I watched the sun come up today;
Naked trees
Beneath a cloud of grey.
But if you can’t ping a forty yard pass you are nothing;
A footballer, that’s what you are.
Call this the baller.
We do not do homage.
We do ourselves,
And roam like wolves.
I will not release my grasp.
As the story unfolds
Pray tell the conclusion;
The illusion
Of a man
That span the times.
No criminal record.
Think he may be the joker.
Here’s the peace I offer
You.
Going nowhere;
Miscommunication
From a loafer
Of style.
