Thursday, June 11, 2021

Summa runna cumma, it’s twenty-won.

Gotta short fuse, watch what I get done.

Gimme all my money—I ain’t short on funds.

But my writing block’s over—that shit was fun.

Speaking and I’ll repeat, I am his son.

Twenty-won the sun shines for my runs.

Modern day hustlin, my money ain’t fussin.

With incomplete words, I should buy full verbs.

But nope. I publish dope.

Creatively struggled against these ropes.

Writing a beast who overcame being broke.

Money issues choking at my got-damned throat.

Went forth anyhow—my body’s a boat.

Floating through life to give up?

Competition should hope…

I don’t mope. I just go.

Unlike me long ago,

Writing for broke.

Grab a coat.

It’s cold,

Bro.

-Budd

Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes because no one can 'read' him. And it's a great way to hide public thoughts...

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 )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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 )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: