Rolling Your Own

Poem by: Mike Stevens

Summary

A poem about bowling, aimed at the blue-collar

Content

Submitted: May 01, 2011

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Content

Submitted: May 01, 2011

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Tonight is the night when we’ll meet

You, guy, will self-destruct; this guy can’t be beat

It’s that game that takes quite some skill

Nerves of steel, and an iron will

I’m talking about bowling, of course

You, too, can be a granite-ball force

Sit and drink plenty at the snack bar

Your score goes up, the drunker you are

I’m going to bowl a perfect game tonight,

‘cause I’ve had more than enough to set me alight

Tonight, I’m not just winning, I’m kicking some a**,

because I’ve had about enough of your unfunny sass

You just won’t shut up, your face you keep on flapping

But you’ll soon shut your mouth, when the win I wrapping

up and then people will know just how bad you suck

Tonight you’re going down; you’re out of luck

My ball will show no mercy to those sad-sack pins

I’ll blow them over, and that’s how I’ll win

Get used to the gutters, for your ball will roll

right into them, with the lousy way you bowl

I’ll beat on your skull just like a drum,

for you, my friend, are a fricking scum

They say bowling is a ‘Gentleman’s game’

Well, I say, “Screw that!”  If that’s your motto, just blame

your being a pansy on the way you were raised

Lift up your shirt, ‘cause on your back there is blazed,

“I am a loser, but it’s not my fault,

It was all because of my parent’s verbal assault

They called me a quitter, they said I was dumb

They said I was a loser, and they said I was a bum

So, as you see, I never had a chance

I was just the victim of bad circumstance!”

Those words would be too many, but your get my point

Now, don’t get your nose all bent out of joint

The things I’ve said, all happen to be true

You won’t like it, but I’ll bowl all over you!


© Copyright 2016 Mike Stevens. All rights reserved.

Rolling Your Own Rolling Your Own

Status: Finished

Genre: Humor

Houses:

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Humor

Houses:

Summary

A poem about bowling, aimed at the blue-collar

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