Dontcha worry none son(ode to jack kerouac)

Dontcha get tired of wandering
Its ok to weep
Dusting off yer feet
Bloodied mess
Heading for the sun in the west
Jumping the trains
On route 88 cause its ta be great
On the other side o theworld
Beating on the great big door
Mmmmmhhmmmm hhhhhmm
Right inside its gonna remain a mystery
Until you get to be free
Of society breaking the bread in half
Sharing yer little place
Just enough space to breathe
N write for me
Telling me bout the dogs mawing on yer legs
Bout the cogs in yer brain
Laying hungover in yer alleyway beds
Trying to make yer point
Dropping yer little drops onta the paper
Cause yer so lonely
Without me
Reading yer tales about me
Offering yer mercy
Handing over yer life
Trying ta save what ya couldn’t
Drinkin ta get to a higher plane
Never got ta ride high in an airplane
So yer spreadin yer wings on tha ground
Wonderin whats right when its all wrong
Hittin tha end o the road
We have seen ya come n go
Now its time ta sleep a while
Dusting of tha miles
Sleep a while
Handin tha reigns to me
Dontcha worry none son
I know how ta chase tha mornin sun
Packin my gun
Shootin holes in tha sky
T’gether we can cry
Droppin our lil drops onta some papers
Coverin our bodies in tha cold
Dontcha worry yer tale will be told
When I accept the destination
Given ta me…

~ by beingjohnsweet on October 3, 2008.