Sex and Violence I had a reputation a long time ago, I stood up to violence, to myself. Early on I was strong willed, unafraid to hurt another, bust down the door, carried to bad reputation, fast, strong, underscored in a way without me. Trolley tracks on the highway, across the street, barbed wire base, parking lot towers, shore patrol see me, stumbling hair lip, bloody, busted, black-eyed gusher, tears from four and twenty bucks.Strategic tallness, strong laughter, coolness, colors larger than me, beating me down. Jokers off another ship, against the fence, leaning from going down, wailing on my ire, victimless crime, photo, rahhhhh! Captain says, serve and protect. Towering eyes, stop drop and run down the easement, ship's bugler summons me and you and the fenced in trolley getaway. Made it home late, made it to safety, Lucky Thirteen. Bordered by authority, flagship admiral returns to the scene of carnage. She cries. Everyone cries ...up until the end. © 2010 by
(The Weaver's Song)