His name is
Brent
Weiand's
His mother
Is the Judy
Who showed up
Every where we went
And then she dumped
Her kids on us
Brentwood
Was where we were
When my father
Was a university instructor
They use to call them
Professors...
Anyways
My mother always
Imagined she would
Look like the girl
In the add if she
Got my father
To do something
Such as put in
A skylight
Or sauna
Just like the girl
In the picture
The problem
Is she used to be
The young child
In those adds
Once upon a time
Now the problem
Is that Brent
Has decided he is
My fathers real son
And has gone around
Tearing down houses
And putting up
Skylights in old buildings
Basically destroying
My world of historic things
Left over from four
Separate families
Coming to California
And then allowing
The children to marry
Merging everything into me!
Anyways if I could
Close my eyes
And go back
To that year
Just after my father
Had passed away
With help from Brent
Who always shows up
And does things he should not
And think about throwing
Myself to the wolves
I would tell the media
That it was not the
Yogart guy
But the Dominoes delivery
One named Brent
Did you know Brent
They now have these
Driver less robots
Who go through
Traffic lights
Without killing
Little old ladies
And stop at the
Right house
Delivering their specialty
Without hanging around
For an extra tip?
And they don't get lost
Either
Arriving in Los Angeles
Instead of Sacramento!
If the DA thought
About looking up
Deliveries to that
Address they would find
A number of phone calls
From me to the police
You see George S
I once lived in that same
Location and was repeatedly
Home invaded
Just a bunch of kids
Doing no harm
Until they bring out
They knifes!
I have been stabbed
In the back
By Tara and Janet
In the chest
By Cathy and Lisa
My face?
It is called
Skin grafts!
Do I have to tell
You how many times
I have been attacked
Something Peter J
Knew as he as a cousin
Often stayed in the same
Places as myself.
Anyways Brent
And Dan
Are both criminals
Not real Mafia
Not even attempting
To be the real thing
They are just bad boys
On their own
After all their mothers
Once played with guns
When they were little
While their mother
Held a gun to my mothers
Head they would
Run around
And distract everyone
Else from knowing
It was just some stupid
Broad with her panties
Twisted up .....
Did I mention
The KKK?
Yes that is right
This group
Have granddaddy's
In that Knights clan
They are rough
Little bitches
That run around
Running their own scams
And stealing and raping
As well as leaving
Christians with no way out
If one tattles on these people
They will have you
Excommunicated
Just on their say so.
They don't take no
From any woman
Not even their own mamma
Which is why they have
No idea why the backs
Of their heads
Are being melted
From a distance...
Control the woman
And one gets the whole world
Brent is more of a yogurt
Shop guy with his smiles
And so nice expressions
With a knife in his white socks
And your wallet in his pants pocket
Don't mess with me
He is dangerous
Living in Sacramento
He was always running lights
In Los Angeles
Where I sometimes worked
When in fact I was supposed
To be iin San Diego.
My grandfather died
Sitting at my kitchen table
Waiting and wondering
Why I was there and
Not somewhere else
He was still waiting
When I walked in from
Doing another cooking show
For AARP
My culinary certificates
Got me jobs
Cooking for old people
And the military
All those precooked packages
Came out of my kitchen
While I was showing
55 plus how to cook.
Brent probably has
A speeding ticket
Somewhere
Although now I know
Juan Barron has those
In Riverside
While his family lives
In Chula Vista
Where do you thinks
These kids do at night?
Delivering pizzas
Not really
Just as Peter B
Had an afternoon
Paper route
Not really
He spent those hot afternoons
Sitting in a house
With air-conditioning
And eating out of my
Grandfathers' lauder
Leaving him broke
Peters bright red hair
Along with Taras dark red
Could be seen
Outside the flames
As I screamed
And hit my father
With a blanket
From my trunk
I finally just wrapped
Him up in it
And put him in the trunk
While i speed to the nearest
Emergency room
With the cops following me
They helped carry him inside
Once I opened my trunk
For them to see my burned father
It was not Los Angeles
But Ensenada
Those kids do get around
And if Tara was there
Brent was there
Now Juan has learned
From him as well
Having those experiences
Again of locking
My self in at night
But knowing I have not
Been there all night.
Pizza delivery
Is for those with guts
No fooling around
Carry a big knife
If not a gun
Show up uninvited
Where ever you are
Don't always notice
The difference
Between one blond
And another at night
Living in the same place
Brent, Brent
What have you done?
I have a number
Of relatives ready
To finger you
When they arise
In the resurrection
As for others
Wonder what they are thinking....
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