Fantasy Poetic Verses
would that I could
pick up reception
of celestial transmissions
with a couple'a old soup can phones
and country miles of string
(would they have harp string ring tones?)
and ask the old man
about days long ago
interrupting his labors
tilling god's fecund green fields
(most likely the back forty)
a bit east of old eden, I'm sure
to hear that tinny voice growling
while smelling good earth
and honest sweat far, so far, distant
he'd first grumble and low mumble
about nonsensical questions
but always comically failing
to hide the smile in his voice
and flattered affection
"...of beatniks, of Elvis
of old rumbleseats
yeah, I remember those days
strange fellows, those beats"
"It's hard to rekalect,
(being a swab in the Navy)
all those strange doings onshore
it seemed authority was tested
conformity seen as a chore"
"so I guess that's your answer,
son, I didn't truck with them much
those bohemian fellows
seemed to me a bit touched"
it was good to hear it
his old usual ways
a bit bluff, more bluster
signing off from our strange freq
(with as much love as he could muster)
I smiled after he faded
and wished quietly in my room
he could read just a few
of my thin veiled kharmic sad curses
about loving a father
(gone, yet still set in his ways)
in my amateurish attempts
at fantasy poetic verses...
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