Ode to Ferde Grofé

When a name
Echos more than sound
Fame
Must rise from the ground

Not loose sand
Man you gotta dig
Suites planned
Transcendent gig

It's not lawful
To obey the past
Becoming awful
Awfully fast

Yet picking pizzazz
Jumped
Mixing all that jazz
Futures coolly lumped

Time and life
Just not real
A spark
Lasts longer

She bluntly said
Can you teach in a 
Nunnery
Dangerous gunnery

Surprised 
No longer disguised
Their ideas
Like spears

Pierced 
Me in a way weird
That no armory
Could salvage me

I orated
Over reception granted
Thinking what tha
No longer afraid

It is said
That Nova Scotia
Harbors a broken land
Near sand
Of oceanica
Adorned in plaid

Terrain, lands
Not flat
Borough halls
A king’s county calls
Knowing that
Their share is also Brooklyn’s


 

There is an eternal condition
They are a musician
Each and all
Over life’s space
Quite fluent
With all not just
Themselves
From gritty elves
Even those now dust
Instinctive to life spent
Less any verbal trace
Music to them a call
From the ultimate magician
All subject to masterful perdition

Life is spectral  facing  eternal dithering

Washing
Reusing
A disposable
Becomes feasible

Once you know
Where you’ll go
Self centered fear
Will quietly disappear

The id
Starts to skid
The ego
Pronounces no go

Ergo
A superego
Makes you a proper
Fancy flopper

The coal
Is delivered
The foal
Shivered

Its fuel bin
Instinctively
Took in
Three

Lumps
Of growth
The mare primps
Her youth

And repetition
Echoes 
Wins the competition
Eternity just flows

Wanda just 
Astounds
All must
Do turnarounds

In her 
Tobacco haze
Rather
Try this craze

Forget the slit wrists
Don't breathe
Discover trysts
That aleve

Failed demise
Then live
Under the guise
Of all do give

How ironical
A cemented vessel 
But nothing special

Watch a grand wreck
Become a speck
It’s jersey oh heck

Gull shit
Not lights
Really all lit

Eyes roam
Three beaches
No sea foam

It sank
Can't ashore wash
Neptune’s prank