"reeled" poems
it was a dark dance
of an immovable body
as she was taken by the throat,
death, causing stupendous distortions
and entrancements of lunar landscapes
she reeled pirouettes between smothering
and seeing through a miraculous inner eye
deepening her sense of nothingness
as if pickled in a jar, suspended in
formaldehyde
held buoyant
where there is no reason for anything
moveless in a veiled corridor
inhabiting innerness, a raven fog
her ******* wet with the scent of fear and ***
she fell through the earth
into the infernal arms of
Hades
his tremulous kisses
a thousand glittering eyes
she could see through
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 10:35 AM UTC
that feeling when (your) finger tips clutch (my) bare skin
veiled in casual apathy
we watch the screen in silence
not knowing what to say
i don't know what went on
behind your flickering eyes
as for me, the moment of contact
sent jumpy tingles up my spine
unexpectedly
my mind reeled forward
to unspent nights in dance clubs or backyard barbecues;
the way your hands felt in mine when we leaned in
lips still intact--
unbroken
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
all real and vivid as it seems to be
none of it can be felt completely
a fluffy vision being reeled to our consciousness
suddenly evolving into a great nightmare
***
human voices always
ruining the good dreams
yet are life-savers when
we have our worst nightmares
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 9:15 AM UTC
Far narwhaled
silly monkey speared
aquatic creature cucumbered
another mammal tonight
On the fishing boat,
they reeled in both bodies
the monkey frozen solid
narwhal flapping harmlessly
They asked the monkey how it happened
his reply was this:
So they took his wide-eyed frozen stare
as for an admission of guilt.
his shock spoke volumes like
a speaker being blown out.
Tonight, the sailors drink moonshine.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:12 AM UTC
i.
the poem has a beginning exactly as you’d expect it:
pa in sweatshirt, ma with purse; the funny thing is
i never used to call them those names:
“pa,”
“ma,”
always found them too cowboy-ish,
too un-me, un-like
us: who held chopsticks before dinner time and shared
stories of how grandpa came over from china.
ii. (at the dinner table)
there is no symbolism here. there has been none
for a while now. this household eats and
eats in quiet. my grandmother is a poet but their
books all burned down
back in ’45 when mao stormed into fujian and
all her uncles could eloquent on was that
“the communists were coming!”
“the communists were coming!”
and instead of poems took with them their
children, and their gold to pawn
and their clothes on their muddy
mortar-stained backs
and the japanese
iii.
my grandfather now comes twice a week to the
hospital for chemotherapy. it is a nice hospital.
good view of the cleanest part of our *****
city. there are lights and white folks now. two things
my dad said did not used to be there. they
used to be spanish. they tilled
our rice fields and spent the money on living rooms
with lots and lots of space to sleep. we on the other hand,
worked. he claims.
your grandfather and his grandfather and i
iv.
awake every sunday morning at precisely 8:30.
made to go down to the temple in kalesas
and told to fetch the office paper for
noontime reading. see we weren’t spoiled: grew
up just next to the pasig river which back in
the 70s did not smell as bad as sin only
sweatshirts
and the sweat we soaked them in we reeled along
steamed fish heads and chopsticks for picking at them with
and bowls of rice we never really ate with spoons.
v. (back at the dinner table)
i listen to my mom and dad
sweat profusely in the evening heat only we can have here
he in his sweatshirt and she
with her golden purse,
preparing to leave - a wedding party awaits -
an jacket draped over his shirt just like grandfather used to do it
in a sense,
but gripping the chopsticks delicately for all us
to see:
“pa,”
“ma,”
v.
it is not cowboys that give us our names.
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC
The man to my right was more than eight feet away. I was going to have to move closer to him to catch my limit of four trout. I halved the distance between the two of us and noted the sideways glance he shot me. I apologized immediately and asked if I was crowding him.
“No, you fine,” he replied within a thick Serbian accent.
“You’re with them?” I asked, pointing to the crowd of people on the bridge some 30 feet upstream from us. I had heard the crowd of eastern Europeans talking earlier, and their accents were unmistakable to me. He nodded and we continued fishing.
With my new angle I was better able to pick my fish in the water, so that’s what I did. I spied one and tossed my jig toward him. It took five casts but eventually, he took the bait. As I netted it in the swift, ice-cold spring water the man beside me congratulated me on the catch. I thanked him and added it to my stringer. This made three, and I only needed one more.
“What’s your name?” I asked him.
“Ivan”.
“Have you been in the states long?” I asked, after the pause following his short reply seemed to invite more questions.
“Since ‘96, my family live here. It is good.”
“You like living here?” I wondered aloud.
“Yes, the fishing is good. It is like back home in Serbia, or in Germany. We have this fishing there.”
“You mean trout?”
“Yes, trout...and some other fish like these, in water like this, but I can’t go home now.” He looked away momentarily. His lips pursed, and his brow furrowed. I pulled my line in, wanting to ask him more and not wanting to be distracted.
“Were you in the war?”
“Yes, I was in the Serbian police force.” My heart pounded. “When I was in the Serbian police force, we did what you see on the news. We went into villages and we killed them. We killed them all.”
I cast my line back into the water, spying another trout. Ivan shrugged and cast his own line. I couldn’t tell what he was using but it looked like cheese of some kind. “I was drafted in Serb police when I was 15. I had no choice. If I refuse, they **** me. I did what I had to do.” I nodded, and ****** my line, missing a fish. “Before the war, I fished. After the war, there were not so many people, so fishing was very good.”
The air around me was alive. The trees were greener, the water was colder and clearer, the sun was brighter, and the sky was bluer.
“I’ve been fishing for a long time as well,” I responded. My father used to bring me here as a child. He nodded and continued.
“After the war, all the fish come back, no one fished during the war, so there were many of them. You just had to be careful of the mines.” He grunted and gazed skyward.
“The mines?”
“Yes, during the war they mined the water.”
I watched trout number four take my jig and I carefully reeled him in. Ivan congratulated me a second time, and I thanked him in return.
“You’re a good fisherman,” he said turning back to his own pursuit of the four-trout limit, as I left the water to clean my catch.
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 8:33 PM UTC
shirelles
monday night
alone in a big house
light the candles
another one of my rituals
born one hour,
dead the next
to make room
for other
prayers
postures
pen tips
but the way candles
flicker in the sweet
soul
is not another ritual
warm life
to the tune of golden
notes
swimming through
once bleak
once empty
once impure
air
and suddenly, I am baptized
more than I ever was
in that sterile, dead
chlorine
more than spent hymns
in drafty cathedrals
so, the sound lives.
my bed would tilt
at twelve years old
I'd wake
startled of the
psychic death
spread like bodies after
a paid for war
I'd scream like the cats
fighting by the window
at my aunts house
I would huddle with
my childhood
hiding from the puberty
that stalked me
like a jungle cat
the mind reeled with
my spent pulse and
at night
under shamed
covers
bitten fingertips
the white light
on the street
looking on
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 2:30 AM UTC
He was lonely, as was his heart, carver
Of wood, he searched upon forest &
Glade till before his eyes laid sight of a masterpiece,
Home he hurried
Carving,
Smoothing,
Varnishing
Not noticing or ignoring the black knot
But unbeknown, this was a deeper
Problem. Rotten, decayed black festered
Within not showing on the outside,
But things are missed in joy,
Things that will haunt, but he was finished
His boy of wood stood before
His so tearful eyes, your only wood
Only inanimate, sitting before my weeping eyes.
Heard where his whispers
Upon a night were they asked back,
"You are of sound heart"
"You are of compassion"
"You will have a son of wood with life in his heart"
As he looked upward,
A sight befell his reddened eyes
"FATHER"
Words fell forth unto his ears,
"Did you just speak??
"Father"
He hugged upon wood given life,
"Son"
"Son"
"A boy of my own given life"
"I love you son"
"I love you father"
His nose grew,
leaves sprouted forth,
"Aaghhhhh"
As Pinocchio snapped what grew forth,
And throw it upon the floor,
In pain he reeled,
"Son be calm"
For lies will be greeted by growth
Shall a lie be told, only good boys
And girls realise that honesty will be rewarded.
With that he cuddled his father, you know
Not love but I will show you unconditionally
Till you understand honesty also love,
Upon those words both bedded
For the night was late and father was old,
But he never slept, upon the floor
Part of him that broke off,
Now tainted black,
As it had succumb to its chosen fate,
As he fashioned upon tools
A living weapon,
"Blackest as night"
He felt connected
They were apart but one.
Into the bedroom he crept,
"Father"
"Father"
"Awaken"
Startled old eyes widen, I have a gift,
As he plunges it forth,
Son whhhhy I loveeee youuu
"I am but wooden given life"
"Blackness rots inside"
"It must feed"
For without it I will cease,
When I was just cold
It was my end no difference to any one.
And now given life
That is all that matters this night,
And with that he ****** into his
"Fathers heart"
He felt relief inside no more ties
But he cried splintered tears upon his
Blood they mixed upon the floor
He had extinguished his first life.
He needed to stem the flow as
He felt the veins rooting further
Life was his not easily given up,
The town fell silent that night,
As he fed well, he charred his
Finger tips black upon once so tanned,
So to feed with both knife and hand.
He would travel the world, death in his wake
All thought
"How unique"
"How harmless"
"How sweet"
But when the hunger craved,
Life was bled, life was ceased
All for the rot to not **** this wooden boy
"Rotten core in a boys shell"
Prey his nose does not grow just a little
Because your time in life will be up.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
Is my heart a petty thing
You are a petty crook
You steal glances at me
My heart is one of many you took
Goodnight used to have luster
When it was shared between our lips
Now you fall to her
Her seductive smile; the curve of her hips
Is my trust a petty thing
Or have I mistook
The truth we shared the lies she told
You reeled me in on a hook
Love her but remember me
One day you'll be wishing
To know where I'll be
I'm long gone on daybreak dawn
Nowhere to be seen
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
Wobbling three legged tables
where the bearded bald men are
sitting upon the legs of standing chairs
while telling local tales heard abroad
recalled from memories long forgot
Like stories from a ******** genius's journal
read in public by the town's blind doctor
clearly translated by a girl who was mute
to a man listening with old deaf ears
Or the one of the parched fisherman drowning
who was seen from a distance by a nearsighted man
that sent his lame messenger running to get help
and was reeled in by the fish he had caught on his line.
But none were as simply complicated
as the one of the bearded bald men
whose sitting stools stood tall as they sat
and whose three legged table wobbled.
May 31, 2010
May 31, 2010 at 7:00 PM UTC
One of his sick molars
was jarring, crying foul,
the root canal treatment
she did, the first, on him
made it quiet,it touched
exactly the love nerve.
Love sprouted,got rooted between
the curvy dentist and him
in exactly five sittings;
the soil was fertile.
The romantic dentist seized
his pining heart too quick,
the causes and effects of
that pain, she whispered, was similar
to what she felt , when he whimpered
leaning his head on her full *******
No reason he had, not to surmise
she didn't do everything she should,
to make his ailing tooth perfect.
Coochiecooing to her, he even
called her" the tooth fairy's baby girl"
overwhelmed she gifted him a smooch.
Each sitting fallowed
soliciting that rare,tender dental care,
on her cozy swiveling chair,
brought them closer to bouts of necking
and things more adventurous,
(may the medical ethics, pardon the pair!)
Vigorous narratives she breathlessly
reeled off, on the state of his each tooth
brought her more closer to the chair
than what professionally was expected,
her perfumed warm presence
brought aches, not necessarily dental.
A stinging pain on a root repaired
at a time his 'root canal sweet heart' was away
compels him to explore for a new chair.
The horror of horrors, it was revealed
here, a piece of broken iron implement
his sweet heart, has left within the root;
a cover up as she couldn't retrieve it
with her skills inept,
it did aggravate, caused the pain!
Isn't the betrayal of the kids,
in the name of tooth fairy,non existent
far less heinous, than a cheating like this!
could any one blame him for this,
to escape a bad tooth future, he did
the best one could; the comely tooth fairy
that found the fault and mended it
shows him his place in the
swivel chair of her heart these days!
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 9:02 AM UTC
*WHEN I first discovered the *"BEND IN THE RIVER" * , , , I had No Idea what was in store for those who BELIEVE There's a LOT more to this Flesh and Blood Body than Meets the Eye!! IT'S a Brand New World, , , That I've been instructed to "SHARE" with those who also believe *That the SPIRIT given to us,,ALLOWS "ADVENTURES" beyond explanation. "For Example"; I uncovered a Mystery that has been kept from man for Centuries!! "Such As Follows". Am I a fool to fish with an Unbaited hook?? Even though I did Caste it out "Very Far". Will the FLASHING of it being Retrieved ever so FAST, be enough to Attract the Hungriest of Those Looking for a New treat? What,Oh What could be a "BETTER BAIT" than that which I reeled in at a "Break-Neck" speed?? Was there No Deliciousness coming Off that Rapid return? PERHAPS,,a Tasty Morsel, a Yummy TidBit be attached to the very Tip.. AND * YES Put below a Cork about 30"ABOVE!! YES,,Gently,, Persuasively,, Moving in the Smooth currents of "LIFE"!!! Is this "BETTER BAIT" always available? * I BETTER "RUSH" TO FIND OUT!! "Are YOU with me??"
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 3:38 AM UTC
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismayed?
Not tho' the soldiers knew
Someone had blundered:
Theirs was not to make reply,
Theirs was not to reason why,
Theirs was but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to the right of them,
Cannon to the left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volleyed and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell,
Rode the six hundred.
Flashed all their sabres bare,
Flashed as they turned in air,
Sab'ring the gunners there,
Charging and army, while
All the world wondered:
Plunging in the battery smoke,
Right through the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reeled from the sabre-stroke
Shattered and sundered.
Then they rode back, but not--
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to the right of them,
Cannon to the left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that fought so well,
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of the six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
Oh, the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble Six Hundred!
2.5k
I want to fall in love with you today tonight and tomorrow
I want to shy away from your touch only to bring you back home with me
I want to lay down by your side late evening on the livingroom carpet
And tell you all the ways in which you are beautiful, you are beautiful, you are
I want to eat dinner with you and breakfast, too
I want to connect with your mind, your words and your skin
I want you to look at me like it's the first time
I want to love you enough without pushing you away
It seems your absence draws me nearer
I want our love to live in videotape
Our memories reeled in red, blue, green
Red, blue, green
I want to be the great strange dream
That you are much too fond of for letting go
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 8:08 PM UTC
I cast my line and reel in my bait
I cast my line and it's a snake
I cast my line, a reprobate
How much longer till I break
Patience is not a lesson I care for
I like waiting even less
I say, "that's enough", You say, "there is more"
- I'm breaking, I must confess
Vice on my heart, squeezing out tears
Thoughts are swirling all of my fears
Ripples in the pond spread out from my float
All goes still, there is a lump in my throat
Chin in my hand
Slumped and alone
My pole, unmanned
Heart's monotoned
I have cast in shallow waters
And reeled in dregs
Wandered forbidden corridors
And near lost legs
How much longer must I wander?
I trust You not to tip my boat
Believe You've brought me where I float
You've kept my rod from breaking
But not my hands from aching
It's the catch that I doubt
It's all one endless bout
I'm trying to practice trust
Though my heart's dusted with crust
Fishing, endless fishin'
Waiting on fruition
Fishing, oh, endless fishin'
Perhaps I'll reposition
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 9:53 PM UTC
her hair shines like the sea glimmering in the sun
flawless, radiant skin with a beaming smile
her eyes are like a trap, once you're reeled in all you can do is stare in awe
how i wish i could be her
boys treat her with respect, that's for sure
effortlessly gorgeous they say, even when she wakes up in the morning
she's the girl who everyone stops to stare at
how i wish i could be her
i see the way they talk about her
the respect and humility they have whenever they're in her presence
especially the way he looks at her, for some reason i envy
how i wish i could be her
she calls herself ugly
but i never will understand why
she's perfect in every way
oh how i wish i could be her
Apr 28, 2021
Apr 28, 2021 at 11:14 PM UTC
Humming a soft tune
came down the wind
With airy fingers,
it tousled my hair
Rubbing its cold cheeks
on mine, tickling me,
it reeled round
tugging at my skirt
like a naughty kid
and amorously lifting it up
like a lover
Like soft tendrils
it coiled all around me
inviting me for a waltz
Between hushed breaths
and murmured tones
it talked to me endless
whispering sweet nothings
in my attentive ear
I felt love pouring down on me
I wished to cage it
to enjoy its sweet company
But like an apparition,
it disappeared into thin air!
I couldn’t follow its trail
but as it passed, I saw
a tumbleweed tremble
far above the ground!
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 6:11 AM UTC
You found me
Heart of abuse turned peaceful
Eyes of disgust enlightened
You winged me into security,
then played off my vulnerability like a scavenger
Peeling my walls down like flesh from a carcass
You reeled me in like the catch of the day
hook attached, you left me dangling with the hope of repair
As you caught a one way to California
The days that followed brought your beasts with them
Gloomy deceitful minions of broken trust
Your "love" had evaporated just as quick as the oregon wind blows
Making me regret every ounce of compassion I'd given you
despising the sincerity I had offered
Regurgitating every lie you'd bestowed upon me
However, with every passing day my memory of you fades
No longer do I cry over your cowardly decisions
There is no hate or grudge held within my soul
Soon enough I realised I'd never loved you
I was faking contempt with every kiss, every hug, every word
& my heart secretly craved your absence
months have passed without heartache
I've doused my wounds in gasoline and set your memory ablaze
regained that fire in my eyes that you once so carelessly saturated with tears
There are many that patiently waited for my return
Finally my golden emeralds are cleaned of deceit and deception
I'm done searching, waiting, and hoping for my happily ever after
I am my happy ending
I'm the best architect and gardener I know
Continuously rebuilding myself after demolition
& Replanting my roots to fit my desires
Repairing cracks, sowing holes, stemming leaves from ashes
I've been reborn.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
ROBBED BY TIME
Once upon a time,
A friend in need at all times,
Time was such my best friend
And so we hopped till the end.
To my castle he'd come,
For he was always welcome
Any time he ever wanted to,
Something my queen loved too.
We'd ramble woodland paths together
As he reeled off one story after another,
All day long having a good time
Till when castle bells could chime.
Time was not of this world,
But a great war lord
Of a very far away land,
King unto the realm of fairy land.
He who had a novelty crown
Bestowed upon him by a fairy clown,
A crown not of gold but of palest silver,
A precious gem from the fairyland silva.
With lurve in the air one morning,
My friendship with Time died aborning
When he chose to do something frivolous
Just when the Sun's rays were so glorious.
Time emblazed my heart,
Something that didst hurt
When he smiled unto my wife,
Such a great shock unto my life.
He gravitated towards her after a deep sigh,
Like a whirlwind, my mind whirled high.
He thus gallantly asked her for a dance,
And was granted a golden chance.
Keenly I watched this flint-hearted boy,
Thought him skint but feared not nor coy.
With alacrity and in broad day light
Together they cwtched in delight.
He whom I always enjoyed with the wine,
There enjoying with a queen of mine
Whilst committing mischief;
This friend of mine such a thief.
Time whispered thus into my Queen's ear,
Whispers I could hardly hear:
Alas! He promised her the moon
For they'd eloped by noon,
To places strange I might never have a clue,
To where mortals have never dared walk to,
All the way to the realm of fairy land,
Such, such a very far away land.
©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros
10th Aug 2016.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 9:09 PM UTC
We have fallen in the dreams the ever-living
Breathe on the tarnished mirror of the world,
And then smooth out with ivory hands and sigh.
W.B. YEATS
* * * * * *
My soul looked down from a vague height, with Death,
As unremembering how I rose or why,
And saw a sad land, weak with sweats of dearth,
Gray, cratered like the moon with hollow woe,
And pitted with great pocks and scabs of plagues.
Across its beard, that horror of harsh wire,
There moved thin caterpillars, slowly uncoiled.
It seemed they pushed themselves to be as plugs
Of ditches, where they writhed and shrivelled, killed.
By them had slimy paths been trailed and scraped
Round myriad warts that might be little hills.
From gloom's last dregs these long-strung creatures crept,
And vanished out of dawn down hidden holes.
(And smell came up from those foul openings
As out of mouths, or deep wounds deepening.)
On dithering feet upgathered, more and more,
Brown strings, towards strings of gray, with bristling spines,
All migrants from green fields, intent on mire.
Those that were gray, of more abundant spawns,
Ramped on the rest and ate them and were eaten.
I saw their bitten backs curve, loop and straighten.
I watched those agonies curl, lift, and flatten.
Whereat, in terror what that sight might mean,
I reeled and shivered earthward like a feather.
And Death fell with me, like a deepening moan.
And He, picking a manner of worm, which half had hid
Its bruises in the earth, bur crawled no further,
Showed me its feet, the feet of many men,
And the fresh-severed head of it, my head
2.1k
dismay is felt when opening the newspaper
to read Athena's astral charts
on many occasions her predictions are well out
which tend to make the readers doubt
to-day she stated that all Geminis
were in for an adventure
but she failed to also mention
the possibility of a misadventure
Taurus individuals supposedly
are going to win a truck load of cash
they'll be disappointed
should they not collect a stash
she said all Virgos
would be bidding their time
but how would she know
as few of them can march to a rhyme
this pronouncement she had written large
which told of a Capricorn who'd fly to Mars
yet this person hasn't got a rocket
which can propel him to Mars
here was one that reeled me in
she spoke of a Pisces eating a dog
her info was well out of kilter
we all know that all fishes prefer a frog
Athena was glowing in her outlook
for those Cancer folk saying they'd find a bloke
though none of them are in the market
for finding a bloke
she put in a good line for Scorpios
to be careful whilst using the hose
as they might get the nozzle
stuck to their nose
Libras were given an Athena heads up
not to take their dreams too far
why would she say that
when we all know that a Libra dreamer always makes par
she stated that Sagittarius ladies
needed to buy a spring party dress
though they've all got wardrobes
full of lovely floral brightness
what do you think of her
Leo chart for November and December
during these months
will they have a holiday to remember
she made mention of Aquarius souls
by way of Rock and Roll
few of those sixties baby bombers
have the legs to now Rock and Roll
finally her is what she telegraphed
for our Aries cousins in Perth
they'd all be reborn on planet Earth
yet none are seeking a rebirth
Athena's predictive Astrology page
is one we'll all need to thoroughly gauge
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
one thousand shards, my crown was built.
not of thorns.
but bubblegum legos, saturday morning stuck
to the carpet
& days gone by.
crept out of fold and gut/ kid living
& watched by trees.
autumn watches us fall like leaves,
born of the belly and the mother.
mom quiet/
dad loud/
men hid behind blisters and god.
men hid behind tall towers and the bomb.
men bled for immortality,
warred and ****** resource for more, the door
to an endless life.
dad taught me how the heart and brain behold blood,
& how the body manifests it/
moves it/
follows the sun.
son follows father follows god follows ghoul.
dad taught me about the machete.
about how “our fates will dominate us blind.
so man dominates the jungle.”
he told me a story of love and more glory.
of poor men and dead men.
machete theories.
he carved wooden chairs.
built a lodge.
fished the river,
& reeled to forget the war.
harpoon the river gods.
the heart and brain behold blood,
& the body manifests it.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
The ghost of Christmas past dropped in
You see. he was completely out of wine
He had two stops to make by three
so, he borrowed some of mine
He asked me how i was getting on
since, he came around that night
with Jacob and the other two
and took me on that flight
i told him i was doing well
but, i thought he had to know
i was succeptible to pnuemonia now
since they dragged me through the snow
it's just the nature of the beast
that you may get a cold
the younger ones, not quite so much
it's just that you were old
i asked him where he had to go
and who he had to see
he told me , Ebby you know the rules
but, i can give you guesses...three
the first place that i'm off to now
is really not that far
this one, used to be a beatle
peace and love is for this starr
i was surprised that it was Ringo
he said, he had to be reeled in
his ego grew a little bit
and to his boss that was a sin
The second place he had to go
he needed wine for the bar
because he was going out to celebrate
and he brought a good cigar
He said this one, he's off his head
He's gone back fifty years
There's a lot of things he needs to see
So, with your wine, I'll need some beers
If everything goes as we hope
And he can make amends
He plans on calling Cuba
And saying...it's time that we were friends
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC