Hat tip to the Ancestors
in my role,
as one of the Griots…
of a proud and noble people,
bequeathed with knees
that will never bend
to no man…
in this realm
or any other,
even though
grief threatens to
smother…
I will recover…
aspiring to know
the math
of living;
strength of Samson;
wisdom of Solomon;
just a portion
for my fellow humans –
on Earth
because they
don’t read
no more…
they entertain foolishness
they honor the jesters,
who type in all CAPS..
talking gibberish
crafting policy…
enshrined in fallacy –
instead of earnestness
and searching
for your face.
Goodness gracious..
these Youngbloods
ain’t ready
they ain’t
steady like,
Freddie…
more akin
to a big dummy…
catch the metaphor
but,
this ain’t funny.
A reading by way of the Pa and Son Adventures...
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