KING OF NOTHING
There he goes, the King, his crown a cap turned about,
checking on his minions, the needy, the lonely, the freaks
spitting and ordering more crime in his barking shout
with his odd walk like he’s a pebble between his cheeks.
He’s a hard man and leers with lewd eyes at the tarts
a ciggy stuck in mouth, blowing smoke and grabbing hips
head darting about so he’ll be there if trouble starts
his round table a park bench, his feast a bag of chips.
In a display of physical prowess he vaults the wall
landing on his feet
in another street
an urban athlete.
Who can’t compete
because life’s chosen a different path , that’s all.
He roughs up the old and young, the week and frail
making the flats pull blinds and double lock doors
he’s King of nothing but acts like an alpha male
seeing no danger, asked by suits to do some chores
these men have money and kill with no thought
he’s unaware and is playing out of his league
These men no longer go down and are never caught
but he’s hooked on the flash cars and intrigue
but then he said
what he’d read
so shot in the head
he ended up dead.