Ode to Tojo

Ode to Tojo

I knew a man.
He played guitar for change.
I’d buy him this and that.
So he wouldn’t be
too cold and hungry.

I knew a man.
Who informed me that
beer is liquid bread.
This wisdom passed onto me.

I knew a man.
Who was kicked off
the white church steps.
Because Christ
would have done the same.

I knew a man.
Whose guitar got stolen.
And couldn’t play for change.
So, we got him a new one.

His songs were generally
one chord but
once he recorded an album.
And only few in town has it.
Cherished like the Ark of the covenant.

I sat at his funeral.
His family flooded the home.
His casket looked bare
without his guitar.


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