Last of the Legends
He just sat there at a table
with a beer bottle in his hand
smoking his cigar and reading his stuff
caring nothing about the people
listening to his stuff, his shit as he called it
He just read it aloud, like he wanted to
And so became a legend
A cult-legend.
A shitfaced drunken writer
That ran the gauntlet
and took the pain
from a hard and callous
jealous world
He was a drunken shithead
A misogynist, a real fucker
but he wrote beautiful prose
telling stories that had Strength to them
using words that people understood
talking the street-talk
being a poser, and being himself
I would love to be what he was
but I can't, so I just write
about the last of the legends
Salud, Buke.
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