Far Stish
Clinging to the jetty for dear life,
you know not what is coming to you, do you?
Each new wave brings life, invigorates.
In the absence, in the gap,
there is only the longing for what has passed,
the safety of the sea.
Now it is gone and something sinister has come.
The sea recedes.
The star is pried,
untimely ripped, for a rancid tomb.
Life is short for a star on a rock,
when scientific knowledge is to be had,
but what shall a star do in a bucket?
Where is its sky?
With its light in a bucket there's not much hope
My star is expired.
My star is dead.
My star is sentenced,
sentenced to hang by the leg til fallen.
A falling star,
Falling, striking ground
star dust, everywhere
a finer fate no star could ask.
No bottle o' Jameson,
No bottle o' Re-Juv-Nal,
Even these can not remove a falling star
My star,
My Far Stish
RIP Farstish
?- April 2012
Next Post:
Ode to My Chastity Mug
No comments:
Post a Comment