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DRUMRAT 16h
The turmoil in my thoughts is still unending,
I want to write and tell You since we met,
The certainties produced have no dependings,
Nothing any more seems to be random or a guess.

She made memories taste of cigarettes,
From when I liked to smoke.
She was addictive like Barbiturates,
And recklessness, and jokes.


900 hundred zeroes couldn’t count it,
The everything I feel when I'm with You.
I could climb thirty dozen mountains
And come back never knowing any simpler truths.

Red Wine was our breakfast of Champions.
It's always later than you think she used to say,
Quoting a Roman sundial for a Reference,
Or perhaps a forgotten song by Doris Day.


You are the only lamp lit in my room at night.
The only shadow I cling to in the dark.
I make you up as a reality in 20/20 foresight,
It is destiny you'll be the best of me in my Stars.

She cried once when the Tide went out,
Saying it made the Beach look ugly and afraid.
Every Full Moon at Midnight was the crescendo of a shout,
Sun Risings and Sun Settings only moments in The Game.


How do we know, really know, what is Love's cause -
The unknown unknowings we haven’t tasted yet,
The gap to freedom under all locked doors,
Keeping us prisoners in our innocence nonetheless?

I hear my dejections in these echoes,
My own hope's reverberations off these walls,
This little poem (a loneliness) a Song from Once Ago,
And Her mystery, the Enlightenment she brought.


...
DRUMRAT Mar 25
Life is stacking boxes,
Keeping your head on straight, Soldier -
Top of your shoulders.
Whatever Perfection is
the Average will do just great
When finally you get to that place...
The Long Haul is over.

Looking back and seeing the climb,
All the people and faces
Are just Time exposures - That's okay, Soldier.
And it's okay now, to bask in the applause,
Take the bows and be center-stage,
Dare the spotlight, stop turning the pages...
The Long Haul is over.

There are always moments
When a joke is Not the answer,
But we choose it anyway
For the craic and for the banter.
Put that change in your pocket now, Soldier
Leave the Bar and walk quietly away...
The Long Haul is over.

A pint of Guinness for a Tune,
A Poem, or a Story for the ever after?
This Life is never a journey,
This Death is not a closure, but
There are only so many hours in a day, so
No, no more stacking boxes today, Soldier...
The Long Haul is over.
Rest in Peace, Dunney Lad.

— The End —