Who is it then that dare disturb the chantings of old men and hear the lamentations? who would care to listen to these evening walks through chalk filled mouths and canyoned craters? Brave, but who would that 'true valiant be' to stand before and beside of me and hear the litany that I prepared who has cared to shelve the sleeve of time and in his own time mindful of these needs that speed along the ruptured streets where each beggar meets his alma mater and in yet one more canyoned crater would hear as if his very life depends upon the pen that penned the prose? who knows that just as life is so unjust yet each man and woman must as time allows or pray to fattened sacred cows and anyhows I ask again who is there out there to give their pain that I might lead it bleed it into the dust where the rusted franchise of good old fairy tales and bigger lies stands in abandonment and in an army surplus tent which being pegged out in the Sun where we old men would run if only the old bones would agree with thoughts we think but no longer see come look here with me and lend me eyes that I might see that all is lost. Another chant and one more rant I shan't be needing this day again this day I filled with a rain of unformed carbuncles and Uncle Joe's mintballs with just a hint of wintergreen which soothes the legs which in turn have been a million miles and then come back Don't worry 'I'm alright Jack' Back to back and moving on another singer one more song and just like that the pain is gone it has to be I see that now No sacred cows at all just me in the fall where the leaves leave me alone and I go home to emptiness the pettiness of the old grey cat that scratches I'll get rid of that one day.