ugandabeinsanfrancisco

Of the meanings, I never asked, but she told a story, about a man, a man who, went looking for what, I know not. First to Ohio, the man went, there to ask for what, I know not, ‘Boat men’ he called out, not an answer, for on the Ohio river, “Boat men dance, boat men sing, boat men, most do anything….” the man left, he couldn’t stand it. Second to Scotland, there he met, the bagpipers, leading a ritual, the song playing, must have been, so popular, for everyone, joined in, “You'll take the high road,   and I'll take the low road And I'll be in Scotland afore ye….” the man left, he couldn’t stand it. Third to Africa, there he met, a people, trying to get, the children, to sleep, who could, blame the children, lala Kahle lullaby, is other than, a lullaby, “In the jungle, the mighty jungle The lion sleeps tonight In the jungle, the quiet jungle The lion sleeps tonight

I am a slave, but why, I am sure, you know, you profess, a humanity, in 'we the people' by 'we' is the aspect of, diverse and not divided, right off, the altar, fired with grace, you commit, me to more, disgrace, your gods, must be, so pampering, and quick, to absolve, only you,  I am a slave, because, you want it, that way, you have, the say, you are, merry, but, when you, treat me so, you are, debasing, yourself lol! this I know, rise up, to the, level of, dignity, just so, you know, opportunity, is all we need, then, we shall, have all, the best, among us, 'we the people.'

Of one limb raised to smack, the other to block, when the blow lands, with fury and recklessness, angered because the debased, is not complaining, stretching the limits, of the hitman's intellectual, and moral capacity, in the process,  bone and joint are struck, the beatings, one, two, three....,  keep coming, the souls are debating, one is a diamond, that without, exposure to, the black velvet, loses all shine, one loses its moral decorum, the other is torn, but not indignant, and not blaming, the striker for, this controversy, hopeless and defiled, a preacher standing by, absolves the cruelty, a politician prescribes protection, not of the torn, but that of the tormentor, a containment language, is coined, to get so much profit, out of the defiled, and reward success, in the business of, mistreatment.

A voice screams out so loudly, tatters and bedraggled, in one hand, is a laundry list, of demands, including not having,  a morsel of bread, an opulently robed, note-taker, extends an arm, the index finger, with ruby and gold rings, to silence, the tatters and bedraggled voice, then comments: "try cakes when you run out of bread."

our common conveyance, whose captain, must follow, a path, that does, not stray, were the jolly, and, the hidden, the merry, and, the  sufferers, above decked, below decked, how different, were these decks, for here, it is with song one enters, down there, it is with savage lamentation, above the deck, was jolly and pleasure, ingesting savory, bloated sage, below deck, was hidden treasure, bathed in waste, cisterns of sewage, such things, can be, to the jolly, the captain, offered wine, tongues tasted tannic, vegetal, and velvety, with a creamy, and bouquet body, the chewy kind, only served, after the closed, rivaling finesse,  and flair, of the jolly, toasting, the pleasant finish, on this deck, joy, is made manifest, by wine, the deck of joy, beyond whose, boundary, no jo