The Gospel According to Skeeter (Book II)
by
, 07-03-2010 at 01:28 AM (2072 Views)
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
____________________________
Monster
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