The Rip Post                                                                                              

Old-Time Medicine Men
I’m the last of the
Old-time medicine men
Coming to you from Zzyxz
Mineral Springs on the
Shores of beautiful
Soda Lake

Antediluvian herb tea,
A recipe handed down by
A Basque shepherd in
The red-clay country
Of Georgia. Nerve-cell
Food, the most delicious
Food you’ve ever tasted.

Brother Curtis Springer
Has been long gone,
Gone the way of
Eustace P. McGargle,
Cuthbert J. Twillie,
Stan and Ollie,
Uncle Claude himself.

What has become of our
Lovable rogues, touting
Benefits of snake oil
And rheumatiz medicine?

They’ve gone legit,
They’ve become realtors,
Financial planners,
Scammers and schemers
Of the worst order, no
Charm, no confidence.
Bottom-feeders on the
Lowest rung of
Carnivorous capitalism.

We’ve lost our way, we’ve
Succumbed to the terrors
Of the marketplace.
We’ve surrendered to
Greed and vanity.
The world is undone by
Our collective concupiscence.
Where is our shame?

Terrible crimes are done
in our name, torture, kidnap,
unlawful detention, just to
mention a few of the
infamous acts.

The culture of theft
Runs rotten through the
Heart of our world.
There can be no greater
Calling then to cry out
For justice and restoration
Of a level playing field.

All men are created equal,
Pursuit of happiness,
Truths that be self-evident.
Have become shunted
Aside, by the latest round
Of celebrity bingo.

I’m the last of the old-time
Medicine men. What
If my nostrum is the
Ultimate truth? Would you
Heed My spiel and make
A deal to forsake
Folly and commit
To truth for
Justice’s sake?

That’s all I ask,
That all I sell.
Rest assured,
It saves souls!
        ---Jack Oakes



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