Another Poem From 162
Here is a poem I wrote when I wished I could write a showtune instead.
His name was Byron Donovan Vante
A native of a Detroit slum
He never met his father
And he lived with his mother and grand mum
He never went to school
But he learned from the street
How to use his charm and his wit
To knock the world down from its feet
Ever since Byron was young
People had always found
That he could be very persuasive
And had good looks that were profound
He had a smile and two brown eyes
That could warm any heart
And a slick, silver tongue
That could rip any caution apart
He had local swindlers and cheaters
Replace the father he never knew
He kept the company of conmen
Until at last he became one too
Persuasion was his tool
Deception was his trade
He was as slick as a defense lawyer
And made as much money as one made
Many people lost their money
Because if Byron’s friendly grin
Many were sent to the poorhouse
Never to rise again
Byron would condemn trusting hundreds
To a life of tragic strife
Before a holy curse
Would forever change his life
The month was September
And the year was 1895
The night was somewhat young
And Detroit was quite alive
A nun named Sister Juno
Went to a hotel in the livelier part of town
She was on an important mission
To track Byron Vante down
Byron had promised her money
He claimed to work for a charity
And for a single, shapely investment
He’d give money to her monastery
She implored Byron to return the money
Upon learning of his cruel ruse
She said, “Think of the orphans!”
But all he did was refuse
“It’s a pity, it’s a shame
But what’s there to say?
That’s life, my dear lady
So please do go away.”
That’s what Byron said
Before he laughed in her face
Sister Juno left the hotel
Plagued with much disgrace
At midnight, Bryon retired to his room
Laid in his bed and fell asleep
But a curse would soon befall him
For all the promises he didn’t keep
Despite how the wicked
Constantly escape and succeed
Heaven above had plans
To punish Byron for his greed
When Byron looked in the mirror
After rising from his bed
He did not see a man
But a demon instead
First came shock, then came horror
At the sight Byron had awoken to see
For two days he sought an explanation
Until he found a gypsy on day three
“You’re a demonic creature.”
Is what the elderly woman said
“A curse based on one of the seven sins
Has been placed upon your head.”
“Placed upon you head
By the forces from above
For your excessive greed
Which you’ve come to know and love.”
“You shall have a second demonic form
And greed you can never satisfy
Both of which won’t fade away
Unless you redeem yourself or die.”
Byron went upon the world
Now to cower at any Holy Scripture or cross
But yet, quite surprisingly
He found opportunity in his loss
For now he had power
To satisfy the desires in a person’s mind
He even sold his human form
So he could live to the end of time
He travels the world, seeking those he can tempt
He grants wishes for a material price
If you refuse to pay, or merely cannot
He’ll be anything but nice
When he’d come for you, he won’t have mercy
Not even if you beg
Instead of money or anything else
He’d just take an arm and leg
Because he creates thugs from the limbs of the dead
To do his dirty work
Byron cheats as he wanders in mankind’s shadow
Conniving as he lurks
He long since left his old stomping ground
To seek a better place
However, he still travels abroad
To find people he could knock from grace
Byron thrives on people’s wants and needs
Even to this very day
If you ask him for something, just remember-
He’ll make sure that you pay
His name was Byron Donovan Vante
A native of a Detroit slum
He never met his father
And he lived with his mother and grand mum
He never went to school
But he learned from the street
How to use his charm and his wit
To knock the world down from its feet
Ever since Byron was young
People had always found
That he could be very persuasive
And had good looks that were profound
He had a smile and two brown eyes
That could warm any heart
And a slick, silver tongue
That could rip any caution apart
He had local swindlers and cheaters
Replace the father he never knew
He kept the company of conmen
Until at last he became one too
Persuasion was his tool
Deception was his trade
He was as slick as a defense lawyer
And made as much money as one made
Many people lost their money
Because if Byron’s friendly grin
Many were sent to the poorhouse
Never to rise again
Byron would condemn trusting hundreds
To a life of tragic strife
Before a holy curse
Would forever change his life
The month was September
And the year was 1895
The night was somewhat young
And Detroit was quite alive
A nun named Sister Juno
Went to a hotel in the livelier part of town
She was on an important mission
To track Byron Vante down
Byron had promised her money
He claimed to work for a charity
And for a single, shapely investment
He’d give money to her monastery
She implored Byron to return the money
Upon learning of his cruel ruse
She said, “Think of the orphans!”
But all he did was refuse
“It’s a pity, it’s a shame
But what’s there to say?
That’s life, my dear lady
So please do go away.”
That’s what Byron said
Before he laughed in her face
Sister Juno left the hotel
Plagued with much disgrace
At midnight, Bryon retired to his room
Laid in his bed and fell asleep
But a curse would soon befall him
For all the promises he didn’t keep
Despite how the wicked
Constantly escape and succeed
Heaven above had plans
To punish Byron for his greed
When Byron looked in the mirror
After rising from his bed
He did not see a man
But a demon instead
First came shock, then came horror
At the sight Byron had awoken to see
For two days he sought an explanation
Until he found a gypsy on day three
“You’re a demonic creature.”
Is what the elderly woman said
“A curse based on one of the seven sins
Has been placed upon your head.”
“Placed upon you head
By the forces from above
For your excessive greed
Which you’ve come to know and love.”
“You shall have a second demonic form
And greed you can never satisfy
Both of which won’t fade away
Unless you redeem yourself or die.”
Byron went upon the world
Now to cower at any Holy Scripture or cross
But yet, quite surprisingly
He found opportunity in his loss
For now he had power
To satisfy the desires in a person’s mind
He even sold his human form
So he could live to the end of time
He travels the world, seeking those he can tempt
He grants wishes for a material price
If you refuse to pay, or merely cannot
He’ll be anything but nice
When he’d come for you, he won’t have mercy
Not even if you beg
Instead of money or anything else
He’d just take an arm and leg
Because he creates thugs from the limbs of the dead
To do his dirty work
Byron cheats as he wanders in mankind’s shadow
Conniving as he lurks
He long since left his old stomping ground
To seek a better place
However, he still travels abroad
To find people he could knock from grace
Byron thrives on people’s wants and needs
Even to this very day
If you ask him for something, just remember-
He’ll make sure that you pay
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