Poem Number 335

I haven't got a pot of gold
just a hand full of bills and this American Dream I'm told
beaten and prodded, a destitue soul
My spirit left the Spirit to bump Body & Soul in my body & soul
Spririts surround my soul and destroys it.
I have a duck
It's filled with luck
No more duck luck shmuck, time to make hurricanes spin on axis
Time to access His grace, writing with the roots of the Earth to blot out my taxes
Don't think iIget it , don't t hink I will
It sounds kind of empty, is there something it can fill?
Oh well maybe it wasn't meant to be understood
Believe me I would if I could.
It will never be good if you dont try to do right
But the ability to try takes might
I live every day with this frieght.
Every day I see this as a dream.
Its creeping me out, I'm starting to scream
And meanwhile behind the scenes