When a lad good friends I had together we would roam.. see things.. what made bells ring.. learn.. maybe bring back home.. places faces disgraced races or so they are called.. announced politic cultures were born dark light or tall..
Mr. Doctor though you possess many high degrees.. for just a second I beg you.. indulge humble me..
I know life shows each a view their own until deceased.. a man always prepared to die.. is living at peace..
There are uses social.. expense varied in cast.. those who seek in science.. folk from past years built a mast..
Tired horses excuse forces built for war in fear.. tax those working.. tax retired.. threaten what is dear..
Written words reflect dream land of money’s yoke.. on the can of disrespect some see it as a joke..
When things are seen without ambitious toll.. when you hear the singer sing.. sense from your very soul..
When true each day.. no fear to say things felt in heart.. your mind.. no money games to play.. greedy or unkind..
Mr. Doctor can you tell me please.. with a smile.. is ‘cannot be exploited’.. in some way the term ‘senile’..
(Looking at the patterns I have seen since I was born.. history of war makes mankind.. ‘Children of the Corn’)
(WITH THANK YOU AND APOLOGY TO S. KING)
Little poem for this day.. Lunkie was a junky in Punkie not Delaware.. when he found pain-killer morphine chemists made and shared.. gone days of stress relieving.. heroin or ‘horse’.. corporate chemists made best science could of course.. until one day they found a pound in CEO son’s car.. they could not find relief from guilt.. not even at the bar.. went to the archive museum where good old things were stored.. keyed the door.. toured the floor stole scag dressed in drag.. promised to buy more.. new or stale stories won’t fail if interest is the game.. like a song wife ‘bucket holes’ song of Pete Seeger fame.. as straw will not fix a bucket for the water well.. lies cannot ever be true.. with so much truth to tell.. Peace Tony