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"sheehan" poems
*We lose so much talent to addiction Some of you may not care, but I do This is my tribute to them* **Alan Wilson Canned Heat Jimi Hendrix The Jimi Hendrix Experience Janis Joplin Jim Morrison The Doors Brian Cole The Association Billy Murcia New York Dolls Danny Whitten Crazy Horse Gram Parsons The Stooges Gary Thain Uriah Heep Elvis Presley Gregory Herbert Blood, Sweat & Tears Keith Moon The Who Sid Vicious *** Pistols Lowell George Little Feat Jimmy McCulloch Wings John Bonham Led Zeppelin Darby Crash Germs James Honeyman-Scott Pretenders Pete Farndon Pretenders Paul Gardiner Tubeway Army Gary Holton Heavy Metal Kids Phil Lynott Thin Lizzy Andrew Wood Mother Love Bone Brent Mydland Grateful Dead Steve Clark Def Leppard Johnny Thunders New York Dolls David Ruffin The Temptations Kristen Pfaff Hole Shannon Hoon Blind Melon Bradley Nowell Sublime John Kahn Jerry Garcia Band Jonathan Melvoin The Smashing Pumpkins Billy Mackenzie Associates West Arkeen The Outpatience Nick Traina Link 80 John Baker Saunders Mad Season Bobby Sheehan Blues Traveler Wes Berggren Tripping Daisy Allen Woody The Allman Brothers Band Carl Crack Atari Teenage Riot Layne Staley Alice in Chains/Mad Seasons Kurt Cobain Nirvana Dee Dee Ramones Robbin Crosby Ratt John Entwistle The Who Howie Epstein Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers Jeremy Michael Ward De Facto Tim Hemensley GOD Dave Schulthise The Dead Milkmen Rick James Kevin DuBrow Quiet Riot Ike Turner Gidget Gein Marilyn Manson Jay Bennett Wilco Michael Jackson The Rev Avenged Sevenfold Paul Gray Slipknot Mike Starr Alice in Chains Amy Winehouse** *We are not bad people, we just have bad ways Yet, not many understand*
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Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
kidcalvoaolcom
Forgotten and Appriciated
*We lose so much talent to addiction Some of you may not care, but I do This is my tribute to them* **Alan Wilson Canned Heat Jimi Hendrix The Jimi Hendrix Experience Janis Joplin Jim Morrison The Doors Brian Cole The Association Billy Murcia New York Dolls Danny Whitten Crazy Horse Gram Parsons The Stooges Gary Thain Uriah Heep Elvis Presley Gregory Herbert Blood, Sweat & Tears Keith Moon The Who Sid Vicious *** Pistols Lowell George Little Feat Jimmy McCulloch Wings John Bonham Led Zeppelin Darby Crash Germs James Honeyman-Scott Pretenders Pete Farndon Pretenders Paul Gardiner Tubeway Army Gary Holton Heavy Metal Kids Phil Lynott Thin Lizzy Andrew Wood Mother Love Bone Brent Mydland Grateful Dead Steve Clark Def Leppard Johnny Thunders New York Dolls David Ruffin The Temptations Kristen Pfaff Hole Shannon Hoon Blind Melon Bradley Nowell Sublime John Kahn Jerry Garcia Band Jonathan Melvoin The Smashing Pumpkins Billy Mackenzie Associates West Arkeen The Outpatience Nick Traina Link 80 John Baker Saunders Mad Season Bobby Sheehan Blues Traveler Wes Berggren Tripping Daisy Allen Woody The Allman Brothers Band Carl Crack Atari Teenage Riot Layne Staley Alice in Chains/Mad Seasons Kurt Cobain Nirvana Dee Dee Ramones Robbin Crosby Ratt John Entwistle The Who Howie Epstein Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers Jeremy Michael Ward De Facto Tim Hemensley GOD Dave Schulthise The Dead Milkmen Rick James Kevin DuBrow Quiet Riot Ike Turner Gidget Gein Marilyn Manson Jay Bennett Wilco Michael Jackson The Rev Avenged Sevenfold Paul Gray Slipknot Mike Starr Alice in Chains Amy Winehouse** *We are not bad people, we just have bad ways Yet, not many understand*
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In an Irish pub last night I met a man, Ryan Patrick Sheehan. His eyes were brown, his lips were soft, his heart was heavy with reason. To me, he quoted an early Yeats as if he were Yeats himself. "The Cold Heaven" danced from his tongue to rest on my heart's bookshelf. He spoke of Goethe and Marcel Proust; two hundred pages that described Combrayan eye for detail that bordered insane. he proceeded then to quote Swann's Way. Of mystery and shadows his silence spoke. His words, like kisses quite unplanned. God speed and hope be in your heart My brief, Ryan Patrick Sheehan.
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Jul 11, 2011
Jul 11, 2011 at 4:56 PM UTC
deborah-drinon-haggerty
An Irish Kiss
In an Irish pub last night I met a man, Ryan Patrick Sheehan. His eyes were brown, his lips were soft, his heart was heavy with reason. To me, he quoted an early Yeats as if he were Yeats himself. "The Cold Heaven" danced from his tongue to rest on my heart's bookshelf. He spoke of Goethe and Marcel Proust; two hundred pages that described Combrayan eye for detail that bordered insane. he proceeded then to quote Swann's Way. Of mystery and shadows his silence spoke. His words, like kisses quite unplanned. God speed and hope be in your heart My brief, Ryan Patrick Sheehan.
Continue reading...
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