The Beat
(c)2011 Bob Atkinson
swayed up to the microphone
all full of confidence
telling tales with his own style
useless to resist
entering his world of devolution
killing the time machine
telling those within earshot
of his wondrous detailed dreams
he shot full the future
describing to those who'd listen
all those horrific visions
living within his edition
beating on his bongos
drawing one into bliss
not caring about real things
only his vivid descriptions
goatee pointing at
those within his crowd
who knew his words and mission
as he spoke of them out loud
all the patrons of the shop
and those down the street
could feel the strange vibrations
he tapped out with his feet
hookas pulled at working
to withdraw the pill of hope
giving wilder imaginations
some enhanced smoke filled dope
imparting to those he wanted
real and false made thrills
carrying softly their inner minds
way up onto the hill
of superstition on top of lies
and wonderful future visions
while seated on the stage
not moving or even twitching
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