persian revolution

Dreary day dreary day
Swaying, Swimming, Swagger...
They toss the poor old man out on the curb.
"Alls Is sayin' is.....Ain't that Nat King Cole?
Must have wandered into the wrong door.
Saw him stumble out of a foreign film only labeled as Moscow
on the marquee.
"Moscow? Eugh. Ruskies!"
Drunk at mid day.
Alive.
A weary traveler in a forest of red velvet ropes and stuffy
bourgeois types, "Oh me I've never SEEN such a sight!"
But their stares reflect back from this mirrored mass of
Olde English and, hopefully a flask of bourbon.

This reflections created by his aura feels like it came from
years of service in all forms and from fighting many a battle.
Conflict of the armed type. Charlie most likely.

This antiquated entity stumbles back to the bar and asks, "Gat ah Bud?!"
and, would you believe some kid says to him," Hey old man, maybe you've already had plenty".

The dirty figure arches his back out of it's hunch
and explains to the whole room:
"I believe that a man can always make something out of what is made of him. This is the limit I would today accord to freedom: The small movement which makes of a totally conditioned social being someone who does not render back completely what his conditioning has given him."

He turns to the door and says "Yr all a bunch of damn fools. And yr too damned conservative." Facing the street, he sees the newly paved road as the heavens with bright stars shooting at different speeds towards one direction.