Fishermen, fishermen rise before the dawn and pursue..a dream! their dream is fish. So it is with a poet, he has his the sea, –perchance to dream, to dream his wish (a sand-wish). In the open sea-market by the the sea! by the sea, the fishermen land their boat-fulls of fish..their catch; and disembark! present their wares for all to see, –an offering to a village to prove their worth (pick up some babes). A poet! the one who knew it, wrote what he saw, recites what he wrote. The fish the fishermen brought and did not sell, begin to smell, well! the poet, –you know it! ‘s in the same boat with the fish (death, and dearth)..he’s up a tree you see. So! did I get my wish? C’est la vie!* Mein herz, mein fisch! mein hair (mein twaddle), what?Achilles felt – trying to take the bowel movement on that distant and hostile shore with Paris’ arrow stuck in the heel while Ajax and everybody watch’d..stonily – at just around sunrise (when he may have sed), “Ah, Dios! ‘snow biggie, piggies, pi..Pi=(X)” Find that and you’re good! thanks, thank yu-u-u-u!! Yu-ban a great audience..God bless.

*Such is life, you know and short..shut up and make me a dam sammich.

obamma speaks! at one of my old alma maters, –Fatar’s..all my college’s. They hate poetry!!

Published by scrunchymacscruff

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