A Benders End

It was early as it was late,
Our comrades,
Bold chevaliers,
Had assembled there,
hard twisting fate!
The Banshees lowly cry,
came up from the street,
The stale smoke,
The palor of a filled room,
Pale faces,
Tired and red,
Where joy spilled from mouths,
from a steel strum,
These inspired instruments;
What foreign thing do you speak?
What rebellion do you sing?

you drunken devil!
You soused louse-
It reaches mine ears so sweet;

It is a road paved with bodies,
the mortar,
the gravel of dreams,
Broken are they,
Those ideas,
We trip and stagger upon,
With a smile in our besotted hearts,
And insurrection past its bedtime,
On our hanging,
Oft times shouting,
petrolled lips.

Goodevening, sleeptight-on a gas stations pump tonight.

Goodevening, sleeptight-on a gas stations pump tonight.

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About A Foreign Sojourn

I am a Joe of many trades including professional cook, avid reader and ambitious adventurer-check out my latest photos and peruse my blogs for a sampling in regards to the worlds of eating and worldly adventures!
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