Calling the Beat Angels to sing
the soul of the poetic champion,
the conquering hero, a lonely
heart in the shadow of love a
purgatorial state a lost lineman
as Witchita falls over a tell tale
heart that knocks on heaven’s gate
where Abba verbs with laughter
at our plans you understand
kicked to the curb at Sinatra
time in the wee small hours of
anxxxiety over dashed dreams
trampled by jealous lovers or
haters of true genius headed for
a fall between the cracks of
Dante’s Inferno…meanwhile
The spirit of America remains
one of a maverick hanging on
a pendulum of karmic retribution
as the echo of the Cowboy Angel
says something like let not your
heart be troubled, be not afraid,
today’s the first day of eternity
since fortune favors the brave,
fortuna favit fortibus say the
misfits,or was it the Muppets,
no, maybe it was the roses for
the unforgiven born to suffer
must’ve done some evil deed
while fleeing beneath the trees
whispering in the breeze saying
be free now eternally since now is
all that is so begin the beguine and
call the tune a December Elegy
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