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We're all going to meet
in the bar,
to drink and forget some
things as they are,
to see the bad things
from out afar.
Beads of a dark world
beckon us in,
Dreams of a past world
growing so dim,
True to our joy world, be
it not sin.
We're off to see our
friendly foe,
to you, Frank; to me, Joe.
Frank,
my youngest brother, 1953 - 1988. Died in a car accident
along
with his wife and daughter, one daughter survivied.
Dictation For A Dictator
Reservation for a
dictator, a person astute and brave,
All the comforts of home
for him, and all arrangements made.
The room jusy right to
sway his mind, sway from wars of his day,
With tapestry and bright
lights, a floor of softest clay.
Food from four corners of
the world; bread, cake, and wine.
Pastries for him to eat,
or just to look at and pine.
Music sweet and honoring
too, music of his flag.
And, of course, plenty of
women so he can feel quite stag.
Very few calls and
visitors to harass the master's mind.
All was arranged and all
must match perfect time.
And just above the floor
it stands: a window open against the night,
A passage of fresh air
and darkened sights.
And we hope as the
dictator eats his bread,
A bullet from there will
strike his head. |
