Hey old man,
you in jail,
they gave you paper
to pad your cell
not to poem on.
What were
you thinking?
Writing your
epic
when you
should be
sleeping.
Hey old man
what were you waiting?
Some great
awakening
from a sleeping world.
What were
you trying,
to poem off
on the unsuspecting?
Some modern wake
for the
just traditional?
Hey old man
take your meals
and your exercise hour
No one cares,
your jailhouse epistle.
What you
think
you in for?
A pound
of justice
not manuscript.
7/20/03
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