the inspiration

sir robert the bruce
like a loony recluse
sat in a musty cave
dank like a watery grave
he let out a garrulous groan
for his ass was hard as stone
and hungry and broke
with neither fries nor a coke
his eyes gazed the ceiling
and set his head reeling
his orbs grew wider
for he’d spied a spider
it inched upon the rock
like a pretty girl’s short frock
dizzying tall and higher
like a tale told by a liar
when centimeters from the top
it suddenly braked to a stop
it tottered there and fell
like a drunk in the village well
and landed by his feet
woefully forlorn in defeat
robert looked at the spider
wondered what was inside her
he squashed it to a pulp
chewed, swallowed and gulped
and when it was finally over
fear over him did hover
for was this to be his story
of nary heroics nor glory
for one measly meal
would his legendom be sealed
and thus as he achingly fretted
in excitement his pants he wetted
as he hit upon a master plan
and wrote the script for Spiderman.

ram cobain