Saturday, August 13, 2016


There’s no need to return my calls.
I know it’s just a game for you -
A profitable game just the same.
And clients are fuel for the flame,
I just happen to be in the frame,
A man in the reverse of fame,
Another damages claim,
Rather complex, so you glibly maintain -
But you’re not the one that they blame.

Somewhere there’s a money pot
Holding nothing of interest to me.
And you all want it so much!
You want it slimy in your sweaty hands.
You want it as work-in-progress.
You want it as an entry on the balance sheet
Of lies you’ve told and dreams you’ve stolen.
You want it to offset your mistake -
But you can afford your life as a fake.

There’s no need to recall my name.
I stepped down long ago, in shame,
Before you started to reign.
You never saw me in my prime -
Working twelve hour long days, six at a time -
Stretched out on the brilliant blue sky for months
From brutal Manhattan to blithe Anaheim -
Able to pitch, able to battle, able to climb,
Full of intensity and straight down the line -
But you can’t believe that I once dared to shine.

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