Herds of Words
Genesis story glory beginning sinning winning
losing, choosing cruising abusing fusing musing
winning beginning, sinning, pinning,
squinting hinting consenting relenting
weak and strong right and wrong snowsuit and thong ding dong
wicked witch is dead follow good witch instead
ruby slippers, strippers rippers grippers
try not to look read a book say what’s a book?
look it up; google it floozle it bamboozle it
with whimpers tempers, all ye limpers and ye hempers
choking smokers don’t you know the jokers joke’s on you
see how they run like magas on the run see how they snied
I’m crying. I’m crying.
kings bring, bees sting, dancers fling, teens bling, do your thing
empires, squires, fires, liars, hires, dire straits open gates weights wait
civilizations generations, imaginations fascinations, machinations
emperors whimperers tempers whimpers limpers
squires sires hires tires fires liars friars fryers, buyers wires
earls dukes kooks
Beatles Byrds with words like curds and herds and herds of fans
sellers yellers tellers fellers helter skelters melters makers shakers
rows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air
stairway to heaven, seven eleven, leaven, revvin’
rhymin’ Simon, Brooklyn Bridge 59th and 5th Ave it all
comes back to me now.
engines injuns Indians Corinthians Olympians
Greeks freaks peaks streaks, Watergate leaks leeks weeks
Dealy Plaza, Lazarus, 9/11, I’m hoping there’s a heaven.
months years decades centuries millennia eras eons, even gihon spring
spring fling, bling, wing sing ding dong bring rings and things
jewels, duals, fuels, mules, tools, fools America drools in schools
vassals, hassles, wrestlers, hustlers, Custer
Little Big Horn, rows and rows of corn, garments torn, yet children born
children grow, winds blow, to and fro, where they blow I don’t know
proles with souls, goals and holes shoals and doles donkeys with foals.
Olds, Cadillac Mercedes, BMW, what’s it to ya
wealth health stealth
farms and factories, physicians, phylacteries, philosophies, glossaries
rosaries hosiery girls legs in Catholic schools, fools like me
but only God can make a tree, and that’s for free!
actuaries, mortuaries, cemetaries, berries, ferryies Mary quite contrary
I don’t know but I been told streets in heaven paved with gold
It’s an old tale, old, old, I’m told. And yes, I’m getting old. I guess you
can tell. I mean, old friends sit on their park bench like bookends
newspaper blown through the grass falls on the round toes of the
Old Friends, who sit on their park bench like bookends.
Bookends send a thought to mend a few life-pages together. . .
a few words all huddled up in herds:
I know you think I’m. crazy but I sho’nuff won’t be lazy
I be rappin’ out these words in time, maybe even some do rhyme!
Maybe some don’t. As for me, I won’t, unless I have to
cuz I’m on Social Security. Put that it your pipe an smoke it musky-boy!
I may be a fool, but I ain’t no deepstate toy! Anyway. . .
History; mystery. Y’all come back now ya’heah? as we used to say in the Deep South, but now I’m just a mouth running free. . .
Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty we free at last!
To write, to glean, perchance to dream, Aye! there’s the rub!
For in the spilling of the word, in herds, what dreams may come!
No, I ain’t dumb, just old, in the Ages rolled, but never sold, although
you can buy my books, you know. On Amazon, they come and go
dreaming, like Michelangelo. . .
Rowland, rollin’ something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, like Roland of Old, blowin’ his horn, his troop forlorn
All that to say. . .
Blast from the past. Just sayin’ . . . but still praying while I grow old, or so I’m told.
