wits and word

he came with a sad accusation
with a frown and a tear in his eye
he told me “You’re going to swing, boy”
he told “You’re going to die”

I’m not a man for a game, sir
I count myself more than a pawn
and if any lay one hand upon me
he’ll wish he’d never been born

so I spat in his eye and I smiled
then had it away on my toes
I’ll not hang around for the hangman
I’ve seen how badly that goes

oh my name it really don’t matter
and I’ve all there is to see
I’ve travelled the world and beyond it
and I swear that you’ll never hold me

there are stories of where I came from
and others of just who I am
and everyone is a lie,sir
but in truth I don’t give a damn

I carry a sword and a pistol
but to me they are just tools
a smart man fights with his brains
and leaves other weapons for fools

and all that I’ve got that matters
to me are my wits and my word
everything else is just luggage
and lugging it ’round is absurd

With some poems I write I have difficulty knowing when to stop, this one on the other hand doesn’t feel finished, so I may come back to it later, or if anyone else has any ideas, please feel free to add them into the comments.

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9 Comments

  1. damommza

     /  February 1, 2012

    so please get out of my way, sir
    I’ve toppled better than you
    but men equal to my mettle
    are quite far apart and few

    they’ll talk of me in hushed whispers
    some will claim to see how it went
    but nothing really matters
    my future is already spent

    My wits are sharper than razors
    my word stronger than stone
    I’ve so many men inside me
    I truly am never alone

    Reply

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