(based on suggestions from @_camer0n, @sushipyjamas, @timsterne)
This is one giant that I can’t style.
Just because he came to my studio
and sat down in the padded seat
with his strength all akimbo doesn’t
mean I can fix that helmet head.
He’s got Samson in his locks
I’ve got Delilah in my veins.
David wasn’t scissor-happy and
never needed to slip Saul a scarf
to cover his flippant skull.
Pretty, pretty curls the giant had.
I’ve overtaken his image across
double hairlines alone and not once
checked my wingnut mirrors.
There is no victory greater than
a bad perm. If we’d frizzed up
that man-eater, even the smallest boy
would have chopped a shot at him.
Guard your coif like you're five foot high.
These shears are on a hair trigger.
Watch out, watch out, tall man.
Today's poem is based on suggestions from three peeps:
- @_camer0n: “Caravaggio’s David with the Head of Goliath”
- @sushipyjamas: “driving when there’s no one else on the road”
- @timsterne: “Stackhat hair! http://www.mobypicture.com/user/timsterne/view/9441176" (You were one classy kid, Tim)
Eight poems to go...