RUBBING OUT DECLINE

There's much to profit here for those who have the cash        
Scraping road liners to push past their ashy ankles        
The whole place smells from the dumpsters round the backs        
In this world        
            Lives a boy        
                      Struefius by name        
With a cat, a rat, and a mansion        
                           In the hat on top his head        
Striving around        
            With what's in his heart        
                           Feeling for everything        
He sits down his top        
              Two cats run by      
                         The one in his hat to chase        
                                     After freedom and spirit        
  Leaving a dead rat in it's place        
Struefius cries        
        “At least what there for the mansion        
                           Bestowing my own graceful love.”        
He hoists the heavy hat on high        
                              “Fits like a glove!”        
“What of my tiresome providence?" he frowns                                                                                
                           “Do old men have no shame?”        
“To help me carry my beauty and contempt.”        
                                 He tears his books to drain        
“It's worth the fight to doddle.” dear Struefius says        
        “To save what might be great.”        
So expensive to stand out grabbing worth for value's sake        
Struefius grows and grows        
                        As most men do        
                                     Some fast some slow        
All the things he sees        
Snaps a piece        
Of never knowing        
The clasps of frustration's glee touching brilliance        
Wrongly learning        
         A few minutes only matters if you're dying or dead        
    When you betray your hand a small piece of you dies        
What goes for the living can only come back with stinky insects        
Learning        
      The things you wipe off still carry what touched them        
       Thrown back fish, messengers, soiled love, or burnt gems        
You can find what you want        
                    If you have the time to look for it        
Learning        
      What you need isn't greed        
                          But it doesn't sell things        
A bird doesn't have to use the use of a wing        
Learning        
      Penguins love to be who they are        
                  Cursing their ancestors for flying so far        
Learning        
      The more you learn the more you can test        
Chiefs, tires, the rich, and the upset        
       
       
       
When you're tired you can get really far        
Naked, skinny, burning, and scarred        
When you know you don't know everything there's so much to learn        
He thought so much of those things that he earned        
As time sprouted on        
  Struefius knew learning was good        
                           But things that earn        
                                            Aren't in torn books              
However far from a man        
                    Struefius starts to forget        
To care for the loneliest heart of regret        
He forgot all those things now only knows four        
The dead. the tired, the cheap, and money from the poor        
Earning got so important to him        
Poor Struefius got a bag and a look        
He could learn what he earned if he learned what he took        
He could earn the world and fix it good        
He knew he'd have to be brave and wise        
To be rich as a tyrant but good on the eyes        
So young not a man        
             Struefius grows from lost food          
Grows more and gains wood        
                      Seven Eighths tall now        
Struefius shows it takes dedication to overflow a small purse        
And a love that is strong to conquer the Earth        
Loins curious        
 Young men see the world without even seeing what is unfurlled        
So Struefius searches        
              But not very long        
                             Finds what he's seeking        
                                             A love before Fall        
This love sees Struefius earn cash, paste, and chips        
And then tells him “My name's Jill.”        
They start growing together slower than ever        
Struefius thinks        
             If we go on like this a world ends before        
My love and I can't grow past the shore        
They parked        
They harked        
They sparked        
They arched        
But then sometimes the car wouldn't start        
Jill wonders what for is a heart?        
“I'd like to own seven eighths of a park.” says Struefius        
Jill shrugs “What of this all tis just a lark?”          
Struefius knows she needs something or else she'll depart        
Struefius emotes        
          “You may not like me now      
                     But I've got one thing you'll love        
A needle administered with the heart of a glove.”        
Jill with nothing to do about all her new shoes        
She went with poor rich Struefius and gave him something to lose        
       
       
       
       
Time strays on Jill thirsty for sweeter mortar        
She queries Struefius as a young man        
              “I know you can chop wood and carry lumber        
                                     But can you carry water?”        
Struefius bewildered has no reply        
                 So his love sweeps away somewhere to die        
“Whatever of this          
              There's all the beauty of a wallet        
                          For a man to own, hold, and fight for”        
Struefius grumbles        
“I can pay for anything        
A savior, a joy, or a whole gross of wedding rings”Struefius prides        
What all of the things he could pay for        
Struefius wandered to a store        
                    On the way he passed a woman of no virtue        
The surly woman gasped “What'd you like me take your passidet?”        
Strufius fought the urge to flee        
                               Still        
                                 Eventually walked off silently        
All of a sudden Struefius grows no more        
His thoughts only cherish seeing that whore        
Struefius drifting goes to seek mission        
                    To a holey courier or anyone who'll listen        
Under a stack of magazines he finds        
                       A preacher who's lost all of his dreams        
“Go to the meetings of rich elderly concession”        
                                       The preacher shoos        
“Those men are just like you”        
Struefius thought the preacher was just lazy        
                       He trotted off to the meeting suspiciously        
At the meeting the rich old bags grumbled        
                            Eloquently enough but didn't stumble        
“What of a young man Struefius?” Struefius exclaims        
A rich old man's chorus sings        
                    “We care not of your young man's claim”        
Though you can be healthy, wealthy, and tall        
           You're still starting out and to us you're so small”        
Struefius knew his elders must be right        
                    With huge manors resting above their brains        
They see no poor man's light        
As Struefius leaves he hears a youthful cry        
“Who needs money in the grave?        
                          Those men are neither brave nor wise”        
Struefius sure denies the loan        
          He would like to have children with golden bones        
The cat in the window is missed by all        
                At the show of dinosaurs grasping at claws        
Twisted poor Struefius buys the poor        
                          Himself no longer to his self a sore        
When he meets any man he always speaks truth        
For any young boys his lies save lost teeth        
  Forgetting the strong have to die with the meek        
Struefius goes to buy the library and tear it        
                        Then inside he thought he would wear it        
Then strides in a young man named Jim        
                             Jim wearing seven eighths of a grin        
Jim yells out loud        
             “If man knows no art he'll be no man's friend”        
Struefius got an idea from the odd sCent        
He thought what a worry to write a Struefius story        
In his book the world realized everything is Struefius        
He realized it's his diary and threw it into wood chips        
Through trying to conquer with art        
Struefius filled up his wallet by selling the stark        
He got to touch what his wallet loved        
Then back to the bank with a sterile glove        
Struefius thought he had finished growing        
                  Then started to feel his body getting blurry        
Struefius never worried for what's burning        
Unlearning        
      Life within his wallet's so bully        
Struefius thought out loud for he knew the cares of his struggle        
“What a pain at having such an easy life        
                          Everything so bland        
                                   No glorious hunger or strife”        
To never know how much a meal tastes        
                  When starving for beauty at the end of a stake        
       
       
       
       
       
Now Struefius has had so much he knows        
                           That he's old lost from young touch        
His heavy head travels to his once fumbled love        
      Were he a young boy in his mind a song would have budded        
The world he had fought for wasn't a world at all        
It was frail stained leather in an empty hall        
Struefius thought of the beauty he wished to protect when he was young        
Learning one more thing        
           Beauty protected hurts all the majesty that's unsung        
“With all of this mixed up passion        
                              What for a reason to fight”        
“Time will rest for no one        
                         I wish it was sorry for me”        
Struefius declares as he finally puts down his hat to rest for the night        
He wishes he had put down that heavy mansion        
                                 And chased the cat along and ago        
       
BREAK        
       
       
       
       
Poem by:        
M.E.L.