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Kickin' the Kicker

by Rula Shin


the pull is a dirty draw
when the push is a tug
at the bleedin' gut

ohhh Lord! but
the hit don't let you know
'till you're face down
lickin' buddy's boots
you a bloody pool, a mess
and you know right well
an ol' used up fool!

that pull she's a dirty draw I say!
pushin' up against your skull
talkin' trash with bleedin' gums

And oh Lord! Even
when you're on your knees
bones and skins is beggin' 'please!'
now even prayin' ain't
what it used to be

'cause the track goes long
and the vein runs deep
'till your insides wore out,
the price too damn steep!
can't be runnin' no more
on them kickin' feet

Oh Lord, guess when
it's all said and done
when there ain't no
flesh left, no life
to draw more death,
even the filthy rats
be lookin' down on you
stale mouth out-stretched
singin' the crimson blues

now you all alone on that
rotten stage 'o death
smilin' as you smoothin' out
your filthy corps-ish dress

it's high time, oh Lord
this wailin' gig is up
the kicker long gone
she ain't hardly done much
'cause when a gal like you
drops in six feet deep
no soul stands 'round
no mouths do speak

see, the truth is Lord
the kicker done gone!
a disappearin' act fact,
all smoke and mirror,
she all ash and butts
all bruise and cuts

'cause you know right well
dear Lord above
that stinkin' kicker,
she ain't never truly
had no shoe that fit,
she ain't never truly
had no stinkin' guts!

04/04/2011

Author's Note: Latest Poetry Contest - "Way Down in the Hole"

Posted on 04/05/2011
Copyright © 2021 Rula Shin

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 04/05/11 at 01:20 PM

Man how I like the living hell out of this. Awesome, awesome, awesome, awesome.

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 04/10/11 at 07:34 PM

This breathes grit and grime. Loved it! Thank you.

Posted by Linda Fuller on 04/15/11 at 12:38 AM

Settin' the bar pretty high...

Posted by Ashok Sharda on 04/19/11 at 04:14 PM

The slides are alluring and the downfall ecstatic but only till one realizes the fall, after the fall and laments - ‘but the hit don't let you know 'till you're face down lickin' buddy's boots you a bloody pool, a mess and you know right well an ol' used up fool! ‘It’s too late. The kicker approaches the scene and finds ‘her’ helpless for she lacks energies. The pain is excruciating. It doesn’t leave the neutral observer, the poet unaffected. It’s not the gig wailing. She is gone, back into the green room with her face bleeding. She has committed an act, now those who care, who are aware, shall suffer. The kicker has been kicked out by the one who needed kicking.’ 'cause when a gal like you drops in six feet deep no soul stands 'round no mouths do speak’. But the poet is alive, ever observing, though helpless herself other than depicting the scene. Your poet has done it so eloquently. Yes, it’s picturesque. Man is plural, a bundle of ‘suggestions’ contradicting each other. Some are born out of quality impressions from sources remote and very few, some finds reinforcement in their repetition. But when we begin identifying with the one as ‘positive’, the one metamorphoses into a ‘kicker’ to confront the ‘others’ we term as ‘Negative’. But where will this ‘kicker’ find its sustaining energies? There are ample associations that had turned into perennial energy sources for those who needs kicking. The ‘Kicker’ is eager to kick but for want of energies. She will eventually disappear - "all smoke and mirror, she all ash and butts all bruise and cuts." And we shall lose a battle. But there’s a ‘third,’ the observer, the poet who will capture the scene.

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