DON'T MESS WITH JOHNNY!
Face to face with all that's going down.
Some folks just don't know how close they came to being called out at 3 o'clock in morning to throw it down in a Venice boulevard bar parking lot.
Some should thank the god who pepper my mind with evil dirt.
For it's the only thing saving their thoughts from a raping.
My worthy adversery thinks he gives me that old classic excuse he knows I use to use... To take him 'ice fishing' or 'Try out my new car'
with him in the front seat and I cleverly behind him.
Stab Stab Stab Stab-er-oooo.
But he's wrong.
I won't kill him.
I won't kill the S.O.B
I don't care how bad he want's it.
I'de prefer to create my own hurricane of conciousness-giving-flaming-ash.
No one can stop me.
No one can touch me.
Looking down the barrel of my gun
That sonuvagun's just begging for it.
paying for it.
Taunting him with the grimace I know HE despises
on my face, I fiendeshly Laugh, Kiss him on the forehead and whisper oh so coooly in his ear...'who has time for murder these days? there just isn't enough time.'
Marinating in his urine, it dawns on him I shall never be under his thumb...
For I am twenty feet tall and he's truly nothing at all.
matt fromm's Other Poems
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