7 Count.jpg
7 count by vagabond ©

7 count

In the ultramarine blue trunks
weighing in at 125
with no wins
hope ideals dreams (you)

In the white trunks
weighing in at 250
with no losses
futility reality the void (the devil – aka the world – aka also you)

Slugging it out in a box surrounded by ropes
and bright lights shining down on white canvas
with the favored odds and the good money
on you not making it to the 12th

You’d like to wipe the smirk off the face of the
politicians, the bankers and the gangsters
but it’s hard to tell the difference
between them with this swollen eye

Your love in a front row seat turns her head in shame
as the cut above your eye is opened by that jab
Its a wound greater than the devil
and his futility and his vanity put together

You’ve haven’t scored enough points with the judges
and only a knockout could turn it all around
but where do we find the inspiration
when your love is disappointed

Use the anger as an energy
to bring that southpaw uppercut
up to snap his jaw put his ass to the canvas
stand over him like Ali did Liston

You could still win
and you have the protection of saying
you stuck to your guns
but she sat in the front row wearing your blood

Her favorite lucky dress that she wore for you
stained with your blood
it’s the stain of you sticking to your guns
that won’t wash out

As a reminder of the price you made her pay
while the ref counts 5 6 7
and the devil grins
from where he starts to rise

And through the devils clenched teeth
only you and the ref can hear him
saying your name and pointing to you
as he talks trash about owning you

– vagabond

Note: April being poetry month i wanted to challenge myself to have a poem with an accompanying piece of art for each day of the month… Check back each day to this space for more… And share what you like… both online and off…

Shortlink: http://wp.me/p1eniL-1Gk


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