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. King of Soul