I must elude to the fact that theatre’s not taboo the dirty, filthy basement seen is not that dank, it’s true the smattering of cobwebs allure the wary eye to trashdumped messily about and the buzzing of a fly To regain thoughts on where you are and shift your astonished gaze you excavate your cluttered mind and think of all the ways that cellars are collocated with darkness and with dirt but the stage is still a fantasy a primitive concert
I was having a dinner when a few of my friends, the closest ones here, when noise softly begins I suddenly realized that the noise was from me I was enthusiastic As they all could see I looked up at the trees with the shape of a fan pulchritude clearly exciting sight for a man The orangey sky glowed a deep, murky hue in my behavioral coma I thought just what to do I crossed the small yard and leaned on the gate a square metal lock hanging from a small plate I yanked at the lock but it was fixed up real tight so I bid them farewell and said to all them, “goodnight”
Looking back now he saw an old man starting his life, on the road, in a van He travelled along, music playing out loud Humoring walkers, pleasing a crowd Along his long trip, he fell and he slid Making the best of all that he did When suddenly he knew there’s no time like now to take a bull by the horns, but he didn’t know how So he asked his dear wife to be honest with him And say how he did, and she looked at him grim She smiled and said that he’s getting too old People wanted a young man, brazen and bold They no longer enjoyed this man of old age It was time to recede, get off of the stage He kissed his dear wife and held her to him then they walked hand in hand, a new life to begin.
He was active, unkind and sort of a jerk unhappy in life, for nothing he’d done Acting deftly a prig but really below with a derelict attitude of everyone He’d rip you to pieces and shout out in joy while jotting long notes in his book With a thunderous whoop and low greasy laugh pouring out poison each time his hand shook Bounding out of his house and way down the street Grabbing things that were not of his own Like a big nasty dog with brown gnarly teeth being teased from a huge juicy bone. When his life had become a big sloppy mess He asked his friends what was the root They came all undone and laughed right out loud Giving their friend a quick and a hard boot. He cried out in pain and tried to run fast toward a pier from this maddening crowd But he didn’t know that his past had come back And they weren’t afraid to shout at him loud. They said, “You’re a jerk! You’re not very nice and we’re tired of all your bad crap.” He looked at the group with awe in his eyes Be he was smart to keep shut his big flap.
A small little pig with a cute little butt with a cute little name was in quite a rut He followed his ma to a place ‘cross the sand A beautiful place It was called Graceland. The guinea pig gasped to see such a place a grandiose stage With dark curtains and lace He noticed the stage had seen some sad days The grief he could feel glowing down like sun rays But despite the sad vibe there was joy here as well and the cute little pig thought his mama was swell She brought him there too to learn ’bout music and folks But the pig couldn’t stop hearing frogs chirp and croak So he went with his ma They went down to a bog A safer place here instead Sitting atop an old log.
Tauten your tie put on your vest No being furtive just be your best Creativity abounds a human response like bread needing yeast never kneaded enough The whole of your being like dough in your hand you sculpt yourself perfect to be such a man.
Sitting on a high back stool, shifting all my weight I’m waiting for my custard pie, I spin to face the plate My chair is too low to reach the food, looks iffy anyway I leave my seat and bite my lip, regretting my long day.