if the heavyweight championship was the battle of the sexes
I remember
a heavyweight fight
Tex Cobb taking on
Larry Holmes for
the championship
the Texan
outclassed from the
beginning
no hope
short of
a miracle
of winning
and holmes
beat him
punched
that nose that
had no
cartilage left
in it
beat that face
and head
pounded
that big
texas body
danced and
punched and
round by
round became
covered
with as much
of tex's blood
as tex
had spilled
down his front
but tex
could not
be stopped
too brave to
quit
too tough
to every
roll over and
end his agony
he plowed on
forever coming
forward
landing few punches
but eating
dozens
at a time
it was
a spectacle
set to chill
the blood of
even a fight
fanatic like i
and finally
holmes
grew weary of
punishing
his opponent
he quit
punching so much
just retreated
threw enough jabs
to keep
tex at bay
and tex
plowed on
winging wild
roundhouse punches
like he was
going to
catch holmes
and leave
the ring champion
finally
holmes began
to look
at the referee
in a pleading way
motioning at
the advancing man
shaking his
head and dancing
backward
finally
dropping his
hands altogether
the spark
of humanity
too strong
in him
at that moment
to hit
the man again and
poor tex
came still
with that
heart big
as a dump truck
never a
back step
mercifully
15 round
ended and stopped
the massacre
tex was disappointed
even then
although he
must have
felt some relief
to know
that his face
was not
going to be
smashed
again in
the next
few seconds
today was thinking
about that fight
and how
painful it
had been to
even watch
and thinking also
that it was
good that
holmes was
a man and
not a woman
else tex cobb
would be lying
in a dusty
texas cemetery
today pushing
up weeds
instead of
playing bad guys
in b-movies
wild horses
silence is
the hammer
that drives me
into the ground
a human stake
buried to
the neck
waiting for the
next herd of
wild horses
homesick blues
been stressed lately
angry and pained
nothing unusual in that
spent a lifetime wracked
with such shit
must stop
it's getting to the point
where anger rules
losing patience
with everyone
snapping like
an old turtle yanked
from the river
ready to bite a cue stick
in two
type a personality
coming to a head
the kind of mentality that
once compelled me
to whip heads with tire irons
run cars off the road
shoot at people
be shot at
too old for
this shit
the strain is showing
most of my years have
packed bags and
hit the sunset trail
dust even gone now
must find some peace
somewhere on this revolving
ball of fecal matter
some place green and silent
still of all movement
all screams and needs and
cries in the night
gone
don't get me wrong
not unhappy not sad
not even pissed off
just me being me
miserable son of a bitch
who wishes he was
more human
who wishes he cared more
knows he doesn't
much of the time
don't care which suit
sits in the white house
al gore is no saving saint
anyone who thinks he was
has shit for brains
just bush with another label
big oil big oil
everything is big oil
big peanuts big cars big refrigerators
big dicks and big pussies
big big big
problems and big hope and
most of the time
big disappointments
fuck it
who cares
life is short
sweet too sometimes
short and sweet and full of big oil
and big largeness
and small minds and
mind is among the smallest
shriveled and shattered but
thank god cock
still works and
gun still cocks and
everything is
shootemup fine
in the dire straits
of dixie
screw it
possum boy leaning on
a persimmon tree
looking for snuff queens
the only baby driver
an infant from hell
spitting fire and
farting music
sing me home jethro
paint the barn
mail-pouch red
and see rock city
we can wave
at tourists
and steal
wallets
it's all too much for
a sunday son caught
between heaven and
wherever
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