Anti

A cigarette butt beneath my heel, final flare, poison.
Hair slick,
sweat of the day
as Kurosawa blades cross
and horses whinny
and paradise gestates within.

I have a name and a gun linked by a cord.
Sycophants everywhere
caked in my stink,
whimper, retch
whimper
while Morricone croons softly behind.

Spur depress my accelerator, final flare, burn sky.
Quiver bitch quake
during the showdown between
men with iron balls
and **** for brains
and **** for it all.

Spit to the can, ptink, with the sly eye.
I have woman on the tip,
Split body, split her
Like the real macho champ,
This ain't no feminist life
I lead the crap dream of the uneducated.

Clint smiles down from his camera, final flare, that's a wrap.
Deadlier than ever with the bull
The squint and hard set jaw.
Hear me roar, for I am gorilla
and you are
a mediocre representation.

You find yourself quoting,
"Do you feel lucky today, punk?
Well do ya?"