Meltdown

I have an assignment to do for English class in school and I have to make a lot of poems for it. I actually enjoy the assignment, so I'm going to share one of these poems with you guys. It's a poem on Buckethead, who is now one of my favorite musicians. To get some of the things I wrote, you may have to search on him a bit. Enjoy.

He plays his guitar with no real emotion

Whenever he plays he causes commotion.

He may have no face, no gaze in his eye

He loves every chicken, unless it is fried.

He boasts a bucket with a FUNERAL sticker

He also may be the fastest guitar picker.

He was playing his guitar, free of fright

Bob got angry and said, “HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU NOT TO PLAY TONIGHT!?!?”.

He said he was sorry, he wouldn’t do it again

Bob accepted his apology, they were friends once again.

Some say his mother may have been a hen,

Some say he was born at the summit of Inbred Mountain.

His coolest guitar, a Gibson Les Paul,

Is pretty sweet, with it’s kill switch n’ all.

Some say his style is high in funny,

I say his albums cost too much darn money!

But the thing that keeps this from filling me with dread

Is the fact that I love the music from the man known as Buckethead.

Hm. Nice and simple.

WORDS ARE ART, DAMMIT.

No they're not.

Not bad. It seems kind of like those little, improvised things you do for english class though. Tried too hard.

READ A BOOK, READ A BOOK, READ A MOTHAFUCKIN' BOOK.