…like a true nature’s child, I was born to be wild…
Left on a
moonless night
caddy shine’n bright
wad’a dolla’s in my hand
visions of the promised land
ruined my caddy — didn’t win
lost more than a little skin
paint n’patience worn thin
tough times came in bunches
just kept roll’n with the punches
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
if you liked this one above here — there’s much more below here
This is wonderful, Rob. Feels like a blues song in the making.
Thank you De! My life is just one big blues song… 😉
looking for the love this button.
Thanks Rog — 🙂
Oh excellent. That’s the way to take it.
I am like one of those inflatable clowns with the sand-filled base K — knock me down and I bounce right back up.
Y’got thru, tho, rite?
Cool.
I’m like a cockroach Ron, prehistoric — and hard to kill… 😉
Lost some skin but gained so many stories, I’m sure!! That’s the treasure, enjoyed this!
Thank you Tricia… 🙂
Sounds like many tales of people leaving Las Vegas. Nicely done.
Fleeced by the flim flam fantasy. 🙂
Sometimes all you can do is roll with it, as you know. I like how you compared yourself with the state of your Caddy and the image you chose to reflect them. Good musical selections, my friend!
Been rollin’ all my life Lisa… 🙂
Definitely song material, Rob. Keep rollin’!
I have written so many lyrics in the past 59 years, I fall easily into that form… 🙂
Love the bluesy feeling, Rob! ????
Thank you Punam… 🙂
Awesome. I love the rhythm!
Thank you Mary, I’m pleased… 🙂
Maybe being punchdrunk is just a cheaper way of being drunk.
Sure as hell can be Bjorn, depending on what’yer drinkin’.
I felt more of a rocking riff heavy bass here reminding Luck ain’t always a lady and she can pack a wallop. This carried quite the punch.
Thank you Raivenne, I can hear that my friend. Glad this struck you… 😉