The daily round of common task, the common growth of Mother Earth, suffices me.

California. Ilfracombe -

Right back where I started Frome.

It all now seems so long ago -

My daddy was a stripper with a medicine show,

My momma was a drummer with the band.

 

If all the world was paper,

And all the seas were ink,

And all my fleas had foul disease -

What would the neighbours think?

 

ЯR

A PHILOSPHICAL POEM

Gin

Helps

AGE AND REGRET

As I get older, I look back on my earlier poems, and regret that I no longer have the creativity to write so well. But then I regret so many things, chief of which is regret.

They left his brain lying bleeding in the dust

And silently rode away

WHY? 

Why do we bother?

Why do we try?

Why do we live?

Why do we die?