Down here in the lower Antipodes
lives a creature known as hoon,
despised by cultured societies,
it’s a dense disinhibited loon.

East, west, you’ll find it tripping out,
and moreso in  the wet weather;
the inclement compels it to skid about
driving me to the end  of my tether

Its odious exhaust and rubber pongs
are a regular occurrence at night
and the sonic boom of its rap-crappy songs
wakes the living and long-dead in fright

I’d love to pounce as it swerved by
and teach it a really good lesson
by assailing it with sounds of billy ray cy
and james blunt, 24/7

Its misfiring brain disregards my death stare
as it doughnuts into the the turn
it gives not a toss – why should it  care?
when it’s got new rubber to burn

Are drugs to blame for this sorry tale
of a bogan so devoid of remorse?
No, it’s just an epigenetic epic fail,
unintelligent design, of course


11 thoughts on “Hoonhead

    • The pests are universal! Thanks for your comments. I have been reading your blog and really enjoy your writing, so I hope you don’t mind me adding you to my poetry blog. Cheers bb.

  1. I love the way you describe them here.
    They are part of the selfish “don’t worry baby…you’re special!” generation.
    They sicken me because they think that they are better than everyone else and care only for their own self satisfaction.

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