On the back of a few well-read poems he
felt free to give other writers advice, saw
nothing dishonest in it, and what if he was
full of sh*t – at least it was honest sh*t,
not recycled ancient tripe relabelled original
thought supposedly by a new-age sensitive
guy masquerading in legendary, deadbeat
street-poet's rap
No-one round here knew him like that - he’d
kill anyone who did, blow 'em away without a
second thought, you can’t have that sort of
accusation hanging over your rep,
too huge an investment to risk compromising
its Kevlar protection from wipes & wide boys,
sneakers with lies, sycophants, connivers &
omniscient glory thieves.
Next thing I’ll need to get is comprehensive
insurance for identity theft he complained
bitterly - this f***ing fame is already killing
me.
© 2007-02-20, I.D. Carswell
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