He’s almost anonymous, a Jon Doe
If he had a tone, it’d be ominous.
Keeps it low key,
like a wolf stalking his prey for protein.
And he knows this:
If he wants to catch the snakes
he’s got to burn down the forest.
Sniff out the origin and snuff out the provenance.
The only weapon he has
is the spade that he holds in his hands,
and he’s playin it close to his chest.
Every plot he’s dug
is a feet closer to the root of the ruckus.
Stepping up introduce some light into darkness.
It’s not a bottomless pit.
He knows he’s getting close to the bottom of it.
Never giving up, so he throws his back into it.
He’s a killer with a message for his foes, see.
Dug em their graves and their epitaphs scribbled on post its,
and his choice of words are most appropriate.
A reminder to the devil that if he fucks around there’ll be no grace,
that he’ll fight him tooth and nail, till the truth prevails,
enough of his lies and his stupid tales.
He’s grown himself a set of balls the size of Jupiter.
He is the definition of dick in dictionaries,
and he’s sticking it to the Man like a missionary.
Time to bury these cadavers,
the ones who once said he could never.
Yea he’s the villain in this story
but somehow still the opposite of the baddest.
Looking to get drunk on the Spirit,
but not the kind that fills bottles and bladders.
Yea he’s searching for a high but keepin his head low.
For now he just keeps watch,
a sentry upon this headstone.
25 Jan 2023 Jon Lau
ILLiteratepoet 