Dragged Through The Mud Poem by John Ackerman

Dragged Through The Mud

well to bring cadence amidst the fallen dew
hope springs a new through the vibration of sorts
we have erected pyramids to honor our dead
my soul permeates a reason to go on strong
as a cordeal eruption in the vast scheme of things
the notion of a whisper let it filter through your head
faces with traces of muse its the walking dead
perhaps this is the land where Nero tread
Awake to the new day exposed by the sun light
let it be a reflection upon your hair

cover me like glue on the refuse of our love
willingly excuse the part that is dragged through the mud
as if a cow would chew its cud
dream with sweetness in the twilight of your room
keep the solace amidst the texture of a Persian rug
in silence now the halls perfume the room
nectar on the outside corner is inviting
pillars of granguer line the cement gloss of its perimeter
the gods have spoken through a channel as if a port in storm
curse the very day when you were actually born

languished in the modern man's head
a face full of lead base on what has been said
control is the real issue of the moment
vomit in red pools filled with blood
the occasion of the surplus train exposed to the elements
dirty barbed wire formed on its textile base asunder
like a cold clap in the dark you lit the inner spark of what I'm here to say
brevity amidst the humilty of letting things be
a reason to believe tossed away in the storm
the blatant mockery of each twist and turn
one soul soars while the other is soon to be burned

yet we can't have it both ways we must choose
there are two roads you can go by but in the long run there's still time to change the road your on.
Neil Young thought he could pack it in & by a pick up head out to L.A.
we shall never forget even in regret to show love to a friend