Poor Larry Worley

His world turned topsy turvy

Didn’t have a clue to the crime

A wife with knives

And ******

On her mind

Laid poor Larry

On the sod for all time

Gone but not forgottrn

Poor Larry Worley

His wife’s hair all curly

Was stabbed over 21 times



Sorry to see you go Larry. Godspeed my friend

Echoes from the past

Bounced off of dim

Tobacco stained walls

Make their way

Into my room

Pastel green and blue

Mute the sound

Of Poker chips and laughter

Chairs scraping the floor

Clinking and choking

Din and loudness

In the fading distance

Drifting to sleep

Makes me

Just as happy

As the room full of family

It chases the darkening night

And childhood fear

Like whispering smoke

Breathed from the dragons ’round the table

Downing whiskey and stories

Laughing

Not knowing

But singing sweet lullabies

In the dark

Singing down the hallway

Sweet goodnight

He walked through the wood

Tangled and Grown

Shade and clinging vine

Grasping at him

Thislte and trail

In the cool Of early spring

Leading him to

Blueberries

In muted cool

On shaded path

Blue eyed and looking on

The fruit of his desire

In baskest blonde

Of woven reed

Come before his hand

Came the fruit

That drove him there

“til springing beast

In Muscled brown

And killing rage

Charged through the forest

And drove all thoughts

Of civil life

Off

With just one Grey squirrel

Mrs. Gardener in her gloves

Silk and blue

Planting in love

For her children

Too poor to eat

Carrots and peas

Planted in peat

Cotton for clothes

And potatoes for stew

Poor Mrs. Gardener

Plants in rows

For the future

In her blue gloves

Her heart lay beneath
his ear
It's beat
Strong and near
The only peace upon the earth
The only place of  hold and rest
Warm skin
Warm blankets
Heart marching
Marching
Marching on
Tomorrow
He will go on

To the streets

In mob and crowd

To the streets

In angry throng

Let chants and pounding din

Lead the crowds

To pull them down

Tyrants and thieves

Those that lead us

Steal elections then deceive us

Fires lit in the people

In the streets

Let them see us

Let them hear us

Let them fear us

March

March

To the streets

Soon the country will cry as I do
And their tears will fall like rain
But they won't dance in dry dust
To feed the thirsty green
They will fall on bloodied streets
And on freshly filled in graves
Rivulets to rivers
Growing in the rage
'Til torrents flood and bridges fall
And all is washed away