identifying with the enemy

~

by Davy Crockett Reincarnated
 
(September 2004)
 
Sand in the wind
blood on the ground
mechanical buzzards
   circling around ~
 
I stick my thumb out
for a ride
a ragged old feller
   homeless bound ~
 
Her face appears
in the sky up above
she says with a groan
   “don’t talk about love” ~
 
The vision comes
the vision goes
a shot & splattered
   holy white dove ~
 
I’m covered with dirt
my throat is dry
I gotta leave again
   or I’m gonna die ~
 
Multiple excuses
spin in my head
yet there is
   no reason why ~
 
The sun up above
smokin’ his nose
is always there
   wherever I goes ~
 
The tip of the nose
of the flaming sun
drops an ash
   & forever glows ~
 
Tom Dooley the crow
squawkin’ at my side
squawks “hello”
   but there’s still no ride ~
 
Bullets start to fly
babies start to cry
poor folks run around
   lookin’ for a place to hide ~
 
Stumblin’
fallin’
moanin’
   crawlin’ ~
 
Buildings crashing down
on top ‘o their heads
a tank in the street
   sputterin’ & stallin’ ~
 
I become a layered cake
of grease & grime
just standing here
   without one dime ~
 
Thumb wavin’ above
the tossed & turned
wishin’ hopin’ someone
   will stop just one time ~
 
But they have no pity
they all drive by
a wet sticky tear
   squeezes outta my eye ~
 
Tom Dooley, we gotta
get out of this place
but it looks like we’re gonna
   just stand here & die ~
 
The world’s so hot
folks broken & lame
one by one
   turn into flame ~
 
Her face appears again
from deep down
outta her throat
   churns up my name ~
 
The tears won’t stop
they’re all over my face
my thumb’s stuck out
   but it seems out of place ~
 
Someone pulls over
ahhhhhhh
this picks up
   the pace ~
 
The man at the wheel
is wrapped real tight
around & around
   with dynamite ~
 
I hop in
the coupe takes off
he turns to me &
 says, “gotta light?”
 
It’s an Islamic moment
suspended in time
it’s suddenly quiet
   there’s no more rhyme ~
 
The bell in the tower
inside of my soul
swings to n’ fro
   a mysterious chime ~
 
The crow, Dooley, my friend
has flown far away
the moment ticks like a clock
   with nothin’ to say ~
 
The desert landscape
floats by like a dream
with nothin’ to do
   but lollygag all day ~
 
I dig in my pocket
pull out my bic
get the flame going
   with one little flick ~
 
The vision in the sky
of her memorable beauty
is now some how
   a silly dumb chick ~
 
As the suicide bomber
holds up the fuse
its a proposition
   I cannot refuse ~
 
Almighty God winkith
as we settle back
for one last
   bumpy cruise ~
 
Heaven opens up her
transparent arms
bumps us with love &
   other immaculate charms ~
 
A crispy flash
explodes all around
kills quite a few & sends us
  to distant angelic farms ~
 
Ohhhhhhh the sun up above
he knows
as he smokes his
   eternal cigar nose ~
 
Strums his banjo
combs his flames
& the crow so free do fly
   wherever the river flows…
 
~
.
text copyright clyde collins 2004 2017
.
~
.

The Davy Crockett Reincarnated Almanac

~

art above:

Burning Furnace of Charity

art below:

Tabernacle of The Most High

~

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