Your Honor, the Devil Made Me Do It. Poem by Buddy Bee Anthony

Free born natural women or men
have the sense to tell
all too well
when they've been teased
appeased,
whacked, jacked around, and squeezed.
Smack us too hard
Squeeze us too long
Apply too much pressure
and watch us tie a big one on
all over you.
We might hijack an plane.
Commandeer a city bus
fire off guns in the city limits.
Really make a fuss.
When they try to put the matter to bed
by putting us on ice
with surprise easements, codes, amendments
putting us in jeopardy twice.
rendering us down in their fat cat stew.
It's partly on them why we do what we do.
When
They played whack a mole
with true hearts and souls.
Squeezed the juices out of our rock n roll.
Why should they get off Scot free
With their crooked footballs
and busted tees.
Sometimes, we'll miss
the brass ring,
lips puckered but no sweetheart to kiss.
Instead, in my mouth
I get rancid spit.
With a crap eating grin,
begrudgingly you hand me your
consolation prize,
Placing the football
fourth and long
on my one foot line.
A fishing lure's in my cheek
As the warden's pulls hard on the line.
Light the fuse,
make a fuss
Laugh in the rain
Derail the bus
Take a big pull off your Night Train.
Then tell the hangin' judge,
the devil made me do it
my honor.

Buddy Bee Anthony

06/02/2025

Re-Edited 06/02/2025 @ 3: 01 PM Pacific Time

All copyrights, editing and publishing rights
reserved as is by this author.