Poem for a Butthead
I see that last night
Is still stuck on you
Like tar on a flip flop
What happened sport?
Your team lose?
You swung on that guy
The white blindness rising
Like chopped waves in a storm
Sucking everything out to sea
Tumbling along as if gravity
Has taken the hour off.
You were on him punching
Blow your beer breath
Into his
Like a lion taking down a Zebra.
After the first flush
Your reason returned
And you were a one winged moth
Flopping and rubbing his colors away
On rough cement.
Well, sport
How ya gonna fix this?
You have carved the tread
From your humanity.
You are now a marked man
You have Cain’s mark
And people will give you
A wide berth.
Paying for splintered furniture
Spitting toothless jokes
From a crooked mouth
Will not remove
What has been written in the air
Where you make your bed
here lies someone’s fool
A grade A Butthead.
Joshua Kight 2/25/06