…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…