Barstool Philospher

He sways on his bar stool
props up the bar
Tells me you ain't nothing special son
You won't get far
His life's soaked in whiskey
He's doing his time
Tells me You ain't a real poet son
Real poets don't rhyme
He's an expert on women
But sleeps alone in his bed
An ex hit-man
with two bullets in his head
He's walked around the world
Four times just for fun
Run an marathon in a minute
Showed Forrest gump how to run
He's been a teacher, a marine
An ex MP
Blinded by hatred
A ship lost at sea
His victims every night
Try to flee his slurring fear
He's a conman chained to purgatory
Year after year

He's a lonely shadow
a echo, a tear
he's a bar stool philosopher
like a dodgy car
with broken gears.
he feels we should
respect him
that we should
take heed in his words
so we nod in acknowledgment
we cant believe what we have just heard
He walks through kingdoms of grief
a tear in his eye
his day is over
lost to a shrug
and a silent sigh
I guess we should respect him
learn from his mistakes
and stop that runaway car
by applying the brakes.
unlike Lazarus
you have not risen
i cant stand your bloody poetry
so just like the others
I jam my fingers in my ears
and refuse to listen.

By The Punk Poet Detectives