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The Gospel According to Skeeter (Book II)

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Paying the Toll

Skeet and me in the last pew
listenin' to some trash
somethin' bout our savior
and givin' up our cash

We just have two nickles
Skeet says give em one
I tell Skeeter ten percent
is the way I heard it's done

Skeeter says you can't make change
when they pass the plate
so he leaves a nickle
to get us through the gate

I tell Skeet it might be fine
if we was millionaires
Skeeter says be generous
Jesus hangs and stares



it is not safe here
in the park
I think you ought to know

if you've a problem
with the dark
perhaps you'd better go

when there's no moon
it's pretty black
you really must be still

there's a monster
with a sack
and he would do you ill

if he should sense
that you are here
he'll have you in a trice

he'll teach you
what he knows of fear
and it's not very nice


Soul Searching

Skeet and me search high and wide
looking for a spark
misplaced somewhere years ago
in some awful dark

It's not behind the Walmart
we'd have found it there
not in back of Supercuts
mixed in with swept up hair

Facing all these back doors
that will not let us in
you might think the two of us
invented mortal sin

If Heaven has a back door
you'll find us hiding there
we'll bum rush St. Peter
when he sweeps out angel hair


Smokin' Crack and Junk

I read "the art of conversation
is like kinda dead and stuff"
since we have not spoken
I'd like to call your bluff

Yellin' at myself
is not, in itself, enough
if one of us don't answer soon
I'll have another puff


Skeeter's War

Skeeter in his underwear
a big ole ugly scar
I ask Skeet where it came from
Skeeter answers "WAR"

Skeeter says a hot one
came rippin' through the floor
of the gunship where he stood
spittin' out the door

It cut through him like butter
butter housing bone
before that hot steel cooled off
ole Skeet was headed home

They patched him up a little
and sent him on his way
where the last forty years went
Skeeter just can't say

And though he's not In Country
and now he's free to roam
anyone who knows him
knows Skeet aint comin' home


Hope[you are warm]

On the pavement
trying not to look up

Into unspoken pity
disgust and fear
of my tribe
that splashes around me
like disrespect
only beyond caring
like spit
with a touch of Hope

Hope, by God, wears shoes
Hope fights the urge
to slip silently by
Hope is not strictly required
to kick my a**

Hope stands so close
that I smell its cloying breath

Even when told to go
Hope remains
Hope clings to me
it is the stench
I will take to my grave
f*** hope

Hope throws a half eaten sandwich at me
now and then
Hope police dogs don't
tear my scrotum

Hope you are warm and dry
as you read this
f*** hope

Updated 07-03-2010 at 12:13 PM by hack



  1. PrinceMyshkin's Avatar
    Do I infer correctly that Skeet won't be around any more & that you're handing these on your own?

    --and by the way, doing an entertaining job of it. Thank...
  2. qimissung's Avatar
    I've met a few homeless people in my time. These are pretty good.