http://thekingswill.com/home.asp - animated by Jessica Davies
It's me who chooses how much better I should do:
E.g., in the small matter of cleaning my room.
Speaking of which,
So much for self-improvement:
It was my New Year's Resolution
To clean my room,
And now it's December,
And my desk is messy as ever.
Looking from left to right,
Its contents reveal a mind not focused,
A pack of silica gel from new trainers;
Passports old and new,
Two pairs of cufflinks
(One with a box, one without),
Cups and glasses kidnapped from the kitchen
And many pennies of change,
Each one of which came from a wasted pound.
Looking at the desk, the signs aren't hard to decipher;
There isn't an inch of empty space,
Though you're meant to be a writer.
This isn't the room of a man with a masterplan.
This is the room of a man who's doing it all
Just because he can.
First there's the marketing -
And then there's me.
First there's the:
Proud poet prolifically pulling off
Particularly multisyllabic rhymes with polish and authority -
And then there's the older brother who is slightly too sarcastic
Who is thirty - thirty! - and still has issues with his accent.
Change your default answer from No, to Yes.
In future, when having an intense inner dialogue with your stubborn self,
Respond initially in the affirmative and not the negative to the following commands:
(A) Try this, it might work.
(B) Have a quiet night in, accompanied by a nutritious meal.
(C) Tidy your room.
It's all about self-improvement -
Not as a "human being", or anything as pretentious as that
That's the type of personal journey that only ever ends in twat.
Self-improvement is about:
Completing tasks in an order that is most logical
As opposed to most interesting.
(Stop buying jackets.
Don't act like you've got cash to burn.
Fill out your tax return.)
A life lived without rhythm
Is too often the life of someone who's scared to make a decision.
It's not about being righteous,
Or putting on your armour against the world out there; see,
The world is too busy to care.
Just look out of your window at this static traffic.
Look at these cars edging forwards,
So close it's like they've been stitched together.
Their drivers don't have time for grievance against you,
They're on their way to pick up the kids and buy pet food.
Yes, this is what I do to myself.
This is what I actually do.
Stand and make demands of the man in the mirror, only he's not changing,
He's too complacent
Because of his past.
But what happened then is no pattern for what happens now.
You're not disorganised because Daddy died.
And because Mummy wasn't nice,
Doesn't mean your laundry should be scattered to all and sundry.
It's all too easy to dissolve into hopeless neurosis:
To pause and reflect on cause and effect.
What you really need to do is kneel on the floor with a bin bag,