Some people just can't be reached.


Untamed Youth

Wringing me free of the horrors I see
Is a man who wears poor rags for clothing
And though he means well, he has no clue to tell
If I'm really a damn near worth rescuing

He chides and he sings and then happiness brings
A tune, boy, that loon sings a melody
A smile flashes heaven to enemy kings
His laughter is much like a remedy

Oh me, little me, how so different a story
How I laugh at the efforts of martyrs
I grew up in filth of some new carcass gorey
Im sure that the blame is my father's

The Lord, he says, Lord who cannot speak a word
Can only observe me and listen
Very well, stupid old man, you're absurd
I pity you, gramps, when you glisten

Patience and time, says the old man in rhyme
And the karma will reflect your actions
Oh yeah, then says I, with a mischevious eye
Let me take gold not mine! I'll be back soon

He shouts after me, rather unpleasantly
You're a fool, dear boy, fool to be headstrong
When I turn back around, the man's smiling at me
Dear me, old man, you sure think wrong

Later that night, and so just out of spite
I took three whole dubloons from a carriage
Took old gramps side pouch and put it inside
So they guards wont find nothing I wear then

Afternoon well, I went out for a spell
And came back to find the old man in holding
The guard can take him, why, I don't give a hell
I hope the old man's still in there, molding



Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 461 times
Written on 2006-11-12 at 10:45

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