“The misty roads and mountains of my soul”
What is it all about you may ask, and
With good reason, whimsical ramblings
Morning time matinee thoughts
The tin can sound of the
What is this, what’s going on here now, you may well
Ask, is it a maze a lost-in
An empty fortune cookie when you
Desperately need a fortune to be told?
My friend I’m here to tell ya, to shout it
From the tarslicked rooftops of my
I’m here to tell ya
About the ideas,
The inescapable, heart pounding visions,
The crazy cool ideas…
I wanna smoke the tea in the
Backyard on the grass, on the
Rooftop, while the old tom cat
Hisses and scats to his own beat.
I wanna open a secret brass-handled door
To open it up and look in there
And see the misty roads and
Mountains of my heart, the misty
Roads and mountains of my soul.
I want you to see this too I want you to
Hear the beat-ing, the beat old
Heart of mine beating away.
Slicksters, tricksters, playing it cool on
The sidewalk, smoking a long cigarette,
Eyeing the girls and eyeing the boys
Hands in air, gestures to the
Moon-god, say old moon, what
Do you do for kicks, slicks, tricks?
So you see this really is just about
The jazz beat, beat-of-my-
Heart, tin can words on a sweet
Summer morning, it’s about
Blues-be-gone, ships sailing by,
Crash of the waves, beat old me.
©trudy rowe 2006