I met a man from Kalamazoo who looked a lot like horse leg glue. He had three nickels balanced on his nose he wore holey, dirty ole' clothes. He grumbled about the government how they always spent and never invent. Then he turned and pointed at me said "Boy! You better get outta these streets. Hard times are a'comin', blood will spill the crooks and robbers will get their fill. They'll play folks like a tuned up fiddle, all the while laughing, launching their spiddle." He was a'whoopin' and a'hollerin' and a'jumpin' around I was hoping to escape into the gatherin' crowd. But his eyes were locked, dead-on to mine it's like he had a hold uh my mind. "Don't run from your fate! Can't you see you're exactly what this here nation needs. A good young buck, who loves his home who don't sell friends for lumps of gold. Who wants everybody to just be free cause they're a lot like you and a lot like me." The crowd started gettin' stirred up mad "How dare you say these dirty things! Everything here is fine and dandy look at the young lads gorging on candy, teenaged girls callin' old men daddy. We say, We say, —and We'll say it again. This body politic is nice and natty." The throng started teeming with strife a husband began beatin' his wife, a mother choked her new-born dead kids began bitin' like they never been fed. The Old man started to cry…. I got picked up by each one of my limbs and folks kept pullin', members twist and bend. Bones rippin’ outta their sockets That raggdy bastard hometown prophet Lookin’ on like heart broken kin “This is what’s birthed by self-denyin' sin You ain’t yourself, live the serpent instead. Hard times are a’comin my foolish son Hard times are a’comin you can try an’ run.”
Discussion about this post
No posts