Day Twelve (Way Late)

So....I fell asleep last night. Nice. I woke up, showered, got ready for school and didn't realize I had forgotten until about 9:30AM. So, if any of the original five ladies feel the need to punish me- comment or e-mail an idea. :) Here is a poem for yesterday.

The Best of You (tribute poem)

John Freel could have been
a triangle in another life.
The man was all bones
and angles-
Even his hair was made of
gel-hardened triangular black spikes.

Loud-mouthed yelling and screaming,
he knew his job:
Create marching machines.
We were his wheels and cogs

Band!
he yells
How far does the heel come up on the mark time?
ABOUT THAT FAR
we answer.
Then show me!

Freel was the Motown groove
in our collective steps
He demanded a little
R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
Our machine was slow to form,
But he was the metallic gray robot-
He was our H.A.L.
A driving force

Restless and relentless
a cat playing with mice,
Freel was our damn pied piper.
Band! How far does the toe
Come up on the roll step?
FOUR INCHES!
Show me!

Freel made us work for it
He rarely smiled in those
first weeks
The boogeyman come to life.
Demanding, never standing
Ever present- a god among children.

He was stealthy and silent:
a cat ready to pounce.
We waited for the day he would snap
or the day we'd put it all
Together.

Band! This ain't no disco!
Now show me your shit!
And we did- 11 minutes in heaven
for our pied piper made it
Suddenly clear:

His call, our answers
His scream, our flinch
It was all for the moment
The machine of his vision
Came into a life of its own.

"Has someone taken your faith?
It's real, the pain you feel
Your trust you must confess
Is someone getting the best, the best
The best
The best of you?"