Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix, SaINT Patrick-s Regret.
*no punctuation, laptop, fricked UP....
St. Patricks Regret.
Regrets, I-ve had my share, a SOLO song, nothing to do with YOU... REGRETS, an echo chamber and ALL the Whisked Angel choir cant make me less blue.
Regrets, I-ve had my Sad Ass Gig, my share. The last refuge of a Scoundrel or a Zealous Patriot, usually, Unfound, disfigured by Time, an Icon for the impressionable...
Regrets, NO heroes, no Cowards, NO bureaucrats of Social insidiousness where Governments breed like Lice and, GODS KISS, given too....And OR dissolve into your Personal Blues...
Regrets, NO need to THINK, illumination, that yesterday Epiphany, comes when you DRINK...and maybe, sunrise, the getting of wisdom.
Regrets, ain't worth a SONG but just this one time> HA/HA said the Clown! I-ll sing along...
Regrets, I-ve had an UN PUNCTUATED few. A Solo. Its OK. And NOTHING to do with YOU.
Regrets, that I drove all the snakes out of Ireland but not the Viper in Man-s Souls.
Regrets, I-ve had my share, a Solo Song. As a man born of Britain in the later Roman Empire.... Songs I learnt from my Pirate Mediterranean Kidnappers. Then, the folks with whom I was marooned...on a splendid Emerald Isle.
c2018, davedelacroix, Sciacca, sicily.
No comments:
Post a Comment