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For someone I met today that’s bored with contemporary hip-hop.
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First one in a while written drunk. It might not make sense. If so, I beg your forgiveness – leave it to a short, streaming character study in verse. It has been a stressful week and I’m not on point.
… Also, I must add that the next one to steal boots from a cat will have a fatalistic writer to deal with.
Jasper
Nestled in the unforgiving mystery
and Jasper takes the third bottle
suckling like a maggot on the dead
like a sickle on the wheat
and the Christian Brothers brand makes it a psalm to sing
like a gargled joke
by the confidently illiterate
like a literary pulley bone in the mouths of mutts
The shit brandy makes him spit
if he could spit
so instead he hollers at the invisible woman
the one he knows
threatening a proper thrashing
even the belt comes off
and he ages
and then he weeps
and he wages a whole new war
and he curses a god he cannot spell
the one he envisioned envious
Jasper advances to his knees
and he fears his own mellifluous meekness
and nestled in the unforgiving mystery
he continues grousing
he continues screaming
he continues aging
continues keeping score
counting his bottles
(one, two, three – uncorked)
robbing each day of its charity
its force-fed penitence
waiting for his turn at sepultural ridicule
that,
or some goddamn gratitude
for always minding the alarm clock
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Tags: Nothing special
