Folderol

Move the dust
Move the dirt
Turf allover earth
Good and plenty
Good and contented

Drive bayside surf
smile like pappy
say goodnight
Listenin’ t’ crickets’
Who abide alight
Long way to domicile
Slick escape maybe
Environmental selection
Condescension apprehension
Of virtual annihilation
No room in No-room Town
No room in NosmoKing Town
Plenty of Hey Baby in Boomtown
In heyday groups of 3 thou
Lackluster homely Crowd
Clankingly with no culture

Stomping grounds disappeared
railroad sank
what delivered rich from poor
re-rooted, re-routed
starting to stank
feels jaded
hardened, less luminous
once unashamedly cradled

Boulevards float trucks
on roots of ancient oaks
and chariots swerve
‘tween turrets of viaducts
Rarefracted, distracted doles
Flagged and pooped – sun struck

Language-barrier’d panic polls
baseless numberings and loud sounds,
Perverse logic destroys logic,
Places lost to mummers’ tolls
Cast down in hot summers
Amidst mob of sweat bolls

Monotony marmalade
There’s no room in No-room Town
Just for Faust and troll trade
No more room in Boomtown
Just seduction for Gretchen
In a How-Town folderol

PD | ©Darnell 2007