The Bard

[Wayne L. Christensen]

The bard, Barracuda Bob,
Once a hero of mine, could
Categorically claim
To spout perfectly putrid perturbing
Poetry all the time.

It wasn’t his way out wacky words
Which made him this hero of mine.
It was the courage to commit
His callous crimes,
That made him shine.

Standing slightly slumped with
Loose, lewd, overlapping lips
Laboring he blew raspberry kisses
At anyone who happened to walk by.

Then with a shit eating smile
Sometimes known as a grin
He would ask them if he
Was their next of kin.

Then breaking into a cackle,
Not quite a laugh, he would begin
Again to pester pedestrians, as a
Pastime, with his raucous, raving, rant
Time after time…after time.


Revised: February 23, 2008