Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
🙂
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Cool times, remember when I looked like Fabio...?
Ha ha.
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
W-Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Quite cool.....
General-Zod wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Quite cool.....
Thanks again for reading and commenting, Zod.
🙂
Will Dockery wrote:
General-Zod wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Quite cool.....
Thanks again for reading and commenting, Zod.
🙂
Good afternoon, enjoying this fine day on the river bank with my friend Mike... he says tell you hello..!
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Actually, an all-time favorite...!
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Cool times, remember when I looked like Fabio...?
Ha ha.
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
🙂
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
🙂
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Cool times, remember when I looked like Fabio...?
Ha ha.
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
General-Zod wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Thanks again for reading and commenting.
Will Dockery wrote:
General-Zod wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Thanks again for reading and commenting.
Good day to you...!
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Cool times, remember when I looked like Fabio...?
Ha ha.
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Cool times, remember when I looked like Fabio...?
Ha ha.
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
🙂
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Cool times, remember when I looked like Fabio...?
Ha ha.
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Cool times
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
🙂
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
🙂
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
General-Zod wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
🙂Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Good evening, thanks again.
On Monday, August 22, 2022 at 12:52:30 AM UTC-4, opb...@yahoo.com wrote:
General-Zod wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Good evening, thanks again.
REPORTED TO THE INTERNET POLICE AS SPAM
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
🙂
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
Thanks to Jim Senetto for reading and commenting.
🙂
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
Thanks to Jim Senetto for reading and commenting.
🙂
He did...???
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
You captured the moment well...
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Cool times, remember when I looked like Fabio...?
Ha ha.
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
🙂
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
🙂
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Second read... quite lovely...
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Up to read seven or eight, still finding wonders in this one....
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
🙂
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
One of the great ones....
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tomorrow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
General-Zod wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Good afternoon, thanks again for reading and commenting.THE BEST PLACE TO BUY FIREARMS
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
🙂
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest.
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
One of the poems in the Saint Augustine Blues series.
As always, comments and critique are welcome.
Outstanding poetry, Doc....
Will Dockery wrote:
General-Zod wrote:
Will Dockery wrote:
Behind The Forest
Under the tent
can't describe this light.
Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.
Working to purity
music and words and sweat.
No tears.
Forget tommorow.
Let go the problems in time.
Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.
Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.
Catch the flow
it may never be back again, though possible.
Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.
Termite stars shine on the oldest city.
The facist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.
Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.
Sweat, blue meets red.
Let it drop for peace of mind.
Fingerpicking violinist weaves notes
through the breeze...
words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.
-Will Dockery
----------------------------------------------
I remember the night I wrote this poem like it was yesterday, although I don't think I could ever find my way back to the unique coffee shop that the poem describes, a place called The Forest... Summer 1997.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CdzpTcRMgWF/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
Cool times, remember when I looked like Fabio...?
Ha ha.
I do.
Ha ha... long time, many moons ago... ha ha.
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