Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Last Poem, I Promise

Do you recall
A guitarist,
–Garcia–
He had a big beard,
And he played far too loud?

Garcia?

I think so,
Tho I’ve heard
Mendoza.
The records were lost
When we moved to the moon.

Guitarist?
So, rock?

Well, more of
A choogle
Or  lope,
Limping skip,
Or a bomb-dee-bomp pace.

And he had
A band.
With a name like
Led Zeppelin.
The Somethings or Bigfoot:
Some dumb shit like that.

Earthborn?

Of course.

That’s a long time ago.

When the skies were not scorched,
And the rivers could flow.

Here is your problem:
You live in the past.
When there was a future,
And things built to last.
Where villains got punished,
And justice prevailed.
And poems ended nicely,
But they just don’t fucking do that anymore, do they?

I still recall
A guitarist,
–Garcia–
He had a big beard,
And he played far too loud.

1 Comment

  1. Luther Von Baconson

    August 10, 2016 at 3:25 am

    “Andy?”

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