dream on
the rasta supped his vodka
while the aged old fella
donning LA baseball cap,
bemoaned the state of things
as we comfortably sat
on the wall outside the city.
(& we spoke about many things)
it’s hard you know
when you don’t have money –
when that cash ain’t around
life ain’t worth living!
it could be worse! i exclaimed.
indeed said the rasta
as he supped his vodka.
as long as we can breathe & blow
then we alright i suppose
bemoaned the aged old fella.
look at the boy up the road –
police smashed him with his dope
& a phone & now he’s looking
at a 10 year stretch,
his wretched money they swiped it!
as long as we can breathe & blow
then we alright i suppose.
bemoaned the aged old fella.
we gallantly bump fists
& i depart as a bird tweets
in the unnamed tree
& as calm as can be
i stroll home without a care
of what tomorrow will bring.
Another Poem by Skendong: Duppy’s Grin: A Haunting Encounter