I've Got A Funky Bluesy Misery Poem by Paul Amrod

Funky, feeling discombobulated, dizzy
thrown around and saturated.
Never felt such unrelated mis'ry
Free me from these bonds
Take me from these wicked tyrants
laughing in their chambers
like some hungry wolves.
What the promise was
has changed in every form
Better burn the embers
Smoke them out in uniform.
Who's the umpire?
Who's the referee?
Are we damned to a devil's jamboree?
Got a funky bluesy misery

Free me from these ropes
I've been tied to nothing good
I'm weeping in my anger
Pull upon the string
Call upon the pope
Washing nothing but the danger
from the warning post.
Choose your fatal whim
with the morbid stranger.
Who's the umpire?
Who's the referee?
Are we damned to a devil's jamboree?
Got a funky bluesy misery

Save me from these packs of hungry canines
Can't you hear me whining?
Yes they'll howl and bark much louder
as they sniff and growl much prouder.
In the darkness appear the swine
as the nightmare begins defining
the awesome sense of urgency.
It was sold as just one small emergency.
We'd better heed this shining
and flee the quarters and climb the pines.
Under the blankets fast asleep
lies the dreamer of the third world's destiny.
Leaving pedals of withered flowers
to trace our movements in the deep.
As we escape the snapping wolves
and laughing hyenas.
Will it become a Roman arena?
Who's the umpire?
Who's the referee?
Are we damned to a devil's jamboree?
Got a funky bluesy misery