Man In the Media, A poem of the Times | Go walk those boots

Because I think this is really good, I want to share it with folks. Especially my folks. Please, thake note. Man In the Media (Pt. 1) “You’re not here to think, nor are you here to speak the truth”. He’d said to me. “Just go walk those boots, so.” Because I think this is really good, and because I want so much to share good things with folks. Especially with my folks, as should. And because I know that some of you don’t read very much. Well, so it was said in my hearing aid and such. That’s why I had to read it for them, and you. In somewhat of a familiar voice, vernacular terms and tongue too. Which is actually, the reading voice of a people. The very few who liked anything to do with reading in the vehicle. They’re my people though, and yours, and you are? Wait, don’t shoot just yet. Not before you hear this.

… I’m talking about the man in the media, he’s getting you to change your ways. Waste you and your fore-parents’ goodness. Things that served you from ancient days. To show you are mine though, go walk the line, in-toe. He puts out his messages before your gaze. Anchoring it there in the palm of your hands. Settling it in there to thrive, to rest comfy there upon your beautiful thighs. He tells you beautiful lies and like no one else can. Lies such as these, and just like he knows you wanted to hear. Oh please! Look at them there, those big eyes, so very clear. And you? You swallow them off his charm. As he tells you yet the more beautiful nonsense, as is the norm. Like, what he wants you to do, to become, and to be. Guess what you become like me? Come on over now and see. Come now, take another look and tell me, can you still see? Then look at this, and that. He’s got his carefully set out plans, you’ve got none. One of you is just lazily dragging the walking feet along. Like a numb. And singing the beloved old swan song. Come. Make a wild guess and tell me which one. But whichever of the two, the lot should come falling upon. Answer me the other nonsensical question. How long will those sort of draggy feet be able to stand? Oh ye perception less woe management plans? Just asking a rhetorical question. You know. To show that you are mine, though. Go, go walk those lines, in-toe. Somebody is wrong, but it ain’t you, nor me. No, not at all — booboo Bumblebee. But as for him, he, the other man-Paul  -who? Mingh, yes he, him. As for him, he ain’t nothing at all, either. Or is it because of them killing you dead with laughing to please her? Those things shining and glistening? The cool and deadly” something” things. “Debt,” I think that’s what they’re called sometimes. Like, when called in. That thing that is there reeling you in. Or some of the times or something. Still calling, and some are tripping over themselves to go answering that said debt call — thing. What’s your name again   Paul Mingh? Even though everybody is bawling. Bawling for love, and all other manicured fingers wrapped up in gloves. Anyway now my turtle dove. Look at this, look at my love. Look at what they have done done to you, and yes, to me too. Got us, you, me, them, and him. All of us, and Mingh, not the children yet to cuss. Just us you would bet, we’re who comes first, fuss. Got us to believe that the prize to win is a girly thing. Smooth nonsense talks and wedding the rings. Nothing else is worth our efforts working with him. Until you, not us this time, just you. Until you’re forced to face up with the divorce litigation. And forced further upon other things, in the worst directions. Courting the court system. Hauling off all those things from the hinder-side of the curtain. Departing and aborting from everything you have ever known and often, and which you once owned and have called in. You were to have called them your belongings and blessings. But the madam is there upon the podium spheres and rocking those speaker systems there, again. Trying to get you to think that there’s nothing wrong. No, not at all, and surely, nothing for you to plan. Nor to plan for. Just like she had done done to her. Yes, to her very own beautiful daughter, the best. The other after-the-darkness half to which you sometimes run to and fast, but alas! This one is in Content town now. Done with worrying the frown — wow! Gone are the lines from down there below her crown. And the causes are? The horse will soon be coming in through the gated door of sorts — sir. With the bright Knight of the night coming on down to go do her a riding vice or, to run off with her. Come that time when, you know, and then do it to her again, and then again. Until then, just go on down to Churchill Falls to fall in and dump it. You know, the worrying scald, nearer my god to the armpit. Yeah, that’s it. Go hang it all there anchored unto an altar call chair. And go on a-calling still. And wait, yes, wait there upon him to come riding. Bringing all the weary wonderful things in. So, is it any wonder that the mister man der. Yeah, look at him right there. I’m talking about me, him, and all of them, those steers, yes, them. Those of us who do nothing other than any and every other sin ting. Any and everything that wears an apron string. Will even do his dear old sweet mama in if they let him. Just so that he, we, us, and them, just so that we can win. We’re always whining at wanting to win the woe men fling? No. One should never do that to them. So, let’s now go back to the old-time saying. “The wonder woman prize to window dressing?” And then to the other one? Yes. Until he’s tired of this, and that one. Or both of them, even. Both of them there on the lot — tory scam — Mingh. Then he heads on out and over to Lilliput. To go put another spin on the Lilly puss. Yeah, like this little one, the kitten right here. Nearer my god to the barber chair, and covered up under shaving skin there. In wastebaskets near the dustbin where, all those barbershop droppings. Cast out hairy clippings. Worthless good for nothing are to be found hanging out and hiding, and listening to the quartet’s latest hyping. But man. What a man! Look at him. Now he hops from limb to limb. Trying to win other fine things to fill up his cravings. So, he would have gone home and taken the Rev up. But then came her crosses and now the Rev is, like, standing up for those rights of his, again. Standing firm for another term upon the offered ring stands, too. Is that other person who is liked by, guess who? Like only she can be, not you, nor me. He would have gone and taken her up upon offering the collection cup, again. And hitched an anchor unto an altar call. And is waiting there in vain for him to come bringing something good to haul. But in vain she waits for love, from him even. And for them to come bringing something else in, in the evening. Like something pure and good and loving. Go on now go, get her the things she wants so much so, like. Like things she likes and wants a lot. Like daily bread and food for the pot. Other steamy things too for the home on the lot, yeah, perhaps that. Like, that brood of chicks which she lacks from the chicken coup. I mean, a whole lot of them from the hatch, that’s who. And coming to her at the hand of the man, preferably from a good godly man like — mick. And quite unlike how it used to be with Dickson — dick. Go give her Matt Hammatick just the way she likes it. A good one though, more or less like — Joe. Or that selfsame Manley bro to fit firmly upon the toe. But don’t go sweating too much over it no, no Siree. She has never that worrisome road toe the sticks to see. Yeah! I was to hear it when she said so to me… “There are a few things I’m perfectly sure of.” Said that said broad hip-shotted gal from over at Glengoff. “I will fix him up fast and with skills I never did get on grasp.” Nor did it come to me falling off the learning tree crops.” Oh, wait a minute, that’s it! I now see what you are talking about, but. To show you are mine, though, go walk the line again, in toe. Go on. Just go walk those boots. No? I hope you were made better by even one thing which was said here, in truth. Thank you. ⁓⸪⁓ I'm here writing love letters to my black brothers, and yes, sisters too. Be sure to bookmark this page and come again. Bring a friend too, to share hits after hits with them, and yes, the misses too. Thank you for subscribing on the YouTube channel, and for hitting the bell. You will be notified whenever we post new content. Thank you.