My Friend Stan

Poem for one of my university assignments, inspired in part by my partner’s art. Check out Messy Miscreation Artwork .


I have a friend,
I call him Stan.
He’s a cool little fellow,
But not quite a man.
You see, this old buddy,
He sits on my shoulders
His legs ‘round my body
And he’s with me all of the time.

Sometimes I think,
He’s gone on his way.
When I’m with my friends
I can’t feel him all day,
But I’m always wrong
‘Cause his favourite game
Which he’s never played long
Has always been Hide and go Seek.

Sometimes I wish
He’d leave me alone
But it’s too much to ask
He’s impossible to disown.
And when he feels like it,
At the worst possible times,
He’ll get all excited
And squeeze out all of my breath.

Stan can be difficult
In day to day life,
Sometimes he likes
Holding a knife
Pressed to my chest
Keeping me down
Under house arrest
When others wanted me out.

What can I say?
He’s a pain in the ass,
Excuse my language,
I don’t mean to be crass.
It’s just that, well,
He gets in the way
And I wish he would dwell
Somewhere else for a day.
But I have to accept
That he’s here to stay,
My oldest ‘frenemy’ Stan.

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