To find, to see someone start over,
Is like trying to find a “Fourleaf Clover.”
Mid earths green carpet they do so play,
Sleep walking in “Green Monster” parlay.
This paper machete idol they think much of,
They forget that their heaven is but gilded love.
What taxes, only incomes on the broken stride,
Hollering loud per dollar they struggle with pride.
Curtailed deceiver sighted only dollar supply,
The hungry, the poor, the bedraggled they deny.
Woe becomes where the trade winds don’t blow,
On mirror glass sea in such shine they will know.
God stopped them in whatever current they see,
Graced low tide, some remove barnacles that be.
Others try to paddle yon distance unto desert isle.
stroking bills of laden floating payment given trial.
Caught such doldrums the winds will pick up again,
Billowed sail brings the clean hull to sail fast within.
Triadic winds carried the sonic siren is bedeviled of,
Gods tears that flow creating hurricane eye lost love.
By: Harold (Bo) Clapsaddle, 2/2/2014