Being famous for this

not everyday i can mention Bono in a poem

I’d say Bono feels great when foreign birds don’t know who he is while he rambles round town. Turns to laugh not frown at his entourage full of plastic guards a smorgasbord of yes men, equestrian best friends that dabble in the fine arts and hold a straight face when Paul farts. It’s like I don’t work hard enough to be known, stood idly by, garden gnome. Fishing rod firm grasp, clasp a journey. I dream vast. Shivers at the crossroads of Georgian houses as on lookers look out. Face orifices may orchestrate a heinous onslaught of abuse. Famous figures I crave range from acute to obtuse. Throw at me what you may, I am a drunk and don’t give a dam at what you might say.