I wrote this poem (and this one) the day before Spirit came and filled me with peace. Not my fault, people. It just happened. Don’t blame the victim. Spirit did it. Spirit healed me. I just stood there like an idiot. Anyway, the poem:
I ain’t no good man.
Ain’t even a great man.
I pointed my finger when it was me done the wrong,
Demolished the neighborhood and blamed it on the neighbors,
Barked in your face and called it a love song.
You presented some flowers, I rattled the saber.
Ain’t no good man.
Just a man.
What I got is some instincts and bloody knuckles to back it,
Good love in my heart, good intentions and all,
But fact is I’m rabid however you stack it.
Good grip on your leg in my jaw when full moon calls
Ain’t no animal
No buck, no lone wolf.
It’s worse: I’m a man, got opposable thumbs,
Top-heavy with brains and a conscience poking me with a stick.
You can forgive the shark, he ain’t got no wisdom.
Me, I got no excuse, just a hand full of brick.
This jerk’s heart hurts.
Angel devil man.
That’s life how it is, man. Soft in one moment,
All full of tender and made of bright clouds,
Then boom, it’s riots and things you never meant
But did anyway, up front and out loud.