Dear Jane,
The hand that feeds the animals has retreated back into ones’ heavenly abode.
I want to be a scientist, so one day I
can swim in the tides of science and immerse my head deep within the
universal mysteries swirling around each and every one of us each and
every moment of each and every day.
I just don’t get it, I can’t
understand, my mind won’t comprehend, the time that I’ve been given is a
mystery to my soul because at once I must go walkin’ down a long and
lonesome road dirt and gravel beneath my feet stomp my shoes to some old ragged beat that played on a dime store radio in a forgotten town
with ma and pop sittin' on rockin' chairs gamin' chess and
twirlin hairs sippin' on juice and smokin’ lucky strikes lit from
the fire they been stokin’ since six in the mornin’
of yesterday with embedded embers and ashes stray like a fat cat hot
trottin' on a trail of some mice and their family’s tale told to the
dozens of spectators at the rally but no one won the raffle cause it was
a dud and the ballot boxes were filled with the
batter that composes the politician’s infinite banter stemming from
a buncha undulating issues of a life worth not living and a death left
unascending from an unbending truth abandoned to rummage through all the
lies and spend quality time without the spies in the
company of a queen and a prince that spreads his wings and darkness
shrouds the evenings of tomorrow and the land once loved now lost in
veiled grief was taken to her knees and slaughtered for her fine fleece.
Live on sheep; and live on within the body of your foe.
Love,
Dick
Live on sheep; and live on within the body of your foe.
Love,
Dick
