He makes an appearance in every town
Not even on a high but he can still bring himself down
to an even lower level as he picks up the mic
And starts singing although he's nothing like
The person who he's meant to be impersonating
And we all sit there perspirating
With fear.
As the end of his credibility suddenly draws near
His version of "Angels"
Should be down there with the Devils
He then goes for comedy with "Achey Breaky Heart"
But his vocals just tear our minds apart
(And I just have to say
Thats not in a good way!)
It's a crime that is clearly obscene
To let him anywhere near a kareoke machine
We get the usual phrase of "Oh, he's really a good lad"
Which is alcoholic jargon for "Oh, he's really fucking bad"
Which doesn't even begin to cut it
Ask anyone you like, they'll say he's chronic
We pull him to one side and say "you just can't sing"
But theres no stopping the kareoke king
Town to town, city to city
Belting out hits that were originally shitty
And launching them onto an unsuspecting audience
Who with blood red eyes start losing there patience
So he begins dodging bottles
Thrown at him at full throttle
But he always leaves with a grin
Knowing that he is the one true kareoke king
Now, when it comes to kareoke I have a choice
And I don't want to slaughter my beautiful voice
So instead I'll just sit and drink at the bars
Maybe dance a little and be a bit of a farce
But theres no way that you'll get me on stage
And destroy songs that are apparently all the rage
I'd much rather be known as the clown prince of poetry
At least then I'd be able to keep a little bit of dignaty
Because even though making an arse of myself is an every day thing
I'll never want to be known as the embarrasment that is the Kareoke King

well played Cayn
you captured that situation.

I am with you on this one.

I can relate to this, I see the achy breaky heart man and his supportive entourage, with the benefit of alcohol, the blissfull ignorance of hindsight, they will appear fools, yet catharsis will reign in every form, even achy breaky hearts.

HI Pete,
Cheers for the kind words!
The poem was actually inspired by something that happened at an open mic a while back when one performer went downstairs and much to our horror belted out the most blood curdling version of Angels I have ever heard and managed to drown out the other musicians upstairs with his singing.
He was reprimanded about it afterwards, poor lad!

That's horribly, credibly hillarious, Cayne! You've caught the audience's disbelief awash with embarrasment perfectly. I can hear the poor, deluded man howling off-key and unawares. Fab!

Cheers, with him been a singer/songwriter he might sing a song about me in revenge, how cool would that be!? I've never been the target of a hate song before!

Well if I'm going to be slagged off in verse then I hope its by someone more talented than the person in question!

Of course it could be the proverbial song that is so bad it's good! How can someone be a singer-songwriter with no sense of singing and songing? The mind bugles.

I can't say too much on here in case he finds the site and gets his feelings hurt. In truth he is a singer/songwriter just not the best one I've heard

This really made me laugh! I reckon there's a bloke like this in every local :)

There is, therewas once a lad who sang Achy Breaky Heart continuously when drunk so that linein the poem was a friendly tribute to him.
The good thing I like about the poem is I can perform it anywhere and people can relate to it which is something I've always wanted to do!