SonofCain

SONOFCAIN

The Man,
the Man,
always the Man...
everywhere.

The blind deaf-mute of discipline,
the boss,
the chief honcho
top-dog badass.

The club in your stomach,
the shotgun at your head,
the glare off of a badge,
rat saliva
in the corners of his mouth,
his little red pig weasel eyes
full of hate,
full of rules and righteousness.

Beware of the Man,
my brothers,
do as he says.

Stay in your box,
and in your neighborhood.
Go on green,
stop on red.
Drive slow,
drive fast.
Put a coin
in your breath-0-meter.

Do not forget your number.
Do not lose your spoon.
Do not talk loudly.
Do not drink too much.
Do not enjoy yourself to an excess.
Do not speak your mind.

Walk on and tow
that line,
and once the parameters are set,
stay inside them.

Respect the Man,
fear his might,
his power,
his shiny boots,
his startched pleated shirt
and his great silver spurs.

Blend,
you bastard,
blend,
or the Man will turn
his considerable wrath on
you,
and from the intestines
of Hell,
from the dankness of dungeons,
from shallow graves,
will come the cries
of those destroyed;
all mingled into a single
wailing.

Men who stood up
to the full blast.
Men whose words are slain
by the wind.
Men without epitaphs;
and you will weep,
and maybe
you will join them.


Glenn Buttkus 1968