#2 Fans

Dr. Heckle & Mr. Jive

laugh and lie,

coerce—connive

fouler still

the duo thrives,

without—within

ingrained inside.

the Jivin’ hand

forms finger spin,

a jaZZy dig

at temple skin,

the Heckler

wags

his thumb from knows,

–as if he does–

yes, one of those…

the Jivin’ Man

plays games with shells

–where’s the nut?

he’ll never tell,

but Hecklin’ Dude

likes playin’ shill,

yellin’ catcalls

rude and shrill,

the Jivin’ Jokester

paints black→white,

in your face

calls left←right,

while ole Doc Heckle

–jeers–

when you,

decide which

state is true

(for you)

but if you were

to realize,

Dr. Heckle’s

only cred’

is self-endorsed

and authorized,

by fears that fester

in your head,

and Mr. Jive

can hoodwink only–

when you’re

unguarded

weak

and prone, he

presses hand

–he contradicts–

that sense in gut

(the better pick)

You can send

these peddlers’ packin’

by wieldin’

the whip & crackin’

down on doubts,

and second-guesses

lashin’

pair

with such redress, is

quite enough

to silence duo

–you’ve got the stuff–

don’t play the fool.