Of Beer and Beethoven
Of beer and Beethoven I know not
since my lot is that of a fair maiden
country lass, with lots o sass
with golden locks, simple frocks
for tending flocks of butterflies
and cattails wild, and pollywogs
with half a tail....
And trains running on skinny rails
wails of wolves in the glens
and brown and white and speckled hens
of crying out for fear of wrens
brightly spangled fighting hens
and screams making the blood
run cold from down the hollow
blowing heat and sweat ... in saunas old
covered with mould
And where is your loyality
you may ask...
It's freedom, it's mine
no renegade I...
nor gaunt, nor dead
nor spit in the eye
Like silent partners
roaming in fields
of clover these poets
hover over this place known
I am the poet whose voice
doth sing and fly with dragons in the sky
Stand me near the perpheral rim
and I will fly with him....
sprinkle diamonds in the night
hold him dear in our flight, or yes
hold him dear in our flight
bentfeather
a/k/a MHL
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All Rights Reserved
