Poem: Ode to an Unfortunate Man

Fatman Butter

Fatman Butter is the creation of London poet, Steve Byrne.

 

Though Fatman Butter is a crusty sixty something on the outside, he is little more than a teenager on the inside.

 

A self-confessed extrovert, he recognizes the ying to that yang by nurturing the introvert part of his imagination and transforming what he finds there to writing. Though he considers no genre safe from his pen, he has a fondness of horror, science fiction and fantasy of an off key ilk.

 

When not dreaming, or writing, Fatman is never happier than when listening to live music. So if you find yourself in a club or a bar when there’s a soul, funk or jazz performance happening, take a look around; if Fatman’s there don’t be shy of saying hi, as his other great love is meeting people.

 

Ode to an Unfortunate Man by Fatman Butter

 

Sweet Lady Luck looks my way only in the glow of that rare blue moon
She’s not been by in such a long while…She’s expected no time soon
If maybe I gets an urge to step out looking for some good-time fun
all I find’s an ugly girl, whose daddy’s on the prowl, with a loaded gun
It’s no surprise when I throw tumbling bones, pleading twos and fives
Every roll falls short…and once again, the settle shows snake’s eyes

 

That day, when I was born, thunder growled, red rain fell, and blue lightning flashed,
a voodoo priestess screamed some mambo-jumbo, and a thousand mirrors smashed
In the East a hurricane arose, stealing pretty cherry blossoms from the trees,
while old Mister Split-Foot, he did laugh and he did dance, knowing I was his

 

If I ever gets to have a taste of honey
it’s surefire, the bee will come sting me
Wary gypsy women folk smile, expressing sympathy,
They offer sprigs of heather, saying for me it’s free
Four-leaf clover, rabbit’s foot, I’ve tried every remedy
Got myself an iron horseshoe…when an old mare kicked me

 

I don’t know whose hand shook Satan’s hand, landing me this dirty curse
But I swear I will kill the next man who says, Cheer up, it could be worse
Maybe one day my bad luck will change, I’ll find a way to break this spell
Come that day, sorry to say, I’ll be at the fireside, beyond the gates of hell

Community Poem Call Out

📣 SUBMISSION CALL-OUT 📣

 

We’re creating a Community Poem! Would you like to contribute?

 

Simply respond to our prompt ‘one day I will…’

 

You can use up to 4 lines, and interpret the prompt any way you wish.

 

Adult content is fine. The only rule is no hate speech.

 

Entry is free, and all successful submissions will be collated and edited together to create one large Poem to be published in print and ebook. Successful entrants will receive a free copy of the ebook, and the option to buy a copy of the print version at cost price.

 

Entrants of all abilities welcome. Must be 16yrs+Deadline 6pm 1st March 2021.

 

Please DM us your submission at Baker Publishing, as any submissions posted in the comments or elsewhere will not qualify.

 

Please feel free to share, and tag fellow poets! 💛

 

https://www.facebook.com/publishmywork/

 

Sponsored by Baker Publishing, Lincoln, UK.