Discussion:
Watermelon Moon / Will Dockery
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Will Dockery
2016-06-24 07:20:53 UTC
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Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
When I first saw this, I thought it said "Watermelon Man." It's funny how
a little thing like a title can affect one's interpretation.
===========================================================

Wasn't there a Broadway musical named "Watermelon Mann" or something like
that?

:)
Will Dockery
2016-06-24 07:27:41 UTC
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Post by Will Dockery
Wasn't there a Broadway musical named "Watermelon Mann"
Typo alert:

Man, not Mann.

:)
Will Dockery
2016-06-25 02:34:43 UTC
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Post by Will Dockery
Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
When I first saw this, I thought it said "Watermelon Man." It's funny
how
a little thing like a title can affect one's interpretation.
===========================================================
Wasn't there a Broadway musical named "Watermelon Mann" or something
like
that?
:)
A 1970 movie in which a middle class, suburban white man wakes up to find
that he's become black.
And way before that, I see there was also a song written by Herbie Hancock:

Hancock said, "I remember the cry of the watermelon man making the rounds
through the back streets and alleys of Chicago. The wheels of his wagon beat
out the rhythm on the cobblestones."

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Watermelon_Man_(composition)

"Watermelon Man" is a jazz standard written by Herbie Hancock, first
released on his debut album, Takin' Off (1962).

First version was released as a grooving hard bop and featured
improvisations by Freddie Hubbard and Dexter Gordon.[1] A single of the tune
reached the Top 100 of the pop charts. Cuban percussionist Mongo Santamaría
released the tune as a Latin pop single the next year on Battle Records,
where it became a surprise hit, reaching #10 on the pop charts.[2]
Santamaría's recording was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1998.
Hancock radically re-worked the tune, combining elements of funk, for the
album Head Hunters (1973).

Not such a bad thing to be compared to...
Will Dockery
2017-03-18 07:49:48 UTC
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Post by Will Dockery
Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
When I first saw this, I thought it said "Watermelon Man." It's funny
how
a little thing like a title can affect one's interpretation.
===========================================================
Wasn't there a Broadway musical named "Watermelon Mann" or something
like
that?
:)
A 1970 movie in which a middle class, suburban white man wakes up to find
that he's become black.
Well, I was thinking of the movie when I misread the title, so my original
take on the poem was that it was ... uhm ... politically incorrect. :-)
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Gang warfare (symbolic), stuck in the ghetto
...
And through other eyes
Godfrey Cambridge's character has undergone the transformation and now sees
life through the eyes of a black man.
...
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
His wife is still white and ...
And you don't find
nothing to love.
... is having difficulty accepting his changes.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
He's found new black friends.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
With his new black perspective, he no longer relates to her.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
Symbolically equating the "black experience" with interracial sex neither of
which can penetrate her ingrained prejudices.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
More gang warfare symbolism.
...
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
Not sure what's going on here, but it seems to hint at the "whiteness" of
her mind intensifying, possibly as a reaction to suddenly having a black
husband: latent prejudices surfacing?
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
Vodoo ritual/tribal symbolism -- ancestral memories of a more primitive,
savage state.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
He wants to make her less white/breakdown her prejudices.
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
He turned black from eating watermelon: a symbolic variation on the myth of
"blackness" rubbing off.
and drink rancid wines.
Ripple.
...Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
His heart, tortured for love of her, has been martyred, but she cannot get
beyond the blackness of his skin.
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
Possibly marijuana. Either way the smoking symbolizes her act of
contemplation, but her thoughts are twisted by hate creeds from the South.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
Unable to accept his "blackness," she has turned to "black" drugs (a
symbolic racial transformation of her own).

Anyway, now that I see that it was a "Moon," the above reading is only good
for a laugh.

============================================================

Hilarious...

I had forgotten how funny this one was.
Will Dockery
2016-06-25 12:23:57 UTC
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Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
Strong realities...liking the older stuff....

=================================

Thank you, Jimmy... many more to come.

Next two will be either "Sersi Spade" or "Diamond", or perhaps my often
planned but delayed posting of "Hugo".
Will Dockery
2016-11-12 12:20:05 UTC
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Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
When I first saw this, I thought it said "Watermelon Man." It's funny how
a little thing like a title can affect one's interpretation.
And, as we saw, the song "Watermelon Man" sure has had a lively history...
Will Dockery
2016-11-22 21:42:12 UTC
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Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
Strong realities...liking the older stuff....

---------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks again, Jimmy...

More older and brand newpoetry nd song coming directly.

:)
Will Dockery
2016-11-24 07:34:33 UTC
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Post by Will Dockery
Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
Strong realities...liking the older stuff....
---------------------------------------------------------------
Thanks again, Jimmy...
More older and brand new poetry and song coming directly.
Look forward...

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Good deal.

:)
Will Dockery
2016-11-23 21:30:53 UTC
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Good 70's vibe in this poem.
Thanks for the read and feedback, GJ.
Will Dockery
2016-11-24 07:22:14 UTC
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Raw Message
Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
Strong realities...liking the older stuff....

-------------------------------------------------

Thanks again, Jim.
Will Dockery
2016-11-25 20:04:02 UTC
Reply
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Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
When I first saw this, I thought it said "Watermelon Man." It's funny how a
little thing like a title can affect one's interpretation.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I always get a chuckle out of this one, thanks for the laugh, Michael.
Will Dockery
2017-02-21 20:06:52 UTC
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Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
When I first saw this, I thought it said "Watermelon Man." It's funny how a
little thing like a title can affect one's interpretation.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't care who you are, that's still pretty funny.

:)
Will Dockery
2017-03-18 07:52:53 UTC
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Post by Will Dockery
Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
When I first saw this, I thought it said "Watermelon Man." It's funny how a
little thing like a title can affect one's interpretation.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don't care who you are, that's still pretty funny.
:)
It was..................

=============================================================

Worth a re-run, for sure.
Will Dockery
2017-03-18 07:40:04 UTC
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Good 70's vibe in this poem.
Thanks G.J.
Will Dockery
2017-03-18 07:43:59 UTC
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Raw Message
Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
Strong realities...liking the older stuff....

===============================================

Thanks again, Jim...
Will Dockery
2017-08-05 14:04:58 UTC
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Raw Message
Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
One of the better poems I have seen and read here...
Thank you, "bryl".
More of my work can be found via the link below...
--
Music and poetry of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Sylvester Stallone
eats watermelon
like a felon --
I eat water-melone
like I'm at home.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Funny poem, Richard, thanks for posting.
Will Dockery
2017-11-13 22:56:29 UTC
Reply
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Raw Message
Look at you
<snip>

That all you /ever/ do is "look at Will Dockery", my stalking little
obsesso.

:)
Will Dockery
2017-11-14 01:17:46 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Will Dockery
Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
Strong realities...liking the older stuff....
---------------------------------------------------------------
Thanks again, Jimmy...
More older and brand newpoetry nd song coming directly.
Look forward...
In fact, the collected "Earlier Poems" 1970-1989, is now in the
planning stages.
Stay tuned.
:)
The planning stages? Already? That project's rolling along in record
time.
Time stands still in the depths of Will
The only subject in your fevered little brain, obsesso?

"We know."

:)
Will Dockery
2017-11-14 23:47:22 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
One of the better poems I have seen and read here...
Thank you, "bryl".
More of my work can be found via the link below...
--
Music and poetry of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Sylvester Stallone
eats watermelon
like a felon --
I eat water-melone
like I'm at home.

------------------------------------------------------------

Amusing OBpoem Richard, thanks again.

:)
Will Dockery
2017-11-15 00:40:34 UTC
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Raw Message
I heard that Dylan rapes his female fans on stage.
No, that's just a malicious rumor, but Dylan was observed fingering a young
lady back in 1966, while her husband watched.

True story, look it up.

:)
Will Dockery
2017-11-15 00:49:32 UTC
Reply
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Raw Message
Back in Dylan's heyday they called them "groupies".
I'd always been under the impression that sex with "groupies" was
consensual.
At the time it happened, I suspect that later the ladies satrt changing
their minds when they see the $$$ signs other chicks are getting.
Will Dockery
2017-11-20 01:27:21 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / May 1976
One of the better poems I have seen and read here...
Thank you, "bryl".
More of my work can be found via the link below...
--
Music and poetry of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery

Sylvester Stallone
eats watermelon
like a felon --
I eat water-melone
like I'm at home.

---------------------------------------------------------

I still get a laugh out of this one.

I don't care who it is, you are a funny guy...

:)
Will Dockery
2017-11-20 01:30:35 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
I heard that Dylan rapes his female fans on stage. I think he should go
the way of Harvey Weinstein.
But what do I know? I'm just a sock monkey...
Stop that...he only raped Rachel....
With his mind, perhaps.

Some say Bob Dylan can bend spoons with his mental prowess.

:)
Will Dockery
2017-11-21 21:57:19 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Raw Message
On Sunday, November 19, 2017 at 8:24:41 PM UTC-5, George J. Dance
On Friday, November 17, 2017 at 11:46:41 PM UTC-5,
Post by Will Dockery
Watermelon Moon
I'm going to slug this thing out
to the bitter bloody end.
The wheels have turned too fast
but gone nowhere for too long.
Snow collects on the windows
and this summer will only twist it.
Tried my best for the entire game
just to keep the lights on.
This morning I was looking
looking over the river.
At the blueness
of early morning springtime.
And through other eyes
I saw how others also needed...
your touch.
Hope they find
what it is they need.
But when you look
into the mirror
and you see those green eyes
staring yourself right back.
And you don't find
nothing to love.
Just remember others do
and we hang around for free.
Because there's nobody
else
quite like you.
What I said and thought
we two totally different things.
I ran it all through a filter
wish I could somehow
get inside you with it.
And flag down that lonely rider
that rides inside your soul.
Paying in blood
for what got lost.
What we will never find again.
Strange waters in your thoughts
like dying watercolors.
With a wicked witless witness
hair slinging to her sides.
Memories whisper like
ancient specters in some grave.
How can I water your moonlight
or alter it?
Your body curled
in creamy thin spindles.
My poetry exposed at last
all we did was eat watermelon
and drink rancid wines.
But I never wanted to lose
the sparks
we once shared.
Look at me
I have a crown of thorns
on my heart now.
But you still find nothing
there to love?
Your lips on a cigarette
smoke flutters across
your face.
Smoke rising in textured streams
like southern winds twisting.
With a twisted scorn of youth
a taste of honey on your lips.
The black drugs you use
your amphetamine trips.
-Will Dockery / written May 1976
<snip>
Do you support adults having sex with 13-year olds, Will?
I've answered this question, what, about six times now?
No, I don't think people our age should do that, but I
realistically know that most 13 year olds have sex with each
other, or sure did back in my day.
And for the seventh time, the question is not about 13-year olds
having sex with other 13-year olds.
Pickering said he was 16; that's not the same but close enough.
The concept of "age of consent" would be meaningless in such a case.
No it would not; it would mean whatever the
'government/parental/society-regulated "age of consent"' dictated.
The older teen could be punished as a 'sex offender,' or the male;
or both.
The question pertains to adults having sex with 13-year olds.
No, that's the same rhetorical sleight-of-hand that was pulled with
Chuck Lysaght: reframing what he wrote about a teen having sex, as a
teen *with an adult*.
In fact, neither Lysaght nor Pickering mentioned adults having sex
with teens.
You're quite right, George. Everybody knows that a teenager doesn't
require a babysitter.
Nor, for that matter, does an adult.
So if the "Perfect Angel" wasn't a teenager, and wasn't an adult ...
what does that leave us with?
Just in case it could be misinterpreted, Chuck included a link
Oh, that was claimed, but nobody I know and trust ever saw that, including
me, for the record.

Did you see it, Horatio?

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