In the house of lesser than
I'm not the true wheel complacent
Instead it seems, my placement deems
I'm the crooked spoke adjacent
Singing major melodies in the minor key
Trying to erase the stalks of trees that wouldn't be
So swindle value brands in top drawers
Capture beta backwards displacement
Keep your socked feet on the wood floor
And your hopes and dreams in basements
Capitulate the cornerstone of neo-crooked Calvinism
Or demonstrate by reprobate your broken backhand Methodism
Old Tuskegee sees the faces
Backpedal my loving grasp of people and of places
Send off, 12 knots, freaky fond farewells
Secret corners Dante hid
True final flames of Hell
Aristotle knows what's right
Descartes, he knows what's left
Virility stands in the doorway
Breathing & bereft
So grab at bits of stratosphere, and walk with disposition
Wednesday's charm will only last
While Thursday's in the kitchen
(Copyright & all rights reserved by Bob Fiedler 2010)
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