Poetry Jam

[JTrainDavis]

For my favorite Captain

Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers' Green.
Marching past, straight through to Hell
The Infantry are seen.
Accompanied by the Engineers,
Artillery and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddlers' Green.
Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene.
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he's emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers' Green.
And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers' Green.

 

[CountVolcula]

Let Bacchus' sons be not dismayed
But join with me, each jovial blade
Come, drink and sing and lend your aid
To help me with the chorus:

Instead of spa, we'll drink brown ale
And pay the reckoning on the nail;
No man for debt shall go to jail
From Garryowen in glory.

We'll beat the bailiffs out of fun,
We'll make the mayor and sheriffs run
We are the boys no man dares dun
If he regards a whole skin.

Instead of spa, we'll drink brown ale
And pay the reckoning on the nail;
No man for debt shall go to jail
From Garryowen in glory.


Our hearts so stout have got no fame
For soon 'tis known from whence we came
Where'er we go they fear the name
Of Garryowen in glory.

Instead of spa, we'll drink brown ale
And pay the reckoning on the nail;
No man for debt shall go to jail
From Garryowen in glory.

 

[JTrainDavis]

let bacchus' sons be not dismayed
but join with me, each jovial blade
come, drink and sing and lend your aid
to help me with the chorus:

Instead of spa, we'll drink brown ale
and pay the reckoning on the nail;
no man for debt shall go to jail
from garryowen in glory.

We'll beat the bailiffs out of fun,
we'll make the mayor and sheriffs run
we are the boys no man dares dun
if he regards a whole skin.

Instead of spa, we'll drink brown ale
and pay the reckoning on the nail;
no man for debt shall go to jail
from garryowen in glory.


Our hearts so stout have got no fame
for soon 'tis known from whence we came
where'er we go they fear the name
of garryowen in glory.

Instead of spa, we'll drink brown ale
and pay the reckoning on the nail;
no man for debt shall go to jail
from garryowen in glory.

the seventh first!!

 

[volinbham]

Since I put some Bukowski in here's him reading one - comes after the interview. A real message of hope

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHRcKjvX1xE[/youtube]

 

[Vjcvette]

The Shirt in my closet
A shirt still hangs in my closet
Even though it is not one I wear

I guess some how its a comfort
Just knowing its hanging there

Some jeans folded neatly on the shelf
never to be worn again

Just a small reminder
Of things that could have been

I guess we keep things sometimes
We know will never fit

But a woman has hopes and dreams
that are sometimes hard to quit

So for now the shirt and jeans will stay there
even though they do not fit

-Vickie Jo-

 

[pismonque]

helluva bump job
was pismonque’s wry response
in haiku of course

 

[1SmokinVol]

BLAZE FOLEY:

I'm goin' down to the Greyhound station
Gonna get a ticket to ride
Gonna find that lady with two or three kids
And sit down by her side

Ride 'til the sun comes up and down around me
'Bout two or three times
Smokin' cigarettes in the last seat
Tryin' to hide my sorrow from the people I meet
And get along with it all

Go down where the people say "Y'all"
Sing a song with a friend
Change the shape that I'm in
And get back in the game, start playin' again

I'd like to stay
But I might have to go to start over again
Might go back down to Texas
Might go to somewhere that I've never been

And get up in the mornin' and go out at night
And I won't have to go home
Get used to bein' alone
Change the words to this song, start singin' again

I'm tired of runnin' 'round lookin'
For answers to questions that I already know
I could build me a castle of memories
Just to have somewhere to go

Count the days and the nights that it takes
To get back in the saddle again
Feed the pigeons some clay, turn the night into day
Start talkin' again, when I know what to say