2-4-2 contest entry
Pays: 8 points.
47 member cents
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Flash Fiction
Deadline: Tomorrow!

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ABC Poetry Contest
Deadline: Mar 21st

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Deadline: Mar 23rd

80 Word Flash Fiction
Deadline: Mar 25th


Poet: None
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Novel: None
Votes: None

 Category:  General Poetry
  Posted: May 7, 2019      Views: 28

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Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Not yet exceptional. When the exceptional rating is reached this is highlighted
more common meter
"Last Beatnik in Town" by LIJ Red
"As long as you will go to school
you can stay here with us
but smoke that dope and act a fool,
boy, you can catch the bus."

He made me pick them friggin' beans
Dad was a mean old jerk
He made me live within my means
and get my ass to work.

I thought old Nick was cool no end
he called me stumpbroke twit.
I was to leave farms with my friend
but Pappy throwed a fit.

My class was that of sixty-two
my gal was plain and smart.
Nick said that I just would not do,
which kinda broke my heart.

I scored way high on Navy tests
and never went to Nam.
My bride had specs and tiny breasts
and never let me gom.

"I read the Beat thing is long dead.
go find your hero Nick,"
My picky, prissy woman said.
I got the Hell out, quick.

"He burnt that card an' went to jail."
His momma said, and cried.
"Of sorry gals he's left a trail;
all credit's been denied."

"Some old beatniks, all stoned and broke
hang out in the city,
and say real folks are jist a joke,
and give us sneers of pity."

That dive was full of cuddling queers
Nick was all greasy hair
the sound they made, it hurt my ears
I just got out of there.

His song was like a mongrel's yelp.
Nick had a geezer's face.
I'd swear that bass cried out for help.
No mercy in that place.

The reek of weed gave my heels speed,
along with their BO
Nick was so high he never seed
his old pal come and go.

I built a house, that's after work;
my Dad swung by to say,
"Nick stiffed his pusher, poor old jerk;
the guy blowed him away."

Nick got the hos and had the fun
I marched and shined my shoes.
He's dead, and me, I've jist begun,
take care the road you choose...

Author Notes
Yes, my speaker is a redneck veteran with a backwoods attitude, and a rank Appalachian dialect.
Gom: Noun, a mess. Verb, to make a mess.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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