Ode to Jerry

by:  Me

Consider a guy we called Jerry
Whose father was also named Larry
He dated a Cindy
and flirted with Mindy
But still ended up with a Mary

He later became a big teacher
And many thought him a preacher
He played well the drums,
And learned to fight off the bums,
But star light was always his best feature

In Georgia a House he did build
The workmen he would’ve had killed
But during a flight,
he considered his plight,
and other values he’d already instilled

He surely was a busy guy
Who feared he lived a big lie
But others did less
and made a big mess,
And Jerry just had to ask why.

So, just like the man from St. Ives
He thought reincarnation all lies.
But with no divinity
and just multiple activity,
He managed to live numerous lives.

His music he often performs
He clings to old standards and norms
And, with emotion in sound,
with expression abound,
He renders and tenders his art forms

So much lost for today’s youth
He finds their culture uncouth
With all history unknown,
the past overthrown,
Hubris replaces the truth

Fishing for a day they're not learning
For social sharing they are yearning
Training for skill is no Art
I think they know no Descartes
And all the bridges they're still burning

Now all get trained without being smart
Without education its a poor start
No Knowledge their fate
My warnings too late
That life needs understanding and Art

Now with gray hair his disguise
His influence and youth in demise
For some he can teach
and others he’ll preach,
To get them to see all the lies.

He’s done his books and CD’s
Maybe more yet to come if you please
He’ll leave all behind
for his kids and mankind,
In spite of disinterest they tease

So, looking ahead now to retire
a race to endure, not expire
He chose to forego
his career even though,
He’s told he did often inspire.

Now near the grandkids he will stay
The path to tomorrow they lay
Each strong and bold
Their futures to hold
And teach them no time like today.

This report he can always amend
Skill and ability he’ll transcend
With many new deeds
that sometimes succeeds,
Only the poem is now at an end.


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