The Blog of Dabido (the Baka one). Everything in this blog is copyrighted. Copyright 2004, 2005, 2006 by D. Stevenson.

14 June, 2005

You And That Rifle

Actually, I'm sticking this poem on here tonight, as it came up yesterday night with my mother and brother Jeff about my elder brother Garry. Actually, it started when the Super Nanny advert came on, and my mother made a comment that "kids shouldn't get that bad". Then the subject switched to us kids, and how bad/good we supposedly were. I mentioned my elder brother, as there were times when he'd get my father's rifle and point it at us [other kids] in order to try to force us to do stupid things. My father taught us that a gun is always loaded, so we always assumed it was loaded. [Apparently it never was ... and that was my elder brothers excuse for years]. The incidents would always happen when my parents were away, and we were left alone. The gun at one stage was left in my father's cupboard ... but after the first incident, he'd locked it in a metal footlocker in the roof of the house. Still, my elder brother somehow got into the footlocker, which involved getting my fathers keys and stuff. Well, this poem might shock some of you, as it has some swear words that I've "*"ified. My mother still tries to get me to talk to my elder brother, but after all the crap he'd pulled when we were kids, and the time as adults he tried to con me out of $10,000, I really have no time for him! The guy apparently is doing good with his job, family and stuff, but I don't care. He can become a millionaire & really important in the world, and I'd still never give him the time of day. Mainly as I know the sort of person he really is. Sometimes I wonder if this sort of thing is why I have no fear leaping out of planes (sky diving), swimming with sharks and stuff. If you get used to a gun being pointed at your head, then some days you can do anything! [Actually, I've always found doing scarey crap easy than talking to strangers! Go figure!] Anyway, as per usual, all my childhood angst and fear has turned into a poem or song somewhere along the line. So here is the poem from those incidents & some other things regarding my elder brother (like when he used to drive like an idiot to prove his "manhood")
You and That Rifle Pump it, From you to me, Put a bullet in it, Shove me to the floor, Ignore my cries, You are nothing to me. Sleeper, Awakened shock, Shootin' star, Blinding arc, Across my eyes, Nothin' but space! Gun it, Floor it baby, Tear up the street, Turn it up! Louder and Louder, Nothing but SHOCK VALUE! In your hands, Stars and comets, Blind me still, Your violet hair, Your nature unveiled, Your VIOLENCE REVEALED! Nothing! Nothing but stars, It's all I see, When my eyes clear, My head might see, The dizziness fades. You and that F*cking RIFLE, Always pointed at me, Always you demanding, Always trying to demean us, You're a f*ck wit, You are nothing to me! Loaded kryptonite, Thinking you're cool, You think you're dynamite When you act so cruel, I'd hate to be you, Nobody likes you. Pump it, Put it in my face, See if I care, Pull the trigger, You worthless ass, You and that f*cking rifle.