Monday, 22 June 2009

Four cornered ring.

I was in the gym doing some weights
I began to think I was one of the greats
So I strutted into the old boxing hall
And said “My name’s Sean and I'll fight you all!”
Well the gave me a beating
And they took my pride
Tanned my hide
I cried inside,
And outside
Though I still stood tall
And took it all
Wouldn’t give them the satisfaction
Of seeing me fall
Until I fell
But only ‘co I got hit in the face
A punch so hard
That it lifted my feet
From their preferred resting place
I was mopped like a mope
So I roped-a-dope
Didn’t give me hope but if gave me time
So I spat out my gum shield
And dropped this rhyme
“I’ve been beaten black and blue
And you’ll hit me harder than I ever could do
But I feel gain from all this pain
Next week I’ll be back again
With a brand new name and a
Better mind frame I’d- -“
At that point I blacked out
From a hit under my ribs
My legs gave way
He never said he’d hit me
Though boxers I like that
They never say
It's now been seven years to the day
Since I got hit and my legs gave way
I've grown my hair then cut it short
Pretended to enjoy joint eighteenth birthdays
And sport
I've beaten bodies
And taken blows
Been seen from the front row
As I perform writers sorrow
After my fight I'll borrow a speech
Run to my theatre that's no longer within reach
A.B.A. finalist to baby killer
Acoustic believer to comic book reader
Vision of cool is less Beckham
More Neil Young
Member of a million factions
Not truly present in one
Mixing voices with mindsets
Intoxicating cocktails
For the fairer sex
I’ve sat-up
Did it again
Then gloved-up
And weaved
For three three minute rounds
Never dropped in speed
Jabbed and moved
Double jabbed stepped back
Right hand Pow!
No time to admire the blow
Sidestepped to the left
And right hook to your body
Now your breath wheezes away
As the hit goes under the rib-cage
And your legs give way
I never told you it was coming
Though boxers are like that
We never say
I have since stopped the art
Of hitting without getting hit
But I’ll never stop fighting
I have discipline
That cannot be collected
Through pampering
Or painting, singing or acting
Feel the jab
Inside there’s a sting
Kiss the ring
Though I am not
And never will be
A king
I will always be a warrior
Of that four cornered ring