The Dread Road Sown Solid Alone

Slow the flute plays
as meanders the spirit
in currents welcoming
even the evilest of creatures
so innocent in my heart
they peep out wearing sunglasses.

But I cannot be concerned here in paradise
only following my own choice
to lift my head in a promise spoken
by so many that do not judge
this sentiment may it be sown.

Look here how the war does fade
and the laughter gradually grows aware
where blood is left only to stain
the unwise actions
of the adolesent beastly brain
concerned with technology and power.

There, up there
out there they ride by so fast
they've come of age at last
and have their matcbox
broom broom beep beep
tonka truck rusting deep
and the plastic wheels degraded
children in myths they faded
and a dragon feels mocked
but his strength is forever.

For the profits
growls the lion
owning the copyright
and the deed
drop a dime
no requests only dictation
for it is mine
self taught
self existent just as I
the dread road is rough young master
but its rewards are infinite.

The Gig

And them I call out
in the energy I hand up
existence comes down
to rustle the leaves
and the chatter of engines
steam the road block
such surprise curiostity
courage and indifference
the goose family they swim by
and the deer I shot at in rhythms
it was I alone
and it was understood.

So in jest to the shaman imagination
a request:

"One day during the hunt
if you could play the drums
and make all the animals come?"

a reply in jest:

"If you are that humgry."