The RMS Queen Mary.
Was a ship, and not a ferry.
Out at sea, from dawn till dusk.
The White Star Liner.
Would never rust.
It would sail by day,
and then by night.
With eighty one thousand tons and power.
You could sail the ocean blue.
Every minute of the day,
or every minute of the hour.
Named after Mary of Teck.
The wife of a King.
Legend has it..
She was a clean machine.
Three large turrets.
The size of a mountain.
Steam rolled out.
Like a smoke stack poutin'.
Finally, the Queen.
She had to retire.
Long Beach it was.
California for hire!
Ship-Poetry By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2009,2014..
All rights reserved..
Dreamer
You've been minus-molded
by big parent media village.
Taught to worship idol's of human teck.
Forgetting who we really are, daily.
Flawed, because they are flawed.
Religious syndron's excepting depressant eyes.
Some rascal's rebel, on the quick.
Pitching the little pink pills.
Like smoke they dull-fade as age hits.
A dreamer is willing to dye, dye constantly.
Joy of the brief point venture.
No obesity feared with whats next, or whats not.
The light is off, and we are all whistling.
Should just Satan and almighty deep-hold.
Come what unknown, and dream-doing.
Don't dim with giving belly-up.
Let go of the moonshine, and cloud nine.
Someone else gave it a name.
Like Nirvana, and the word redemption
All in the inner village.
Dreamer.