John The Bad Fist Poem by John W. McEwers
John The Bad Fist
There's a darkness in me
that boils like a lobster
spitting and steaming
from the inside out
until my shell breaks
and the Bad Fist
meets the nearest wall.
And you don't wanna meet
the Bad Fist when
badness is nesting
in my bad John brain.
If it's Bad, if at all,
that my Bad Fist badness
blasts angry anger
then I wouldn't want
Mr Good Boy
to show up at all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/25/2024 7:15:05 AM # 1.0.0.1119
