The House With No Idea

Life-long ambition is only a generation away

   (made from cut up paper and loose bits of change)

      Jack built the house

            Jack knows his shit

                    Jacked it all in

                     Before ‘The Man’ called him in

                            And threw a curve ball

                                  With a damn low down kinda spin

                              A 4-color warrior

                       Who pockets the difference

               Giving the profile a rainblow glow

            As the others in the bullpen

        Fake artistic diffidence

         But remember even though

             They may hold hands

      (two dimensionally)

    Kid, they’ll break your heart

              They won’t mean to

    But they’ll break your heart

  And the crackle you hear

             When it’s folded in on its self

                        Is to create masterpieces

                            That refuse to just sit quietly

                                  Over there on the shelf