Update at 11
I get so down, I get so blue,
Yes, I get so down, I get so blue
Think I might just stop watching the news
The bubble-headed bleach blonde read it with conviction
And the co-anchor dripped empathy with every repetition
While both promised an update would be coming at eleven
Of the sordid tale of how Sally got to heaven
You see, I got up this morning, couldn't believe what I heard
Got up this morning, I couldn't believe what I heard
Some little boy's been judged for who he murdered
His aim was straight and true, ain't seen better shot
Lord, his aim was straight and true, ain't seen a better shot
But how could you miss when you're right on top?
Wasn't his best friend, wasn't his bad old daddy
No, it wasn't his best friend, wasn't his bad old daddy
But his crying little sister: the one-year-old named Sally.
Now I heard he wasn't sorry, didn't feel any remorse
No, he wasn't sorry, didn't feel any remorse
'Cause now - now, his parents aren't getting divorced.
Disclaimer(AKA the long-winded explanation): I started going to read at the UW Poetry Games open mic a few months ago, but it wasn't until the last Games open mic that I received this challenge from Aaron Carter: write a poem in the style of twelve-bar blues and perform it.� As I didn't want to write the woman-done-me-wrong blues, this is the result. :-) Thanks to Kris of Rhi's List for the sanity check.
©3.8.02 Raine Wynd