Brimstone Tone

Potholes in my lawn won’t impede my progress going through the yard.

At times, walking through your past is essential to understanding where you presently stand.

But backpedaling through life, eluding what may appear to be a dim future, isn’t the walk of this Mann

Always on the defensive, anticipating the next man’s attempt to violate,

Sun up, to sun down, surprise is the element that hones this mysterious trait.

Mindless chatter applied to simple-minded acts,

Mix it like batter and what will you extract?

Simple Simon the Pieman!  Go bake a cake clown!

My frown is renown as the expression of life’s hard lesson.

Catastrophic situations rarely lead to standing ovations.

Rejected mail, cancelled visits, chow hall cacophony,

Is all a reality of the commonality behind a number that once bore the characteristics of humanity.

Casual thinking? No time for that!

A gentlemen of leisure?  Where’s he at?

Living in this box is my personal Hell on earth.

A lifetime within this existence doesn’t make this world my turf.

The softness of Mom’s voice being muffled by a mesh,

My lady’s beautiful brown eyes clouded by stains on the plexiglass.

It’s gotta be a test,

     Cause I can attest,

          To not always being at my best,

And still remain at the top of my game as the fire within proceeds to manifest.

My footing holds firm within this box of stone.

I stand alone repelling the state’s drones,

With a chiseled mind, spiritual outlook and this distinctive Brimstone tone.

Always 100,

MannofStat

Copyright © 2013 by Leroy Elwood Mann