Poetry month #22: Conspiracy theory

April 2003

The cheque’s in the mail and the condom just broke
The girl’s a liar (with her pants on fire)
He only asked her for a smoke
That job wasn’t worth his time –
A bunch of losers anyway –
You know he’ll soon be in his prime.

It’s all a conspiracy
Everyone’s making sure
He’s not what he could be;
He’s the finest of the bunch
Which is why they have to punch
And push him down
It couldn’t be that maybe
He’s just jerking you around

His spirit’s too deep and his charisma too wide
He’s always got a reason (it’s the season);
He’d like to tell you what he knows
– You can’t say he never tried –
But he has to protect you from their blows

It’s all a conspiracy

You can blame it on his father
Who never thought to come around
You can blame it on his uncle
Who always pulled his zipper down
You can blame it on the boss’s son
Who lied and said the job was done

It’s all a conspiracy
Everyone’s making sure
He’s not what he could be;
He’s the finest of the bunch
Which is why they have to punch
And push him down
It couldn’t be that maybe
He’s just jerking you around

Perhaps it’s the Masons, or the Church
It might be La Famiglia
Or maybe just a curse
It’s such a burden he has to bear
To know that people just won’t care

(Thank god you’re not like that)

(Oh no you’re not like that
You’re definitely not like that;
You believe him don’t you,
Just like that?)

You know he’s not to blame
For everything that’s been ordained

It’s another conspiracy.

Advertisements

About Jenn

Find me on Twitter @JennGruden
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s