Tattoo # 4

march 31

read me my obituary let me do a spell check
born hustler forever circa 1973
son of an absent role model explains why I smoke trees
exists only in your imagination
my sanctuary is poetry I hide behind my own lines
they got an apb out on my liberal thoughts
shackle my hands enslave my brain in a cage
urge me to scream ten times while they censor my sermons

freshly emancipated mind my pen is oozing blood for ink
never trusted, never married, dated words to my grave
survived by a pen, a page & an ignorant public
a million grieving impostors who never loved my works
closest they came to my teachings was when they read my tattoos
career soldier to the letter a three star general
history repeats itself everybody lies
like they ever stood back & proudly watched me fly

for the second time in one generation the son goes out without a seed
like my uncle before me my brother from another moms
we share no blood but ambitions it gets no thicker than that
making idols out of humans only to worship when they gone
swear our ultimate devotion can only be to a god
though we stay our own gods only answer to self
scared to close our eyes & pray lest we get abducted by aliens
afraid to sleep to see tomorrow fear we might die tonight

to my wife I made a vow to the end I stay yours
you get to share me with no chicken that’s my promise to you
even when I pull my last breath I hope to die by your side
a gold tipped pen on my palm putting down my memoirs
minus the lies, perversion, plus my plan to get rich
finally accepting my fate my plot for bliss is mapped out
with this ring I thee wed, ‘til death we part
he’s survived by his wife, millions of words, no grieving relative