furblown and thrashed out

/bark bark bark

I've been
roamin' on a road trip
what's the dog to do?
gone to see some family and trying to be true
but you know i was hidin' behind those mirrors, Q.

just like that overstuffed control freak of pink
bike week i think
i was blowing past tons of ink
calling attention to the dark in a blink
glance into the rearview he's
unsnapping his holster
brother does your cojones that bolster?
and now the familiar heart sink
yeah....
I'm minding my manners for the FHP too
a little bit of rebel with a lot more of a clue.

through the county that holds
the place of
my birth
rolling hills; the good earth
landscaped with coolant-hued sink holes
and the horse of famous video roles
the first days back
had an attack!
my wild home was now whack
*check yourself dog*
the now is all there ever is
these new people coming in?
they don't know what it's been, to them
its a biz.

but i remember the bayhill fog
rising off marsh and swamp
now its a country club
dangerous ground
to romp
no criticism
just witticism
on manicured greens and society scenes
the marketed promise of the joy it brings
but no people bypasses life's sorrowful things.
listen,
just focus on the fragrance of orange
blossoms at night
the osceola turkey. the osprey flight.

the red-tailed spread that rust to shield me

from the sun
i looked for the natives
but there were hardly none
earth-moving yellows with jaws like a shark
building new places
named for the things
they took apart

dear WALT!
it ain't your fault
your happy creation was
a mouse
that became a rat
and a concrete paradise at that
they bought it all
to present a fake florida to ya'll.

i'd rather look at
mullets, camaros, skynard clones and chrome
much more than this
kitsch reinvention of my home

*just saying*

"silk" is an escape pod
for all occasions
flee away dog from the sun-people raisins
to the interior of oak hammock and moss
i expected the change
but not the loss
new rules for the neighborhood
and the end of the ranches
asphalt and walls and
hurricane branches
the concrete tee-pees and dixie fried chicken
are MIA or taking a lickin'
to gentrification and attrition
its my highest mission
to enjoy what still is
and not what's missin'
and besides
my mama lives there
is there any better reason
this season to bear?

/grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr