Wednesday, February 20, 2008

28. Idle Threat

Brick-toothed loud mouth!
Your grin would look a lot better
laid out on the pavement.
Maybe somebody should help you with that,
but it's not gonna be me today.

My fists would love to get a little punch drunk
and dance all over your face.
But I know better than they do -
small and flimsy, and white as glue;
not at all up to the task at hand
(pun intended).
They've got a little growing left
before they can take on a lugnut like you.

So I'll see you around, loose lips.

'Til then I'll be eating my wheaties
and all those other things they say should make a person
strong enough to hold their own.
You just better think twice
before you go flip-flappin' your trap around here again.
Next time you might not get off so easy.

*Poetry readings always make me feel like writing, which may make me a bit of a poser, since I seem to require other people's creative juices to fuel my own...

Still, it feels nice to ditch some shit that's been stewing around in there for too long.

1 comment:

Françoise de Fleur said...

Yes! Totally dig it. Great shit talkin' poem. Har har. :) I want to be there the day your fists get punch drunk and dance all over someone's face. Now that's a great line.