I was hoping to explode
My home and then all of my road,
With the gardens freshly mowed.

The dynamite came in a box;
I hid it under piles of rocks
In the corner, with my socks.

Then I stared from window out,
Screamed aloud then gave a shout
To all the neighbours round about.

Many looked and turned to me,
Said: “What is it that we see,
Hiding in his little tree?

“He won’t come out, not at all,
He is hid behind a wall,
We’ll shoot him and he’s bound to fall.”

In a state of fright,
I pulled out my dynamite,
And tried to ignite,

But it wouldn’t work,
And so I felt berserk,
Just like Captain Kirk!

All the neighbours at my door,
Yelling, banging, someone swore,
Tried I to ignore.

But the door caved in,
And ten came running in,
With a reckless din.

When inside my home,
One picked up the phone,
Said: “We are not alone:

“He’s gone and called the cops,
And he’s rung the shops,
To order fifty mops.”

I said that was a lie,
And gave a little sigh,
I thought that I would die,

But my neighbours all were gentle,
Saying: “It is incidental,
But we’re all environmental,

“Trying to the planet save,
Don’t want gardens to be grave,
Your dynamite was one close shave:

“We could not have you blow the street,
Destroy wildlife, all complete,
Burn our bodies, head to feet,

“So we switched your dynamite,
With plasticine that won’t ignite.
Sorry, but it serves you right!”

In my guilt and in my shame,
I said “I will accept the blame,
But someone tell me what’s my name.”

No one told me, no one knew,
And so they left me, lone and blue,
And feeling worse, I had to spew

My dinner to the floor.
I had broke the law,
And they had smashed my door.

In my growing pain,
I felt a touch insane
As I looked out the window pane.

Now the street was bare,
And no one else lived there,
But I didn’t care.


© 2001 Matt Everett