In God’s name, what for?
…a man’s struggle with loneliness,
…a man’s battle with direction,
Is it yearn for company?
Is it yearn for comfort?
Who with his own life tells a tale?
…a tale of harsh labor,
…a tale of being out of place?
Who with his corpus vas, tells a tale?
…of walking on divergent streets,
…of yanking weight filled melons,
a tale of lugging the weights of unease?
So, friends and foes alike
…might you be kind and let me know?
Who can clothe his life with words that shed light
…on one man’s mourn for a father,
…a yearn for guidance,
…a whim for the fable tinsmith.
And under these sunny stars assure me
…in all misery’s sake, what the hell for?
There was nobody for me in those spreading streets
…no singing slave, no sad feet, no laughing cheeks,
…no protests, no men were killed, no crazy friends
…got us kicked out of a nightclub, no keepers of the night’s peace, no drug quenched rock and roll, no lust ladies on the conners, nobody.
So in that life of mine of vagabondage,
… I took the direction to end it
As to accept the fallacy of hope
…is to reject the defeat of truth,
I hung my empty corpus vas
…in the center of those diverging streets.
Inspired by part three, first paragraph of On the road, by Jack Kerouac