Travel my pace to places faces tell me more..
volumes plans feared unseen hands just walking to the store..
From shoeshine stand of Stackhouse watching a big screen..
unconscious folks walked by
some funny things were seen..
There were songs self talking mouths rehearsing some words.. things thought done in private done loud we laughed when heard.. sights amusing us perusing co- writing a page.. of our
scripted social humor..
wisdom funny.. sage..
One day as we sat and sipped fermented grape.. smoking joking maybe toking speaking of escape..
suddenly ground earthquake shook water shot from wells.. Hip Hop sang with rappers..
‘Farmer in the DEll’..
We waited with bated breath shook by impending death Stackhouse an old black man sat and smiled.. said ‘long years here.. must express.. something smelly makes this mess..
he passed out gas masks right in style..
Not to judge any way.. not how seen.. what folks may say this involves another kind of sole..
Old Dan from ‘Panty Lane’ saw some feet and went insane..
matter of fact he lost control..
Watch commercials that may pass eyes see media gas.. fashion product offered by Old Dan..
‘Scented Footwork’ is the name.. fun not robot psycho game.. fun for
every woman every man..
Ad money folks accrue.. what you see is up to you.. suggestion sent to bored folks as they stand..
Smile in purpose feel a lift.. lose that mask.. take a whiff.. make a stinky fortune for ‘Old Dan’..
I heard the next international conflict will be remembered as ‘The Stinkfoot Conspiracy’.. then wiping their brows in satisfaction they grunt out.. ‘gotta make a buck’.. Peace Tony