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Return to your normal schedule and meet me at the square, return to your normal schedule and open the mail before it is too late, this too will pass and the silence will not last, hurricane Beryl has come and gone and remove the despair from the front lawn.

 I was expecting something new but you ran away and leave your shoe on the stage, so I invite the truckers in town to spread out on the lawn and eat barbecue ribs and Buffalo wings. Sometimes I like it mild and sometimes I like it spicy, with tomato ketchup and cheese dips, I chew on bones that are reserve for  dogs.

I slept in darkness for a week listening to my own heart beat and composing a song upon my bed before the old vision is dead.

 You went to the country side grinding every penny from peasants and young brides, the multitude dancing behind you and the gun man baiting you;  If you knew what was waiting on you, you would have put on your boxing gloves and give the suckers a hundred punches.

You weren’t paying attention so you went on and on singing the same unattractive and ruthless songs. You spin and you turn running up and down the street, calling out to everybody that you meet; the tide is turning and the fire is burning look above your head and you will see the living hell.
The patrons are still musing form yesterday’s dark moment and I can still hear the faint sound of the bullets landing on empty spaces and charging in your loyalist faces and when he was done, he knocks him out with four bullets to his head and leave him flat on the ground dead.
 
 America has had worse than that and the people came fighting back and in seconds everything was back to normal; what’s going on? has cat caught your tongue? What on earth have you done ?you wanted to shut down the universe because of some unpleasant words. Freedom of speech for me and freedom of speech for you, the drama makes it spicy.
 
You talk about him as if the graze on the ears and blood stain across his face was real; you talk about him as if color in the stream and the man in your dream were real, the world is on fire and you must saturate the old man’s desire, and leave the ego tied up in his shoes and the fiction  swinging in his hands.
 
I sat in the chair all day figuring out where the eagles lay their eggs, I searched for it in the sand but it was not there, I search everywhere  on the ground but the eagle keeps turning everything around, and somewhere in the bush under a patch of dry leaves the eagle’s eggs were waiting to be hatched and I suddenly start wearing a brand new frock.
 
I look at the wound on his ears and it resembles the prophecy of doom and the scene on the stage was set in the eighties when mankind craves for a different sun but destiny dragged them out of the heavens and they swim like dolphin across the blistered land, 

Take your ego and go and complete the show.
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