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Aug 2010
I am the brick, that has been named
Along the alley, to the last corner stand
There, right there, I claim my patch
And set myself,  a coozy hut

Wine, beer, cider, whisky, nuts and crisp
Smoky zones, now set out side
My banquet laid, for wandering souls
To find a refuge, rescued here on my patch

Escaped men, from domestic chores
Escaped men, from troubled minds
Escaped men, of destitute hungers

Escaped men, to find their buoys voice
All scream out, loud at transmitting box
22 men, seen on playground pitch
Right here on my patch, they watched and roared

Juke box plays, gives dancing feet
An eruption of ballads, ...
Fuelled by a happy lico ..

On my last bell ring, ding don
Staggered men, fall out off my patch
Till tomorrow, when I open up my doors
I am the brick, that has been named

http://poetrysoundbites.blogspot.com/
The Drinking Pub by Kodjo Deynoo is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at www.poetrysoundbites.blogspot.com
Written by
Kodjo Deynoo
857
     Patrick Kennon and D Conors
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