Roosters In The Rain

in #poetry7 years ago (edited)

Six,

turned their heads up

and drowned.

(Really?)

Really.

Wow, that’s wild.

He took another chaw

of Beachnut,

spat into

one of my recycled

Gatorade bottles,

the clock on the wall

chirped

a new bird-song

a new hour had struck

time to pick and grin,

time for that

twang

claw-hammer style

downtown

in

what we called

jokingly

the big city.

He drove a truck too,

in the war,

W-W-II,

was a cook

at some point,

(wish I could

talk

to him now)

best friend died beside him,

black guy,

(always made me think

of Bubba Gump,

or

vice-versa)

He taught me love

was love

it didn't matter

about

the skin were in.

But,

the world doesn't get it,

riots

and greed,

forgotten freedom,

outlawed weed.

peace, love, and harmony gone

yet

we're all

standing with our

dumb heads

turned

to the sky

mouths open

like roosters in the rain,

more people

should've

met ‘im,

truly,

got to know ‘im,

learned to

make hay while

the sun shines

and not be just another

damned

yard-bird

too stupid

to shut it’s mouth.