"perkins" poems
I'll study the demise in your eyes and wonder if there was ever a time that you cried
For your loss.
I'll copy and trace the structure of your face and realize that
I am you.
Then I will show you a picture of my Dad and tell you but
This
Is my father.
Your genome may construct the structure of my bones but
I am his daughter.
And I am my mother
And I wonder, if you'll find it any if at all meaningful-
When I look you in the eyes and ask you
How someone so ugly
Can create something so beautiful.
When God created you,
He created the creation of me
And all I know about my identity is that I'm half Haitian
But that limb fell off from my family tree.
I pray
That God finds it in his heart to love you
Because God doesn't love the ugly.
Fortunately,
My skin may be tinted from the sins that make me your kin
But from the outside in
I look just like my mother.
Do you remember what she looks like?
My name is Rissa Ann Perkins, and I hope that you can't sleep tonight.
I hope that you frame a photo of my face in your brain
And if ever again should you dream,
I hope you wake up screaming my name.
Are you ashamed?
I'm not here to blame you
I came to show you
Just. How. Beautiful. I. Am.
And I just have to know what it feels like
To know that
I
Am you.
You gave me life.
I am you,
And I don't even love you.
So I have to know,
Do you love yourself?
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
11/24/2013
I envy the
teacups,
that get to
touch your lips
I envy the
blankets,
that get to
touch your skin,
and keep you
warm
I envy your
bedroom walls,
which have seen you
smile,
and laugh,
and cry,
and sweat
I envy the
computer screen,
that gets to
stare at you
for hours
on end
I envy your
hair brush,
which is allowed
to run through
your hair,
like I wish
my fingers could
I envy
the stars,
which you look up to,
and talk to
when things get bad
I envy the
water,
that gets to
run along your spine,
and collarbones,
when you take
a shower
I envy the
stuffed animal,
that you sleep
next to
every night,
for I wish
it was me
instead
and I envy
everyone
that you talk
to,
for I wish
I could talk to you
instead
I envy
everyone,
and everything,
that gets to
touch you,
and look at you,
and listen to you,
for I can not
be there to
touch,
or look,
or listen
I am only
hundreds of miles
away
but I hope,
I wish,
I pray,
that someday
I will replace
that teacup,
or those blankets,
or your bedroom walls,
or your computer screen,
or your hair brush,
or the stars,
or the water in the shower,
or your stuffed animal,
or everyone,
that gets to
touch you,
look at you,
and listen to you,
if only just
for a minute
© 2013 Chloe Perkins
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 6:02 AM UTC
Wal, Thanksgivin’ do be comin’ round.
With the price of turkeys on the bound,
And coal, by gum! Thet were just found,
Is surely gettin’ cheaper.
The winds will soon begin to howl,
And winter, in its yearly growl,
Across the medders begin to prowl,
And Jack Frost gettin’ deeper.
By shucks! It seems to me,
That you I orter be
Thankful, that our Ted could see
A way to operate it.
I sez to Mandy, sure, sez I,
I’ll bet thet air patch o’ rye
Thet he’ll squash ’em by-and-by,
And he did, by cricket!
No use talkin’, he’s the man—
One of the best thet ever ran,
Fer didn’t I turn Republican
One o’ the fust?
I ‘lowed as how he’d beat the rest,
But old Si Perkins, he hemmed and guessed,
And sed as how it wuzn’t best
To meddle with the trust.
3.3k
The truth is hidden until proven wrong
Pain concealed, there lies a mask instead
On his lips forever there was a song
Deep down his heart continually plead
At certain times the mask was firmly placed
But alone it fell to pieces through tears
When the time came to go home his heart raced
Fueled by continual vivid fears
He found himself in a circular room
Corners were no longer there to hide in
No one knew he would end it with a boom
For not knowing some felt a burning sin
Some of us heard with no tears of sorrow
Others know they'll not forget tomorrow
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 2:59 PM UTC
He's Uncle John to you, but John to the rest of us
Got a way of telling stories without the fanfare or the fuss
He can jump into any conversation, has a lot of stuff to say
and every bit is interesting 'cause that always been John's way.
There was one about his summer job before 1970,
paid to push a Swan-shaped boat off a dock in Asbury
With a grapple hook on a ten foot pole, or something of that sort
well he'd push 'em out and pull 'em in wasn't doing it for sport~
The same guy who owned the swan boats, tunneled love across the way
twice a week John worked the darkness, but preferred the light of day.
Played rhythm at the Upstage in band called 'Cory' later
workin' Perkins in West Belmar, took the name from the percolator
Around that time he grew his hair out, it was like an Afro-sheen
mistaken for Tinker, a surfboard chinker and drummer with Springsteen.
Cruisin' down around Brookdale in his '39 LaSalle
Met 'Stinky' Tink at Thompson Park, where he was singing with his pal
Hey John, you look like Tinker,
but now you favor Gere
a live ringer for Mike Richards,
and don't forget DeNir-
Oh, if you can't remember anything from 40 years ago
just ask your Uncle John who knows the time in Tokyo.
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 5:57 AM UTC
we took the long way
to Hadley and MacFadden, goin' about twenty-five in twenty-six ways...
twelve sheets to the wind at a cosmic chili banquet. we wove through the tambourines and headlights -
cruising through the pinch in the grid, on the Eastside. where Margret hustles feathers from very still pigeons, and Mosley, that little runt Mosley conquered Connie Haskel's Willow Tree in the backyard.
we were coming up on something special in our Hometown
but we were low on gas, and had just bought Beer.
this scenario was on repeat. night after night in the sultry debauch of a languid stroll in a couch rocket.
glaring at the skirts on Perkins and 5th, that eat seaweed and cough drops.
they're so hot you just wanna drive a better car.
we used to park -
at Todd's Mom's and walk to the Slaughtered Hog and order a rack O' ribs and drink moonshine, smokin' that **** and sitting next to ****** jockeys in jogging suits and headbands that say " i sweat profusely, when I want too. "
And Carmen What'sHerName? used to get our table 'cause i figured out the location of her section.
she would smile and bring pecan pie
and flash those eyes that said " i'm off in an hour " . we sang to Muzak - and
left our To-Go Boxes at the table; stumbling through the lot
fumbling for the keys to the TARDIS.
and thinking about Carmen.
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
"We cannot have homeland security unless we understand our PLANET is our homeland."
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 5:00 AM UTC
Holding me gently
with calloused hands
On blades of grass
I'm too weak to stand
In the autumn rain
beneath the colored leaves
Oh sweet honey
you bring me to my knees
Like wings of a butterfly
And pollen shared with a bee
Scent from a flower
You're my sweet honey
As flowers bloom
wings take flight
Making sweet honey
In the rain tonight
Like wings of a butterfly
And pollen shared with a bee
Scent from a flower
you're my sweet honey
Oh sweet honey
you bring me to my knees
In the autumn rain
beneath the colored leaves
Making sweet honey
With my baby tonight
Oh sweet honey
you bring me to my knees
In the autumn rain
beneath the colored leaves
©Erin K. Perkins
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 10:19 AM UTC
A sudden surge tears through the underbrush
A tumbling tackle of growling fur
A cornered coyote attacked by my two dogs
I stand and watch
Like it's some nature show
More horrible in real life
Strange how long it takes
A good twenty minutes
They must edit those shows
He is wounded, wants only to escape
My dogs refuse, synchronously circle
One hundred and eighty degrees apart
He knows nothing of degrees
He cannot watch them both
So always, one unseen
Dives in to wound him more
Unlike him, I can -
Watch the whole show
From a safe distance
I do
Twenty minutes is an eternity
Death does not come easy
There are breaks
Like rounds in a prize fight
A minute or two for everyone to rest
He lies there in the middle
My dogs nearby
Everyone relaxed and panting
Like friends on a hot afternoon
Perhaps they’ll let him go
He tries but, no.
They continue the carnage
He inflicts a few wounds of his own
But the outcome is now becoming clear
Knowing this, he whines and begs
Like a pup crying for his mother
My dogs do not care
I keep watching
Finally it’s over
He lies there, mouth wide open
Showing his beautiful white teeth
Eyes wide open, showing what I have no wish to see again
His life flashing before his eyes
And mine
The whole time, I just stood there
Did nothing to assist the ****
or stop the violence
Remained on the safe sidelines
A ****** of violence
Only when it's safe do I approach
I take his picture
What was it the aborigines said?
“No pictures -
Your pictures steal our soul”
But I insist
I take the pictures
I steal the souls
His and mine
Cliff Perkins
September 13, 2016
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 11:05 AM UTC
You like mangos
And plums
Anime
And documentaries
Fuckin' Monty Python
And classy cuisine
God knows when we fell in love
Somewhere between the face masks
And the endless laundry maybe?
The late night runs to Perkins
Or the early morning love making?
It's a beautiful blur of memories
That dance along my heart and mind
That I wouldn't trade for anything
You like olives
And cold brew
Sleeping in
And video games
Staying inside
And the smell of coconuts
It's never been taxing to love you
It's the easiest thing I can do
You make love fun
Between the out of town drives
Hole in the wall coffee dates
And movie marathon nights
It's all that heart warming Hallmark ****
That you get in a greeting card
You like donuts
And sandwiches
Memes
And making love
Cool breezes
And me
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 3:41 PM UTC
give me your clothes to wear
so that when i'm lonely or sad
i know i have a part of you with me.
tell me i'm beautiful when i look terrible.
hold me when i'm sleeping so i know
the monsters in my head won't bother me
for just a single night.
wake me up with kisses
when the morning light peaks through the windows
to our small apartment.
take me to perkins at three in the morning
simply because we can.
stargaze with me.
let me lie on your chest
and run my hands through your hair
and kiss your lips
and call you mine.
spend every second you can with me
because you can't stand the thought
of being away from me
for more than a day.
let me sing to you when you're tired
let me rub your head when you're sick
let me wake up next to you every single day.
let me love you.
and please
love me in return.
that's all i ask of you.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 10:32 PM UTC
The cumulus clouds built overhead
But were dark, and filled with rain,
They brought to the sky a sense of dread
Of the storm to come, and pain,
The wind picked up in the barley fields
And the sea beat in to the shore,
‘If you don’t go out and anchor the boat
It will land on the rocks, for sure.’
I didn’t want to go out that day
But my father said I must,
All that my brother did was play
So I thought it so unjust.
‘Why is it always me,’ I said,
‘When Fred’s as handy as I,
He only goes when the weather’s calm
With not a cloud in the sky.’
It made no odds so I had to go,
They didn’t give me a choice,
I was the child of the family,
The one with the weakest voice.
I took the skip and I rowed on out
Where the Huntsman strained its chain,
With the breakers crashing across the prow
On top of the driving rain.
I seized the rope and clambered aboard
Then tied the skip to a post,
It was only held by a slender cord
To the Huntsman, as its host.
I went for the starboard anchor then
And slipped it into the sea,
That would give it a second hold, I thought,
But in truth, there should be three.
The waves were crashing across the deck
And the Huntsman wheeled around,
Now side-on to the waves it heeled
With a rasping, creaking sound,
If only Fred hadn’t lost the anchor
Chained up close to the bow,
I would be able to hold the swing
But it wasn’t likely now.
The swell was something tremendous and
The rain came down like sleet,
What with the sway and the decks awash
It was hard to keep my feet.
Slowly the boat had begun to drift and
Drag its chains to the shore,
Down in a trough, and then the lift
As the swell built up once more.
Making my way to the cabin door
I locked myself inside,
Then started the Perkins diesel and
Prepared to go for a ride,
I thought that if I could turn the bow
And point it out to sea,
We might be able to ride it out
The boat, brute force, and me.
I didn’t know that my brother Fred
Had borrowed somebody’s skiff,
And now was heading on out to help,
My father had said ,’What if?’
The diesel roared into life and tugged
The anchors in its wake,
But wouldn’t respond to the rudder
I had made my first mistake.
Borne on the swell, the Huntsman roared
And headed in to land,
Nothing I did would turn the bow
Though I had the wheel in hand,
I’ll never live down the Huntsman’s loss
Or forget that awful sound,
That terrible scream like a nightmare dream
As I ran my brother down.
David Lewis Paget
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 1:37 PM UTC
HOW ONE MR. TONY PERKINS GOT HIS COMEUPPANCE!
** ** ha ha
Louisiana floods
destroy the home of
Church leader who
says God sends
natural disasters
to punish gay people.
See him escaping
in a canoe
from a deluge of
"almost Biblical proportions."
I love God's
sense of humour
when outing a bigot
and an idiot.
Good for God.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 7:58 AM UTC
Drank too
much whiskey
went to shoot Tommy Perkins
Spent all my cash on
the whiskey
clubbed Tommy Perkins
upside the head with the gun
and told him he better give
me the money he owes me
when he pays me I'll load my gun
and get back to the
original plan.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC
Putting the world
to rights,
I expect.
She, Mrs Clark,
and Old Ma Collins
are like an outpost
of the United Nations.
They’d put
the world to rights
all right. No one else
would get a word in
edgeways. Had a bloke
like that in the army.
He could talk the hind leg
off a donkey. Bit simple
he was, but he did half talk.
Perkins he was called.
Ronald Perkins.
Lost a leg he did,
but didn’t stop him talking.
Reckon if he lost his head
he’d still manage
to chat away
to himself somehow.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 6:02 AM UTC
what matters in the end is you were kind
even to those you thought far in the wrong
which brought its wisdom and it made you strong
when the all the shouters said you undermined
goodness itself while you cursed them for blind
unpatriotic fools chanting their lone song
always so eager to make pain last long
while you desired to open up each mind
now that is in the past and what is left
is wisdom recollect gentle words and soft
suggestions made without pretence or guile
we see so clearly how all ends in theft
of those things we have held highest aloft
but we will all get to there in a while
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 11:33 AM UTC
Music is a part of headgear so most of the colors of death
in the atmosphere is about 2 amino acids, but it is a Latina
of the stars and other flags, golden of America.
Change is for musicians under the sun, you are your way.
Queen marine style zone is early morning time.
I died in the Cold War. British Anglo Asia teen beauty lost
his wife, John is in the center of Sky Europe Ballo snow Blue
spirit of July goddess; Jesus Christ returns but of evil, Russian
evil rain If you eat food If you are a friend of a garden radio
satellite square A series of titles called **** in French is a fun game
for children aged 6 and 60, full of hope and Ritalin.
I am worried about the book, but the old words are true.
For example, to the image of Russia by the power of the eagle
under the stars. Igor is very nervous. There is a ghost.
There are many words about nature. Decorative jewelry,
mouth, tongue and waist are salty, ***** crazy, the mirror
is cool, and it functions as a stone on the outside wall.
I will find what we did not find. The purpose of the God
you have is the name of the image, taking half of the feet
to drink wine, even gay, blowing up and down,
and smoke as you do from the watery smoke from your feet
It is going to go Asian museum jelly ingredients are bad news.
Charlotte Perkins of Einstein's tree and school board
is a picture of a user; of Einstein who was asked to sleep
in the middle of the sun or burn in the middle of Los Angeles.
The tsunami that hit the mountain ranges was transmitted
to a drunk Chinese prophet, but the man from Goldman Sachs
was injured by the alchemy of Betty who wrote of the wars
of many people who often met with the general. Is the dog
on the ground? It falls on ts side with illness. The shoulder
of the preparation of the grace is that we have received
not the creation of a row of sacred happiness,
but in reality the latest signal for The Great Woman ...
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 3:34 AM UTC
❤
Since music is part of the headgear, most of the color of death in the air is about two amino acids, but it's Latin to the stars and other flags, golden gold from America. Changes are for the musicians in the sun, you are on your way. The Queen Marine Wind Zone is in the early morning hours. I lost in the cold war. The beauty of the British Anglo-Asian teen has lost his wife, John is in the heart of Sky Europe Baloo snooch blue spirit July goddess woman returned from Jesus devil evil rain in Russia If you are a friend of the food the garden radio satellite square series of titles called **** in French is full of fun games for kids, six and sixy, full of hope and Rs. The book is of concern but the old word is true. For example to the image of Russia with the power of the eagle under the stars. Igor is very tense. There is a ghost. There are many words about nature. Decorative jewelry and mouth and tongue and waist are salty, ***** crazy, cool in the mirror and acts as an outer wall stone. Find what we did not find. The purpose of the gods that you have is to say in the name of the image that you take half of the leaves of your feet to drink wine, even gay, up and down, and as smoke goes to your feet as you do from water, jelly materials in the Museum of Asian countries are bad news, my Charlotte Perkins of the Einstein tree and school boards are pictures of Einstein's users who were asked to sleep in the middle of the sun or burn in the middle of Los Angeles. The tsunami waves over the mountains came to the drunken Chinese prophet but the Goldman Sachs man was often wounded by the Alchemy of Bettie written by all the wars of the many who have met the General. Dog on the ground? taken ill and falling on his side; the shoulders of the preparation of grace we received is not to create a line of holy happiness, but in fact, is the latest sign for leading women.
❤
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 3:19 AM UTC
Every time I look up
Into the black ocean of night
I expect to see a falling star
Inevitably
The only ones whose light reaches my eye
Are fixed and fated
To remain eons after I've gone
That should be wonder enough
But I love a falling star
She guided my hand to the right spot
Said "This is how it's done"
I said "This is all there is?"
"Isn't this enough?"
"I thought it would be so different"
"It isn't"
"You're like a stranger to me now"
"Run your finger down the side"
"Your skin is dry and unfamiliar"
"Kiss me on the lips"
"Your tongue is like a withered flesh-prune"
"That Meat Loaf song is so romantic"
"I never bargained this with you"
"Aren't you the lucky one"
"Inside your mouth is like a desert"
"Keep your hand out of my pants"
"Oh, I really don't know what it was doing down there, as I'm not interested"
"Is it past midnight yet?"
"Long ago, this lesson has gone on too long"
"I'll let you love me tomorrow"
"By then it will be too late"
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 1:10 AM UTC
Guns or knives; barrel or edge,
Choose which way to end
In times of war where conflict stands
The tongue is the hammer to–
Feelings, propellant to bullet words
The eyes are hands that throw–
Tears, daggers to the heart that's stone
As the cloud of smoke fades with the wind
And crimson river streets are all but dried and stains
Remember destruction is brought upon
By thine own hands
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC
Take tea and breakfast
to Master George's room,
Dudman the butler had said.
So Polly takes the tray
and slowly opens the door
to his room.
He's asleep,
his eyes closed,
his head turned
towards the windows,
where the curtains
are still drawn
letting in
only a dull morning light.
She lays the tray
on the small table
by the window
and looks over at him;
one of his hands shakes
on the bed cover,
the other out of sight.
She turns and draws back
the curtains slowly
and quietly, and the sunlight
pours in blinding her eyes.
Behind her George Elmore
sits up rigid
as if electrified,
his eyes wide open
staring at the window,
and shouts:
LOOK OUT GYWER.
Polly turns in alarm
and leans back
against the table,
staring at him:
what is it Master George?
she says.
He is shaking;
his hands tremble
at his sides.
She runs to him
and holds him
against her breast.
George what is it?
it's me Polly,
she says,
holding him in her arms,
shaking,
holding him.
His words mumbling:
Gwyer where's Gwyer?
he utters softly,
grabbing her tightly.
Her thoughts are in confusion;
she feels useless,
but holds onto him:
George it's me Polly.
He looks at her,
his eyes distant gazing.
The door opens
and Dudman stands there:
what has happened?
he says,
gazing at her
and then at the man
she is holding:
what happened?
he says again.
He began shouting out
a man's name,
she says,
and he was shaking
and I just grabbed him
to stop him
falling from bed.
Dudman looks at her,
his eyes dark:
lay him back on the bed
this moment and leave;
I’ll have the doctor come,
he says.
He's ill,
she says.
Leave now,
Dudman says.
She lays George down gently;
his hands grab her arms,
his fingers gripping her tight:
where's Gwyer?
he says.
He's resting George, resting,
she says in his ear.
He lies back
and stares at the window,
releasing her arms,
like one letting go of rope
and falling back
into dark seas.
Dudman sighs
and says,
go Perkins please.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 3:38 PM UTC
she steps between the boards onstage;
she knows which ones will creak.
the days repeat, the setting stays:
she knows it’s her we seek.
although the curtain’s long been dropped,
she will not end the show;
for we will find her when she stops;
it’s her we seek, she knows.
emma, emma, you have lost;
i’m sorry, but it’s true.
so listen to the man you trust
and let him come to you.
emma, you will come to us,
no matter what you do.
our meteor glows a starry blue,
our spores dance in the air,
our audience cheers (they cheer for you!)
she screams, but no-one’s there.
and when we meet, when we embrace,
(a scene learned from her dreams)
she looks for him inside our face
but no-one’s there. she screams.
emma, emma, you have lost
your way, but we are here.
and as we made the man you trust
into the man you fear,
emma, you have come to us,
and we will make you hear.
she struggles as we hold her down;
she still rejects our peace,
but as she hears our hallowed sound,
she weeps at her release.
our blueness heals her broken bone
that rigor mortis keeps,
and one with all, and all alone,
at her release, she weeps.
emma, emma, you have lost
so much, but we have gained
the music of the man you trust,
the music of your pain.
emma, you have come to us
to join in our refrain;
emma, you have come to us
to sing in our domain.
Sep 26, 2021
Sep 26, 2021 at 9:55 AM UTC
External Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Aliens vs Predator vs Predator in the shadow of Saudi Arabia and from Dikon to Germany, and a friend who helps the armed forces in the ruins of his mother and the name of his mother was in the game, the best in the world, Coleman, the mother of Paul who after reaching the girl that does not give. Three colors are colder than the young skin of the nose. The vitamin's vitamin. However, this may be the case. This game is not as good as the one in the United States. A family of wood; and support in the United States. "War is like a fire that destroys", "The history of the region of the Catania region, Africa, Germany and Fox." And it was great Indians such as in European and Trinidadian celebrations. That he is a member of the United States. The woman owes, in particular the mass Key of literary Paul. Then go to the market with your desire to document the package, we cannot. Sad parts and all the members of the Church out of fear. But this cannot cause vitamins in vitamins. This game is not good for the United States. But the commander also made many Greeks follow Albert the loafer. Paul Young Paul, Santa Clara, Italy, Lorraine, United States, Canada, China, United States, Italy, Germany and Russia. - but in honor of the United States. It is not the fish. "In American society, the American Council of Anemone Pacific, Santa Clara, the farce and the future." The fear of technology as a political comedy. The city of the United States, Canada, Paul, Paul, Paul, Carl and Juan in the United States, the United States and 40 floors: Anita Perkins, Italy, Santa Clara.
______________________________________________
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 6:31 PM UTC
Why couldn’t you just shine, and never flicker?
Why couldn’t you forget me, like the rest?
Just let me be your ****** of a sister,
The failure that you pushed out of the nest.
You could have lived the life that you predicted:
A house, a yard, a minivan, a kid!
And I could hike the continent, contented
With what I’ve done, not caring what you did.
Whose fault was it? Which ******** here was driving
When all your glittering plans went up in ash?
How dare you break beyond hope of surviving;
How dare you die, Jane Perkins, in that crash!
How dare your number call me with no warning
That some guy’s voice would sob with tragic news?
How dare you write no checklist for this mourning,
This endless task that I can never snooze?
How do I shape a life outside your shadow?
How do I cut a path you never tread?
Why can’t I run away to Colorado,
What ties me down to Hatchetfield instead?
Of course I’m left to finish what you started;
This cruelty is all so very you —
You, accomplished, finished, done, departed —!
You’ve left me all the things I cannot do.
Feb 16, 2022
Feb 16, 2022 at 11:51 PM UTC
We're leaving memphis today
Thoroughly enjoyed our stay
Blues and Soul music on repeat
A walk up the famous Beale Street
Sun studios is a must of course, where legends got their first break
Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, Jerry Lewis and Elvis too
Gracelands you have to do!
Elvis's cars, golf buggies, bikes and planes
He loved his toys the collection is insane
From Memphis Tennessee by Amtrak cutting across the South, along the mississippi to Louisiana
Destination New Orleans
What will we see, what will we do?
Where will we go to eat at night?
Will there be Jazz bands in the streets, dancers and drummers at your feet.
What is that makes NOLA unique?
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 3:04 PM UTC