Little Shop Of Horror Presents: Larry Quilts
On the 23rd Day of the Month of November in an early year of a decade not too long before our own, in the seemingly most innocent and unlikely of places...
They say -
If the beer was half full - Larry snatch up the beer fast.
But pride never let him carry cans in a clear bag -
He feared that people would judge him in gone broke fashion...
But that had already happened, off the cardboard mattress.
Car horns blasting to some is the meaning of "cuse may!!!"
For Larry - it’s how he greeted a new day.
Which usually began with cup-jingling full of dimes - in his tube socks...
But Larry didn't always see the sky as his rooftop.
You see...
Larry’s money was good; his position wasn’t much to cover -
He made fabric for a living; stitching’ buttons for his loving mother
Til his brother insisted he should "dump his mudder"
Long story short ya'll... Eviction is a mu’fucka.
He’d sit up on his bunk and wonder how he’d live at this cost..
Yellow pages – ‘”Hello, Hey it’s Larry..." click - get lost.
It hurt him to the point, where'd he just sit in his thoughts.
Cursing the god who simply left the gift of knitting some cloth,
In the midst of his palm. If he only knew the image he owned -
The elegance presented in every stitch he would sew -
He’d quickly be known. But mama never gave her kid a chance...
Even when customers wondered 'where they even ripped they're pants'???
She’d just faintly smile - take the thanks - wouldn’t even give a glance -
To the kid behind the curtain, working - shirt up in his blistered hands.
His landlord finally got tired and put some thuds upon his aging door!!!
With the rust fell the words “It’s been months & I aint waiting more!
Either have my money or you’ll be asleep in your prayers!!”
Fucking bum mumbled followed by the creek of the stairs...
The next weeks he would fair fine with each task he choosed.
But making ties for the catholic school; ended with the wine is his flask of booze.
He wouldn’t cry he’d just pack and move out of the shelters he lived in.
Whether the weather would give in or belt him a whipping
Seated behind the glass of McDonalds is how Larry dealt with the drizzling’
Who needed help or forgiveness.
“MAN HE ISN'T THERE AND HE ABANDONED WITH MY FAMILY SO BRANDY IS MY THERAPY!!!"
While the adults thought of him as; bearin filth
We knew of him as Larry Quilt...
He was the nigga you’d go to for those liquor blues.
Homey wouldn’t take your money - only did it for a sip or two.
He knew who was splittin' bricks up; flippin' nickles; shippin' krills through
Symbol in his fitted; chewed; stitching in his kicks were loose
Legend without a profession he ain't never had a bitch or jewels.
Miserable, he'd wave the cup for the dollar down.
Everyday waking up to the common crowd.
Its funny - people thought of him as some "hairy stray dog!!!"
"Scary and laid off!!!"
But over the years all that changed to '‘good mornings - Larry you stay warm!!!”
He was tall and scruffy - walked the town with a vivid limp.
When he talked - hanging out his mouth was the brown of a cigarette.
His voice was raspy; he was classy as a boy;
Till he hit a void, he enjoyed his past, he’d
Walk by the store, the one where he'd worked hard for his dinner, its
Gates locked, shackled and graffitied right along with his innocence
He could still hear the cloth being tossed in the spinner's rinse
Memories living on in the scars of his fingertips.
He would cough when he hit the steps of the church he stopped through.
In return for the blankets he made them; they would thank him and than serve him hot soup.
His work was worth all the words they would speak on Sunday.
From the “Come back any times'' to the ‘’teach me one days!”
He’d reeked of rum, made cheddar - wasn't working at first...
Didn't need an umbrella; knew the weather from the chirp of the birds.
He was worthless at first glance; hobo would’ve reached your mind.
But you know off top; there’s more to photos than what meets the eye,
Being a bum wasn't a easy life; he didn’t have much Alfredo money,
Potatoes running over hot peas, nah see...more like buttered bagel money.
Just another aged old dummy? Look deep into the stitch engravement.
Those were his niggas shivering with him living on the city pavement.
If he hadn't knitted blankets, those frigid days would still hover with frost.
& Larry would've never knew how to take a cold day and discover it's warmth
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VETWORK
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