And now for something completely different….
This is a poem, entitled The Title Shot, written by yours truly. There is no set meter but I didn’t make it free verse. It’s “kinda” free verse but with rhyming.
The story is a first-person narration (simply known as “Bad Bones”) from a mixed martial artist dishing out some trash talk ahead of an upcoming MMA heavyweight championship fight. His opponent (referenced as “Holmes”) is undefeated and is the current belt holder. Bad Bones however is a ferocious beast and is the favorite to win the fight. I make no references to either person’s full name and I focus on the trash-talk, which is interspersed with painfully obvious jabs at pop culture. Neither of the characters is modeled after a real fighter and this isn’t necessarily in the UFC. It’s up to your own imagination for that kind of stuff.
To quote Bruce Buffer: IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTT’s TIIIIMMMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!
What’s up, Holmes?
Do you think you have the stones
To square up against bad bones?
Because you talk a big game
You’ve got fortune and fame
But when we fight in a fortnight
The consequences will never be the same
You think you’re unbeatable
When in fact you’re defeatable
And when I’m done with you
Your success won’t be repeatable
I’ll give it my all
I’m going for broke
I’ll be all over you
Like Charlie Sheen on coke
I’ll strike, I’ll grapple
I’ll break you like a bottle of snapple
I’ve got heart, I’ve got courage
I’m favored by the bookies
My sheer strength and size
Makes Goliath look like Snooki
You think you’re a godsend
You think you’re a legend
But you’ll be so battered and bruised
You’ll look like Mel Gibson’s ex-girlfriend
I can KO you
I can make you submit
Or just beat you down for 5 rounds
To the point where it hurts to sit
When I step in the cage
I’ll be filled with rage
I’m going on a rampage
On the world’s grandest stage
In a place they call Sin City
Where the fight won’t be pretty
But I’ll come out on top
I’ll pull out all the stops
Your “0” is going to go
In the closing act of the show
And you will remember
On a dark and dreary December
Just how you felt
When your first loss was dealt
And how you watched me celebrate
With what was once your title belt
Why did I do this you ask? Well I don’t know the answer to that one either. I’ll have to get back to you on that through another poem.