Discussion in 'The Artist's Corner' started by Mile High Crux, May 29, 2004.

  1. Like minded individuals, dig it.

    “Prophet of Sod”

    My Grandpa told me ‘fore he died,
    “The greatest sin of Man is Pride.
    Best never see the City Son,
    Don't ever leave the mountainside.
    It's yours since you became a man
    So make your way as best you can
    ‘Cause someday this'll all be gone,
    A sacrifice to Babylon.”

    Now owing he's a proper fan
    Of God and all his Ten Commands
    The parish lent him resting ground
    On proper consecrated land.
    There's some begrudge his little grave
    Which others think befits a slave's
    But it'll grow a better lawn
    Than ever grew in Babylon.

    I'll credit him for dying brave.
    He never bitched and wouldn't cave
    If life was tough but he was strict
    And now it's time to misbehave.
    I'm planting up a sea of green
    The finest crop you've ever seen.
    (The guy who showed me how's a con
    Who shat some time down Babylon.)

    I'm more than used to living clean
    But more or less that's living mean.
    Now sitting high on harvest time
    I'm wond'ring how it coulda' been
    My ladies bloomed a pound apiece.
    With buds enough to spare for grease.
    I copped a ride from Cousin John
    And trucked it down to Babylon.

    We talked about our newest niece
    And kept an eye out for police
    Before a pack of bikers showed
    And took us for some lambs to fleece.
    The city steamed from off a way
    Its skyline's shroud was coffin grey.
    But hell if I'd become a pawn
    To all the sins of Babylon.

    The wicked men held us at bay.
    I warned them there'd be Hell to pay,
    “Repent yourselves and split or else
    You'll never see another day.
    So when they forced us to the ground
    I prayed to him that I was bound,
    “Send lightning Grandpa. Cast it on
    These scavengers from Babylon.”

    They might have given us a round
    ‘Cept right then straight from out the ground
    A rumbling' rose beneath our feet
    And lightning from the sky unwound.
    It made the wicked men explode
    To rain down dead upon the road.
    Towards the sun that brightly shone
    We drove away from Babylon.

    I never sold my mother lode.
    Instead we used the grass to goad
    Our simple minds along a course
    Towards examples Grandpa showed.
    Some strength of will is all it takes
    To learn from all your life's mistakes.
    And now I needn't scrape or fawn
    For broken meats from Babylon.

    There's nights I dream, clear wracked with shakes,
    Of needing truths and stuck with fakes
    Until the balance point is pressed
    Then stilled and calm my soul awakes.
    To visions of the other side
    Where Grampa's eyes burn righteous pride.
    Consider, friends, next risen dawn
    What price you've paid to Babylon.
  2. very good

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