Ruckus, Me Ruckus Poem by nathan martin

my name is the ruckus and i am sure
to bruise and clot all hemoglobin,

turn bright to dark red, metal to rust,
rain and mud in a season rush and gush.

i'll reckon to smash an oblong pigskin through
some lines and create a british rumpus,
a proper ructioning, ruckus.

then maybe i'll spit some blood out the
side of old an black and white photograph.
cause i am the original ruckus..me ruckus..