Rhyme for a Wednesday

Here is the rhyme for Wednesday, spit out the tune for a new morning song, skip some of the beats and get your heart trucking along, pick up the ashes and spell something wrong, throw on sunglasses and wake up to song that’s leaping on lyrics and tapping along, get me some coffee, don a sarong, build a lyrical ladder kids climb up on, words like chutes and ladders thoughts slide upon, jump through a window with clouds to land on, fly over to my house, find roofs to dance on, run into rain on the roof and let your feet get too cold and shout at the city before you get old and reach out for love before it gets sold and buy something pretty so you can be bold and build something better, give back twofold, and hold on for turbulence, the futures untold, and hold out for the virtuous, the truth might corrode, and give over to decadence if your ethics won’t fold, and throw out your hands to find others to hold, let friendship break boundaries that commerce tries to hold, and lose all receipts at 30 seconds old, and find a new endline, a better mold.

Oh snap it’s me written across the sky when I walked into the room and disturbed the peace with a joke about losing my sneakers in Neice, that’s France and it’s pronounced with the accent on “eese”, shoot now I’m calling the grammar police, but their busy begging beggars to get on their feet and walk away without dollars or nothin to eat but I’m not a saint I’m still hoping to cheat and I’ve lost my last dime, but I’ll find more under the seat of my red car, that drive far red car, drive me away from here, that drive far red car that’s faster than fear and slower than growing older and sadder than getting fatter, and further than committing murder, and thicker than chicks that bicker and slower than growing older and better than building bed planes than fly by freight trains and land in better lands or everglades and every infatuated sigh that fades into a breath and leaves you with nothing left but the next exhalation that motivates the words to trip out of my mouth and strangely flopping about -like goldfish flipped out of water and abandoned the spout and chatted about otters that were oddly left out of 17 conversations that were aquatic about and we kept keeping time with a jump rope otherwise known as the equator that suddenly followed the sun and did turns around the earth and made fun of its puns and laughed at it’s girth then played tennis with galaxies for all that they’re worth, and lost the thousandth open by selling the birth-right to the planet that never did anything but hula-hoop and burn, spin on an axis and turn tales about Esau’s and Ables, Jonah and whales, sound and turn-tables, Wednesdays and fables.

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