PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Texas was where he went, a country large enough to hold his head

A good location for a mouth just big enough to hold everything he said

This one-man-band with his egocentric audience of one

Both drunk and drugged when totaled up adds up to exactly none

His importance as you will plainly see

Only when he tells you I am number one; will you please look at me

But when you look you can only shake your head

For the waste of skin and bone that drapes this walking dead

He cusses his mother that gave him life on earth

And who can blame him. Look what he's made it worth

His body grew in frenetic agitated kind

But about fifteen growth halted in his mind

On the phone two-thousand miles away

This gutless being has to have his say

('Cause face to face has never been his way)

He rants and raves just to hear his voice

Then courageously takes another drink to expand his choice

It is my sincere hope that he grows up one day

But I'm afraid he'll be buried in his child-like way

If he threatens to dig out and make our troubles big

We'll just bury the bastard face down - let him dig.