Of my times

The same song sung
As the tale of my times is unspun
Webs slingin drama their bringin
My head turns pon the pillow
Smoke wafts downward spiraling
And I see it...that Tube
Behind the glass scenes unfurl
Electrical crackles as Dan cackles
I'd Rather see Walter and hear
Narrators of impending good times
For the Nation, the President...I don't get a dime
Bytes of sounds invaluable muffle my worthless soul
In this tale of times where one won't grow too old
Cars drive by with the booming systems
And guns for my times, not just fingers pointed at my head
Fingers for guns booming systems wake up the dead
Booming systems and Jamaican food
Breakfast from boxes all bought and sold
The stuff they call corner store gold
Five dollar Capn Crunch...five dollar goat curried for lunch?
Dan cackles again...the President's still doing fine
By the way, I never did get that dime
Booming system sound byting at my hustle
Where is my corner, yes, the one last stand
I got to get mine...I been waiting for my dime
Choices, people to see, dreams to sell
I find it, my block, as I jingle down in bells
Finding my best strut like I got shocks
Tales of my times unspun upon street blocks
Not blinking, I keep my predatory gaze
This whole damn block is mine till I get that dime
Dan cackles somethin again...it's about me!
I'd Rather have Walter tell it though
The President is looking for me what of his do I have
It couldn't be this dime for which I bid my time
I thought Dan cackled somethin bout him doing fine
Could he really want my last dime
Walter, I ask you could this be true?
Son who said this tale was unspun for me or for you!
John J. Thomas