Greg Slode Poet Free verse

Put On Those Sneakers

I could be a clone of self sacrifice
Ai devoured thee
To the bottom of the dead
Laughing at the humor of life
Turning down running out to grab a case you're needing some attention
When you.are in an empty space of time
When you are turning inside out
Spiralling down
And down
Towards some political debate
Has fear grown another leg
When you get to bottom of that can
Itll take you closer
To the bottom of the dead
To the bottom of the dead 
The button they called red

When your youth won't leave you
It beacons to the soul
To keep things simple and congealed 
Looking for gel in the hands of a glove
Coming up to bat
Please don't throw me no curve ball or a sinker to the plate
Keep it simple
Though it all seemed done at 19
It was already too late
For fate to.lead you
To the bottom of the 20s
Saying goodbye to fools who seek pain
Losing that air in your head
Feeling that breeze of the dead
Feeling that life in the sun and the rain 
And the power of finding the fun
That was lost
At the barrel of a gun 
That made life a bowl
So drool so drool
It picks you up
And shakes off the dead
And puts fun back in your head
So we forever leave
The politics who dwell
Att the bottom.
Of the dead

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