Dylan Thomas, drunk-*** poet,
uncorked nouns, imbibed the verb
downed six pints and thought about it
sitting unsteadily on the curb:

“Winds of word unleashed in drink
will fill to the full my poem’s sails…
though it may totter on the brink,
my drunken boat defies the gales.”

Floating on wreckage to distant shores,
our ***** bard beheld the deep
where whales spout forth their lyric stores
while the inebriate muses weep.

This postwar lush and lyrical fad,
was the biggest pint in the bar called Wales.
While not the worst, his verse was bad…
(but better after seven ales).

[[[poem based on some of my virtual friends' wall posts and statuses from pages that I follow. Randomised. Mixed.]]]



The year was Poptastic!
And Rolling Stone crowned Bob Dylan the greatest songwriter of all time.
It’s alright, Ma (I’m only scrolling)
I get so awkward when I eat in front of people
But I have no problem understanding why an intern would live in a tent.
Sarajevo here I come!

A series of explosions killed at least 50 people and left 700 injured.
Do you ever miss yourself?
The person you were before you had your first heartbreak or before you got betrayed by a person you trusted?
It’s amazing to finally feel right. The real blue's inside
This thought is from last year... but still relevant.

Your Life Will Be ****** into an Awful Black Hole
But you still have a beautiful night to spend with friends;
Great night! Emily we will miss you!
“The moment was all; the moment was enough.” V.W

You know? It's a terrible waste of your life, making movies –
Maybe you should reconsider time.
Want to book Pharrell? You'll need a picture of Carl Sagan. Really!
Photos on memory cards can survive more than you may think.
If you could choose what your life would be like, what would you pick?
Did you ever consider failure as an option?
Take a look inside this thought: Inge Morath, "Gypsies dancing in a camp near Catesiphon", Iraq, 1956, black and white blue eyes.
These kids were playing in the dust and mud because the schools were too far away.
So with nothing but his own time, this store manager decided to be their school.

How quantum computing works — and why it could change everything:
Things just don't grow if you don't bless them with your patience.


5 minutes of inspiration: This is how a living legend thinks about photographing the world.
As we expect more from technology, do we expect less from each other?
I just can’t be away from her, she’s the finest woman in the world

Keep on playing those mind games forever, raising the spirit of peace and love, not war,  (I want you to make love, not war, I know you've heard it before)...
Solid proof that having kids is frankly terrifying.
You should remember this:
No matter how complex, no matter how unique, your passwords can no longer protect you!


I would say all the allegations aren't true — some of them are.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aEEQWPfjv1U

Strength is written in scars on his body
It's evidence shows on his face
though life tried to steal from you beauty
and you came close to having to taste
Death
Life is something you conquered
and your legs now are thick for the race
Those that you've helped number many
and your currency is the Lord's grace

I keep hearing the voices
the magical mystery voices
singing for joy and for sadness
of Dai Bread's three in a bed
of Rosie Probert , Duck Lane - dead
of Miss Myfanwys washing line
of those alive and those dead
who visit privately instead.

Saw Robert Zimmerman again
After way too many years
Now I can’t stop my brain from singin’ .
I’ve always loved his poems -
The way he bends his words
Into pictures I can see out loud,
Illustrations of America, though blurred.

Forgive me Mr. Zimmerman
If I used your real name
I’m not tryin’ to steal your songs from you
And I wouldn’t want your fame
I could never be your equal
Wouldn’t even want to try
Forgive me Mr. Dylan
Cross my heart and hope to die.

On the Day the Music died,
I had just about turned five,
Five more years slid past me
The Beatles sang on TV - live.  
Rock and Roll was pushing all the Folks
To center stage,
Viet Nam and Woodstock
Were currently the rage.

Somewhere we got sidetracked
The Disco Ball was turnin’
I put on a cowboy hat,
Johnny sang a song ‘bout burnin’.
I’ve been blowin’ in the wind
For over sixty years;
Now I’m tryin’ to write some poems, ‘bout my life,
And it appears,
That all my poems sound like songs
I’ve heard throughout the years.
---PwL  5/24/15

Saw Robert Zimmerman Again
After way too many years Now
Can’t stop my brain from singin’ But
It’s not what it appears See
I’ve always loved his poems And
The way he bends his words Into
Pictures I can see out loud, Illustrations
That I’ve heard.

Forgive me Mr. Zimmerman
If I besmirch your name
I’m not tryin’ to steal your songs from you
And I wouldn’t want your fame
I could never be your equal
Wouldn’t even want to try
Forgive me Mr. Zimmerman
Cross my heart and hope to die.

On the Day the Music died, Guess
That I had just turned five, Then
Five more years slid past me When
The Beatles sang on TV - LIVE.  And
Rock and Roll was pushing all the Folks
To center stage, Seems
Viet Nam and Woodstock Were
Currently the rage.

Somewhere we got sidetracked While
The Disco Ball was turnin’  But
I put on a Cowboy Hat, Helped
Johnny sing ‘bout burnin’.  So I
Been blowin’ in the wind for Over
Sixty years; Now I’m Tryin’
To write some Poems, ‘Bout my Life and
It appears  That my poems Sound
Like all the songs I’ve heard throughout
The Years.

Come and Listen to a Story
‘Bout a guy named Phil
Tried to grab some Glory
But I guess he never will.
For as he fired up his pencil
Over hot and blazing coals
Granny loaded up her shotgun
Shot his poems full of holes.
Good shot, Granny.  Right in the heart.  Make it Bleed girl.
Y’all Come Back Now, Y’Hear?
PwL  5/5/15

Love Minus Zero / No Limit**

My love, she speaks like silence
Without ideals or violence
She doesn't have to say she's faithful
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire

People carry roses
And make promises by the hours
My love, she laughs like the flowers
Valentines can't buy her

In the dime stores and bus stations
People talk of situations
Read books, repeat quotations
Draw conclusions on the wall

Some speak of the future
My love, she speaks softly
She knows there's no success like failure
And that failure's no success at all

The cloak and dagger dangles
Madams light the candles
In ceremonies of the horsemen
Even the pawn must hold a grudge

Statues made of match sticks
Crumble into one another
My love winks, she does not bother
She knows too much to argue or to judge

The bridge at midnight trembles
The country doctor rambles
Bankers' nieces seek perfection
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring

The wind howls like a hammer
The night blows rainy
My love, she's like some raven
At my window with a broken wing

Old gentle vague dark sea
stars uncoffined above
my drummer grave
blind of age,
meet Mr. Numb Feelgood
he is dying - chasing smoke,  
following a blind parade
wanderin’ anywhere forked like Yes
at every dusty, homely, strange-eyed landmark
until driven deep down dead

Dear old diamonds,
my sleepy southern song spell fades ,
my past was a young clown
dancing, swingin' my magic heels
raging and cursing death’s grip on time

Now, I feel that morning’s fierce burn
vanishing into a tambourine memory
and I’m caught madly dreaming
against the ragged anywhere
to return green tomorrow

“The times they are a-changing”
Guess I’m growin’ older fast
Had a **** good time one summer,
But summers never last.

“Ah, but I was so much older then”
Rip van Winkle shared his drink with me
Woke up; thought we were younger
But the village disagreed.

“Like a rolling stone”
I never stayed on the top of any hill
Got no regrets to mention
But I prob’ly sometime will.

“Blowin’ in the wind”
Seeds from a weeping willow tree
Never knowin’ where they might end up
But it’s the same **** thing with me.

“All I really want to do”
Before I end up in the dirt
Is beg everyone’s forgiveness
But there’s too many I hurt.

“A hard rain’s a-gonna fall”
For now it’s beatin’ on my head
Soon it’ll pound down on my grave
But by that time I’ll be dead.

“Long and wasted years”
Came along and passed me by
Yeah I kinda miss the summer
But I ain’t had time to cry.

“I wear dark glasses to cover my eyes”
Can’t believe the things I’ve seen
Still, I’d pretend that I was younger
But Dylan’s on AARP magazine.
PwL 3/31/15

0303
9802
2004