With a vinegar jar and a mouth ill-apprised
A man tried to catch a militia of flies
He drank it up quick and spat it out fast
And the words that came with were malicious and crass
He went all around with his vinegar jar
A traveling nuisance, he went near and far
He spat and insulted, he spat and defamed
’Til a quick silver fly hit his jugular vein
And wonder of wonders, he sat up and caught it,
Folks everywhere thought ‘wow, he finally got it’
But through all the sounds of the stunned, screaming crowd
A dissonant buzz rose and swelled nice and loud
The flies had caught wind, they had started to talk
Before the man’s outline was done up in chalk
With a puddle of vinegar spilled at his feet
He looked to the flies like a man obsolete
Now, the other fly-catchers were quite unamused
They just couldn’t accept how the man paid his dues
They scurried to sanctify things he had said
To turn a man martyrized just ‘cause he’s dead
The fly-catchers hurried to shut up dissent
And demanded the snickering flies go repent
“Why,” asked the flies, “should we honor this dead?”
“Counting or not counting all the man said?”
A vinegar life leaves a legacy rotten
And vinegar words make bile well-begotten
So sure, it ain’t pleasant, and no it ain’t funny
But you can’t say the man tried to caught shit with honey.
Behind the Writing
“This author wonders who deserves to be venerated.”
Writer To Writer Literary Journal 