Testify:

In the moon glow of my bone yard,
I lie lazy in my lounger
reread red parts from a Bible
by an Itty Bitty Book Light,
with reflector resting uptight
to my chinny-chin-chin,
the better for to whiten
Nordic skinny-skin-skin.

Midnight is precisely, when
old Jesus drives right by me,
with his misty halo flapping,
on a go-cart riding happy
to the Bowl-A-Dalai-Rama
in red polka-dot pajamas.
Putt-a-putt-a chugs the engine,
“Ode to Joy” acclaims his Walkman,
Jesus smiles and saves and waves,
always rolls ten perfect frames,
like Wolfman Jack, he gravel bays,
“Keep the faith, ba-ba-ba-baybeee!”
or
“Make love not hate, my ma-ma-ma-main man!”

“Right back at you, righteous brother
walk that waxed wood like it’s water!”

Busy bees begin to buzz,
I awaken to their hum,
goose-bump shiver
pull the cover tightly rightly
to my chin-chinny-chin-chin.
Inside his house of red brick,
my neighbor chokes a cup quick,
indigests the latest blues news,
huffs and puffs, unjustly concludes,
“Rush is Right!” upon the bumper
of his military Hummer,
rumbles past,
rolls the glass,
shakes his fist,
sounding pissed,
“Get a job, friggin’ slob!
or
“Mow your yard, freakin’ retard!”

I dismiss his chimp-chimp chatter, cut directly to the matter,
“When’s the last time, boy, you bowled a perfect game?”

I’m waiting here, with ice cool beer
an earth bound waif, just keepin’ faith.

Right on.

03/09/2005

Posted on 03/09/2005
Copyright © 2025 David Hill