Too Soon Bass Man, Too Soon

For Ol' Danny Randomsongs

I’m feeling 
funeral, Literal
gutteral, Visceral
fuming, Clinical,
manic, Liminal. 

I’m peeling,
Steeling, 
Sealing, 
Dealing, 
Rapelling,
Repealing, 
Conforming, 
Congealing. 

Pulling on drawers,
Pushing on doors,
Breaking on windows,
Balking . . . Stalking
Hawking,
Stroking, 
Chalking,
Choking,
Broken. 

The broken man,
innervated, 
the gifted child,
indefatigable,
the syncopator,
orchestrated -
he spoke 
cryptic, 
unscripted,
impolitic,
dialectical, 
electric,
logical,
truthful, brutal,
inaudible, youthful, 
gleeful, lethal,
indie, original,
raspy, aboriginal. 

Father,
fighter,
Lover,
rider,
Contester,
protester, 
Writer, 
maker,
Seeker,
slayer,
Soothsayer,
cadence maker,
Chord layer,
incubator.

Ears to the air,
toes to the ground,
The Groove Man
vibed omnidirectional,
he heard what he saw - 
and
he played it, 
he played, 
he played it
authentic always,
and always raw.