Furst night in Brockton
new guy in town
Again
lost in a sea
of Nauthinaz
I'll get my bearings
I'm an Ex-Sailor
used to course less
wanderings
no boundaries have i
aimless
no to john barleycorn
born to nowhere
drawn to the sea
Thinking of my youth
when we rode around
in a light green VW beetle
Listening to Stevie Winwood
and the boys sing John Barleycorn
Soon enough my friends scattered
Some gone down South
Some out to L.A.
Some upstate
No more basketball
No more all night parties
like the one we had when
the Fillmore East closed
Winter has morphed into spring
Soon hot summer
bringing Coney Island nights
and Riis Park beach days
Now I live on the Lower East Side
New friends, maybe new lovers
in the offing
Fall will soon arrive with the High Holidays
I'm still here!
They buried him two inches deep
and for months there wasn't peep
And then with barely a sound
he forced his head out of the ground
For months he grew tall and grew straight
until it was time for his fate
In his prime he was cut to the ground
and then with his comrades was bound
They beat him with flails and with whips
until, in his skin, appeared rips
Then they laid him down on the floor
and over him, water, did pour
They boiled all his juices away
and left him alone for a day
Then they sealed him away in a vat
until he grew cold and quite flat
Next they poured what was left in a keg
with the essence of white of an egg
They then left him once more for a while
and moved him for many a mile
In a dungeon so dark and so cold
with walls that were covered with mould
they left him a day and a night
until his condition was right
Then they pulled him out into the light
and he looked such a beautiful sight
As brown as the robe of a monk
John Barleycorn finally got drunk
Carrie Nation was renown for her scorn
For the havoc caused by john barleycorn
She wielded her axe causing dire consternation
Wrecking bars with what she termed a "hatchitation"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
September noon was hot
I sat alone in a crowd
My counterfeit leather boots were cheap vinyl,
Like traces of gas in a puddle,
They shone an iridescent rainbow
I wanted faded “501’S” but wore
“Monkey Wards” counterfeit denim
My skin no longer fits; I was alone in a crowd
The bleachers flanking the Hollywood High Sheiks
were unfriendly that hot September lunchtime
Not only did my skin not fit
it crawled with self-disgust
Eric wore long hair and a tie-dye tee shirt
His answer was correct…he knew…I followed him to the palace
The walls were decorated in 70’s black light contemporary
Quadraphonic stereo held the 8 Track Tape,
As the Juke holds licorice pizza
Dark Side of the Moon was the wedding song
Mary Jane became my wife, John Barleycorn my best man
I settled into the warmth of the altar, my skin fits better
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