Saturday, October 19, 2013

...a bag of chips.


Hyperactive hopes exceed the hype of my hindsight.
Backing up without being backed up, stepping in, stepping out.
Writing with my right, thinking with my left, neither is right.
Feeling it now, feelings of how, how do you feel, now don't doubt.

Scratching out a living, starting from scratch, it's not my first batch.
Wringing my hands, ringing in my ears, fears ring true, lend me a hand.
Catching some Z's, these cause some unease, don't throw 'til I'm ready to catch.
Banding with brothers, bother my land, landing a deal, hey-I'm-with-tha'-band.

Believe it's fresh when I tell you it's fresh, ripe on the vine every other time.
Rip into to goods, zip the lips real good, all in good time, ready the sharp quips.
Pearl onions on skewers are often the lure, always their biting for lemon or lime.
Humble, but not ashamed, never afraid to be all that,... and..............


-b2