The Hour of Change

Sometimes you can tell
what part of the day it is
because geese
fly overhead
you know it’s past the Midnight hour
because helicopters
fill the sky

There are plenty (too many) wicked people in this world sitting upon wretched thrones in lofty (glossy glassy sin) towers…and I readily admit that such a bitter truth sometimes sours my disposition in the form of anger upon my heart.
There are also plenty of fools (with psyches wounded beyond repair) in this world who walk with heads down while playing the go along to get along game…and I make no qualms about the fact that I have never, nor will I ever (never say never), suffer such sold-out souls lightly.
I do see very clearly (pinpoint precision) the lines that have been drawn (scribbled in blood, sweat and tears) in the sand (beached empire)…and I do keep a very neat and clean (poised and ready) scorecard in life.
All that being said, my main point (core matter) was meant to be (piercing inward) that such heavy (weighty) [toxic] concerns have had me a bit stagnant (numb) [poisoned] and on edge of late; but I did take an early (midnight is in a hurry) evening walk some hours ago (before the sky fell), and damn if there wasn’t a little dance in my step (grave song rhythms).
Feverish mojo is a five ace trump hand against the woes of this world…I surely play it every time it gets dealt in my direction…but I’ve found that the best way to hedge a bet is to double down with both hands in the soil and just plain damn get to work…
Scott Thomas Outlar

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