Graffiti

     There goes the procession

     Your Braveheart in Control

      The Clergyman on the Pulpit

      Making the right noise

      Looks like its Ragtime

      The Minstrel on the edge

      Singing

      Songs sung

      Of Life Leaves and

      Loneliness

      Words fail to rhyme but

      Explode in your mind

      Not a pretty sight

     Seeing the Soul set

     On Fire while the

     Purveyors of the

     Municipality

     Sleeplessness or

     Was it sheer Boredom

     Refuge

     On the streets

     The half naked

     Barefoot Bard

     Scrawling screaming

     Words that would have

      Made sense but

      That was yesterwhile

      Today stares at the

       Deeds undone while

       The Presiding Deity

       Mendicant to the Nation

       Wearing the Cloak of

       Unabashed piety

       Its time to kneel

       The Garbage Prince

       Is ready to do the

       Gig

       Swirling in the

       Slush and      
 
       Somewhere the

       Sewerage Blues

       Echoes Nah!

       Wails weeps woos

       And then the staccato

       The Moon of  all  your

        Moons full

        Its yellow halo

        The Undertaker is dancing with

        The Corporate Watchman

        Oblivious  of the

        Forebodings

        Cant see

        Anticipate the

        Morrow

        Fresh tumult

        A figure disappears in the

        Quite Smoky night

        Shine on bright

         Go listen to your

         Benefactor but

         Beware

         Its ominious

         Shape of things to come

         The Graffiti