Journey in the Past

Back in 1980, a long ago time
I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
Get off work at five
from Harvey Lumber and Supply
and be in Atlanta by nine.

The commute was billed as express
but was often a slow ride at best.
The bus stopped at each town
the driver's horn would loudly sound
the journey put my patience to the test.

Once settled in the ride was a breeze
my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
I'd dash out a poem
happy to be finally going
knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.

The bus rolled through little towns
with a screeching, roaring sound.
As the bus made the stop
on and off folks would hop
and soon we would again be northbound.

The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
I'd jump off for my short vacation.
With my suitcase I'd walk
up the long street I'd stalk
for the next leg of my destination.

Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
with correct change I could jump on.
Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
watching city lights flash through the dark
the sensation was like being stoned.

Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
I'd had a fine trip
now it was time to slip
Into some peace and quiet for a spell.

-Will Dockery (2020)

----
From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html

On Tue, 27 Dec 2022 22:33:55 +0000, will.dockery@gmail.com (W.Dockery)
wrote:

>Journey in the Past
>
>Back in 1980, a long ago time
>I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
>Get off work at five
>from Harvey Lumber and Supply
>and be in Atlanta by nine.
>
>The commute was billed as express
>but was often a slow ride at best.
>The bus stopped at each town
>the driver's horn would loudly sound
>the journey put my patience to the test.
>
>Once settled in the ride was a breeze
>my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
>I'd dash out a poem
>happy to be finally going
>knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
>
>The bus rolled through little towns
>with a screeching, roaring sound.
>As the bus made the stop
>on and off folks would hop
>and soon we would again be northbound.
>
>The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
>I'd jump off for my short vacation.
>With my suitcase I'd walk
>up the long street I'd stalk
>for the next leg of my destination.
>
>Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
>with correct change I could jump on.
>Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
>watching city lights flash through the dark
>the sensation was like being stoned.
>
>Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
>was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
>I'd had a fine trip
>now it was time to slip
>Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
>
>-Will Dockery (2020)
>
>----
>From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html

Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
Bound":

"I'm sittin' in the railway station
Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
On a tour of one night stands
My suitcase and guitar in hand
And every stop is neatly planned
For a poet and a one man band."

Mack A. Damia wrote:

> On Tue, 27 Dec 2022 22:33:55 +0000, will.dockery@gmail.com (W.Dockery)
> wrote:

>>Journey in the Past
>>
>>Back in 1980, a long ago time
>>I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
>>Get off work at five
>>from Harvey Lumber and Supply
>>and be in Atlanta by nine.
>>
>>The commute was billed as express
>>but was often a slow ride at best.
>>The bus stopped at each town
>>the driver's horn would loudly sound
>>the journey put my patience to the test.
>>
>>Once settled in the ride was a breeze
>>my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
>>I'd dash out a poem
>>happy to be finally going
>>knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
>>
>>The bus rolled through little towns
>>with a screeching, roaring sound.
>>As the bus made the stop
>>on and off folks would hop
>>and soon we would again be northbound.
>>
>>The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
>>I'd jump off for my short vacation.
>>With my suitcase I'd walk
>>up the long street I'd stalk
>>for the next leg of my destination.
>>
>>Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
>>with correct change I could jump on.
>>Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
>>watching city lights flash through the dark
>>the sensation was like being stoned.
>>
>>Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
>>was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
>>I'd had a fine trip
>>now it was time to slip
>>Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
>>
>>-Will Dockery (2020)
>>
>>----
>>From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>>https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html

> Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
> Bound":

> "I'm sittin' in the railway station
> Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
> On a tour of one night stands
> My suitcase and guitar in hand
> And every stop is neatly planned
> For a poet and a one man band."

Thanks for reading and commenting, I'm on the road right now, will reply more fully later.

🙂

On Tuesday, December 27, 2022 at 6:38:18 PM UTC-5, Mack A. Damia wrote:
> On Tue, 27 Dec 2022 22:33:55 +0000, will.d...@gmail.com (W.Dockery)
> wrote:
> >Journey in the Past
> >
> >Back in 1980, a long ago time
> >I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
> >Get off work at five
> >from Harvey Lumber and Supply
> >and be in Atlanta by nine.
> >
> >The commute was billed as express
> >but was often a slow ride at best.
> >The bus stopped at each town
> >the driver's horn would loudly sound
> >the journey put my patience to the test.
> >
> >Once settled in the ride was a breeze
> >my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
> >I'd dash out a poem
> >happy to be finally going
> >knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
> >
> >The bus rolled through little towns
> >with a screeching, roaring sound.
> >As the bus made the stop
> >on and off folks would hop
> >and soon we would again be northbound.
> >
> >The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
> >I'd jump off for my short vacation.
> >With my suitcase I'd walk
> >up the long street I'd stalk
> >for the next leg of my destination.
> >
> >Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
> >with correct change I could jump on.
> >Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
> >watching city lights flash through the dark
> >the sensation was like being stoned.
> >
> >Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
> >was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
> >I'd had a fine trip
> >now it was time to slip
> >Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
> >
> >-Will Dockery (2020)
> >
> >----
> >From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> >https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
> Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
> Bound":
>
> "I'm sittin' in the railway station
> Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
> On a tour of one night stands
> My suitcase and guitar in hand
> And every stop is neatly planned
> For a poet and a one man band."

Many of us enjoy Simon and Garfunkel, (sp) Jake.

The contrast between their lyric and the Donkey's doggerel speaks volumes.

On Tuesday, December 27, 2022 at 7:44:04 PM UTC-5, cocodeso...@gmail.com wrote:
> On Tuesday, December 27, 2022 at 6:38:18 PM UTC-5, Mack A. Damia wrote:
> > On Tue, 27 Dec 2022 22:33:55 +0000, will.d...@gmail.com (W.Dockery)
> > wrote:
>
> > >Journey in the Past
> > >
> > >Back in 1980, a long ago time
> > >I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
> > >Get off work at five
> > >from Harvey Lumber and Supply
> > >and be in Atlanta by nine.
> > >
> > >The commute was billed as express
> > >but was often a slow ride at best.
> > >The bus stopped at each town
> > >the driver's horn would loudly sound
> > >the journey put my patience to the test.
> > >
> > >Once settled in the ride was a breeze
> > >my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
> > >I'd dash out a poem
> > >happy to be finally going
> > >knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
> > >
> > >The bus rolled through little towns
> > >with a screeching, roaring sound.
> > >As the bus made the stop
> > >on and off folks would hop
> > >and soon we would again be northbound.
> > >
> > >The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
> > >I'd jump off for my short vacation.
> > >With my suitcase I'd walk
> > >up the long street I'd stalk
> > >for the next leg of my destination.
> > >
> > >Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
> > >with correct change I could jump on.
> > >Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
> > >watching city lights flash through the dark
> > >the sensation was like being stoned.
> > >
> > >Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
> > >was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
> > >I'd had a fine trip
> > >now it was time to slip
> > >Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
> > >
> > >-Will Dockery (2020)
> > >
> > >----
> > >From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> > >https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
> > Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
> > Bound":
> >
> > "I'm sittin' in the railway station
> > Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
> > On a tour of one night stands
> > My suitcase and guitar in hand
> > And every stop is neatly planned
> > For a poet and a one man band."
> Many of us enjoy Simon and Garfunkel, (sp) Jake.
>
> The contrast between their lyric and the Donkey's doggerel speaks volumes.

Says Michael Pendragon, the delusional fool who has fantasies about being a better poet than T.S. Eliot.

HTH and HAND.

Coco DeSockmonkey wrote:

> On Tuesday, December 27, 2022 at 6:38:18 PM UTC-5, Mack A. Damia wrote:
>> On Tue, 27 Dec 2022 22:33:55 +0000, will.d...@gmail.com (W.Dockery)
>> wrote:
>
>> >Journey in the Past
>> >
>> >Back in 1980, a long ago time
>> >I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
>> >Get off work at five
>> >from Harvey Lumber and Supply
>> >and be in Atlanta by nine.
>> >
>> >The commute was billed as express
>> >but was often a slow ride at best.
>> >The bus stopped at each town
>> >the driver's horn would loudly sound
>> >the journey put my patience to the test.
>> >
>> >Once settled in the ride was a breeze
>> >my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
>> >I'd dash out a poem
>> >happy to be finally going
>> >knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
>> >
>> >The bus rolled through little towns
>> >with a screeching, roaring sound.
>> >As the bus made the stop
>> >on and off folks would hop
>> >and soon we would again be northbound.
>> >
>> >The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
>> >I'd jump off for my short vacation.
>> >With my suitcase I'd walk
>> >up the long street I'd stalk
>> >for the next leg of my destination.
>> >
>> >Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
>> >with correct change I could jump on.
>> >Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
>> >watching city lights flash through the dark
>> >the sensation was like being stoned.
>> >
>> >Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
>> >was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
>> >I'd had a fine trip
>> >now it was time to slip
>> >Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
>> >
>> >-Will Dockery (2020)
>> >
>> >----
>> >From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>> >https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
>> Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
>> Bound":
>>
>> "I'm sittin' in the railway station
>> Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
>> On a tour of one night stands
>> My suitcase and guitar in hand
>> And every stop is neatly planned
>> For a poet and a one man band."

> Many of us enjoy Simon and Garfunkel

Finally, something we can all agree on.

🙂

On Wednesday, December 28, 2022 at 3:35:15 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> Coco DeSockmonkey wrote:
>
> > On Tuesday, December 27, 2022 at 6:38:18 PM UTC-5, Mack A. Damia wrote:
> >> On Tue, 27 Dec 2022 22:33:55 +0000, will.d...@gmail.com (W.Dockery)
> >> wrote:
> >
> >> >Journey in the Past
> >> >
> >> >Back in 1980, a long ago time
> >> >I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
> >> >Get off work at five
> >> >from Harvey Lumber and Supply
> >> >and be in Atlanta by nine.
> >> >
> >> >The commute was billed as express
> >> >but was often a slow ride at best.
> >> >The bus stopped at each town
> >> >the driver's horn would loudly sound
> >> >the journey put my patience to the test.
> >> >
> >> >Once settled in the ride was a breeze
> >> >my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
> >> >I'd dash out a poem
> >> >happy to be finally going
> >> >knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
> >> >
> >> >The bus rolled through little towns
> >> >with a screeching, roaring sound.
> >> >As the bus made the stop
> >> >on and off folks would hop
> >> >and soon we would again be northbound.
> >> >
> >> >The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
> >> >I'd jump off for my short vacation.
> >> >With my suitcase I'd walk
> >> >up the long street I'd stalk
> >> >for the next leg of my destination.
> >> >
> >> >Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
> >> >with correct change I could jump on.
> >> >Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
> >> >watching city lights flash through the dark
> >> >the sensation was like being stoned.
> >> >
> >> >Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
> >> >was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
> >> >I'd had a fine trip
> >> >now it was time to slip
> >> >Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
> >> >
> >> >-Will Dockery (2020)
> >> >
> >> >----
> >> >From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> >> >https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
> >> Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
> >> Bound":
> >>
> >> "I'm sittin' in the railway station
> >> Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
> >> On a tour of one night stands
> >> My suitcase and guitar in hand
> >> And every stop is neatly planned
> >> For a poet and a one man band."
>
> > Many of us enjoy Simon and Garfunkel, (sp) Jake.
> >
> > The contrast between their lyric and the Donkey's doggerel speaks volumes.
> Finally, something we can all agree on.

RESTORED AND ARCHIVED

W.Dockery wrote:

> Coco DeSockmonkey wrote:

>> On Tuesday, December 27, 2022 at 6:38:18 PM UTC-5, Mack A. Damia wrote:
>>> On Tue, 27 Dec 2022 22:33:55 +0000, will.d...@gmail.com (W.Dockery)
>>> wrote:
>>
>>> >Journey in the Past
>>> >
>>> >Back in 1980, a long ago time
>>> >I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
>>> >Get off work at five
>>> >from Harvey Lumber and Supply
>>> >and be in Atlanta by nine.
>>> >
>>> >The commute was billed as express
>>> >but was often a slow ride at best.
>>> >The bus stopped at each town
>>> >the driver's horn would loudly sound
>>> >the journey put my patience to the test.
>>> >
>>> >Once settled in the ride was a breeze
>>> >my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
>>> >I'd dash out a poem
>>> >happy to be finally going
>>> >knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
>>> >
>>> >The bus rolled through little towns
>>> >with a screeching, roaring sound.
>>> >As the bus made the stop
>>> >on and off folks would hop
>>> >and soon we would again be northbound.
>>> >
>>> >The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
>>> >I'd jump off for my short vacation.
>>> >With my suitcase I'd walk
>>> >up the long street I'd stalk
>>> >for the next leg of my destination.
>>> >
>>> >Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
>>> >with correct change I could jump on.
>>> >Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
>>> >watching city lights flash through the dark
>>> >the sensation was like being stoned.
>>> >
>>> >Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
>>> >was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
>>> >I'd had a fine trip
>>> >now it was time to slip
>>> >Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
>>> >
>>> >-Will Dockery (2020)
>>> >
>>> >----
>>> >From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>>> >https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
>>> Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
>>> Bound":
>>>
>>> "I'm sittin' in the railway station
>>> Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
>>> On a tour of one night stands
>>> My suitcase and guitar in hand
>>> And every stop is neatly planned
>>> For a poet and a one man band."

>> Many of us enjoy Simon and Garfunkel

> Finally, something we can all agree on.

> 🙂

Yes, that's certainly correct...!

On Wednesday, December 28, 2022 at 4:30:14 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> W.Dockery wrote:
>
> > Coco DeSockmonkey wrote:
>
> >> On Tuesday, December 27, 2022 at 6:38:18 PM UTC-5, Mack A. Damia wrote:
> >>> On Tue, 27 Dec 2022 22:33:55 +0000, will.d...@gmail.com (W.Dockery)
> >>> wrote:
> >>
> >>> >Journey in the Past
> >>> >
> >>> >Back in 1980, a long ago time
> >>> >I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
> >>> >Get off work at five
> >>> >from Harvey Lumber and Supply
> >>> >and be in Atlanta by nine.
> >>> >
> >>> >The commute was billed as express
> >>> >but was often a slow ride at best.
> >>> >The bus stopped at each town
> >>> >the driver's horn would loudly sound
> >>> >the journey put my patience to the test.
> >>> >
> >>> >Once settled in the ride was a breeze
> >>> >my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
> >>> >I'd dash out a poem
> >>> >happy to be finally going
> >>> >knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
> >>> >
> >>> >The bus rolled through little towns
> >>> >with a screeching, roaring sound.
> >>> >As the bus made the stop
> >>> >on and off folks would hop
> >>> >and soon we would again be northbound.
> >>> >
> >>> >The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
> >>> >I'd jump off for my short vacation.
> >>> >With my suitcase I'd walk
> >>> >up the long street I'd stalk
> >>> >for the next leg of my destination.
> >>> >
> >>> >Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
> >>> >with correct change I could jump on.
> >>> >Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
> >>> >watching city lights flash through the dark
> >>> >the sensation was like being stoned.
> >>> >
> >>> >Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
> >>> >was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
> >>> >I'd had a fine trip
> >>> >now it was time to slip
> >>> >Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
> >>> >
> >>> >-Will Dockery (2020)
> >>> >
> >>> >----
> >>> >From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> >>> >https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
> >>> Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
> >>> Bound":
> >>>
> >>> "I'm sittin' in the railway station
> >>> Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
> >>> On a tour of one night stands
> >>> My suitcase and guitar in hand
> >>> And every stop is neatly planned
> >>> For a poet and a one man band."

> > > Many of us enjoy Simon and Garfunkel, (sp) Jake.
> > >
> > > The contrast between their lyric and the Donkey's doggerel speaks volumes.

> > Finally, something we can all agree on.
>
> > 🙂
> Yes, that's certainly correct...!

Aw... Stink wants to play, too.

I'm glad we all agree that the contrast between their lyric and the Donkey's doggerel speaks volumes.

*You should have learned from your Donkey's infamous "Handy Sandy" post, that those "reply" to post-edited text are going to end up hoisted with their own petard.

Michael Pendragon wrote:

> On Wednesday, December 28, 2022 at 4:30:14 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> W.Dockery wrote:
>>
>> > Coco DeSockmonkey wrote:
>>
>> >> On Tuesday, December 27, 2022 at 6:38:18 PM UTC-5, Mack A. Damia wrote:
>> >>> On Tue, 27 Dec 2022 22:33:55 +0000, will.d...@gmail.com (W.Dockery)
>> >>> wrote:
>> >>
>> >>> >Journey in the Past
>> >>> >
>> >>> >Back in 1980, a long ago time
>> >>> >I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
>> >>> >Get off work at five
>> >>> >from Harvey Lumber and Supply
>> >>> >and be in Atlanta by nine.
>> >>> >
>> >>> >The commute was billed as express
>> >>> >but was often a slow ride at best.
>> >>> >The bus stopped at each town
>> >>> >the driver's horn would loudly sound
>> >>> >the journey put my patience to the test.
>> >>> >
>> >>> >Once settled in the ride was a breeze
>> >>> >my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
>> >>> >I'd dash out a poem
>> >>> >happy to be finally going
>> >>> >knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
>> >>> >
>> >>> >The bus rolled through little towns
>> >>> >with a screeching, roaring sound.
>> >>> >As the bus made the stop
>> >>> >on and off folks would hop
>> >>> >and soon we would again be northbound.
>> >>> >
>> >>> >The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
>> >>> >I'd jump off for my short vacation.
>> >>> >With my suitcase I'd walk
>> >>> >up the long street I'd stalk
>> >>> >for the next leg of my destination.
>> >>> >
>> >>> >Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
>> >>> >with correct change I could jump on.
>> >>> >Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
>> >>> >watching city lights flash through the dark
>> >>> >the sensation was like being stoned.
>> >>> >
>> >>> >Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
>> >>> >was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
>> >>> >I'd had a fine trip
>> >>> >now it was time to slip
>> >>> >Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
>> >>> >
>> >>> >-Will Dockery (2020)
>> >>> >
>> >>> >----
>> >>> >From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>> >>> >https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
>> >>> Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
>> >>> Bound":
>> >>>
>> >>> "I'm sittin' in the railway station
>> >>> Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
>> >>> On a tour of one night stands
>> >>> My suitcase and guitar in hand
>> >>> And every stop is neatly planned
>> >>> For a poet and a one man band."

>> > > Many of us enjoy Simon and Garfunkel, (sp) Jake.
>> > >
>> > > The contrast between their lyric and the Donkey's doggerel speaks volumes.

>> > Finally, something we can all agree on.
>>
>
>> Yes, that's certainly correct...!

> Aw...

Stop your sobbing, Pendragon

🙂

--
Here, Pendragon:

https://www.reverbnation.com/main/charts/Local/rock?artist_id=413260

HTH and HAND.

On Wednesday, December 28, 2022 at 9:50:16 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> Michael Pendragon wrote:
> > On Wednesday, December 28, 2022 at 4:30:14 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> >> Will Dockery wrote:
>
> >> >>> >Journey in the Past
> >> >>> >
> >> >>> >Back in 1980, a long ago time
> >> >>> >I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
> >> >>> >Get off work at five
> >> >>> >from Harvey Lumber and Supply
> >> >>> >and be in Atlanta by nine.
> >> >>> >
> >> >>> >The commute was billed as express
> >> >>> >but was often a slow ride at best.
> >> >>> >The bus stopped at each town
> >> >>> >the driver's horn would loudly sound
> >> >>> >the journey put my patience to the test.
> >> >>> >
> >> >>> >Once settled in the ride was a breeze
> >> >>> >my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
> >> >>> >I'd dash out a poem
> >> >>> >happy to be finally going
> >> >>> >knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
> >> >>> >
> >> >>> >The bus rolled through little towns
> >> >>> >with a screeching, roaring sound.
> >> >>> >As the bus made the stop
> >> >>> >on and off folks would hop
> >> >>> >and soon we would again be northbound.
> >> >>> >
> >> >>> >The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
> >> >>> >I'd jump off for my short vacation.
> >> >>> >With my suitcase I'd walk
> >> >>> >up the long street I'd stalk
> >> >>> >for the next leg of my destination.
> >> >>> >
> >> >>> >Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
> >> >>> >with correct change I could jump on.
> >> >>> >Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
> >> >>> >watching city lights flash through the dark
> >> >>> >the sensation was like being stoned.
> >> >>> >
> >> >>> >Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
> >> >>> >was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
> >> >>> >I'd had a fine trip
> >> >>> >now it was time to slip
> >> >>> >Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
> >> >>> >
> >> >>> >-Will Dockery (2020)
> >> >>> >
> >> >>> >----
> >> >>> >From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> >> >>> >https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
> >> >>> Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
> >> >>> Bound":
> >> >>>
> >> >>> "I'm sittin' in the railway station
> >> >>> Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
> >> >>> On a tour of one night stands
> >> >>> My suitcase and guitar in hand
> >> >>> And every stop is neatly planned
> >> >>> For a poet and a one man band."
>
> >> > > Many of us enjoy Simon and Garfunkel, (sp) Jake.
> >> > >
> >> > > The contrast between their lyric and the Donkey's doggerel speaks volumes.
>
> >> > Finally, something we can all agree on.
> >>
> >
> >> Yes, that's certainly correct...!
>
> > Aw...
> Stop your sobbing, Pendragon
>
> Here, Pendragon:
>
> https://www.reverbnation.com/main/charts/Local/rock?artist_id=413260
>
> HTH and HAND.

Congrats and kudos for hitting the Number One spot again, Doc.....!

Zod wrote:

> On Wednesday, December 28, 2022 at 9:50:16 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> Michael Pendragon wrote:
>> > On Wednesday, December 28, 2022 at 4:30:14 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> >> Will Dockery wrote:
>>
>> >> >>> >Journey in the Past
>> >> >>> >
>> >> >>> >Back in 1980, a long ago time
>> >> >>> >I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
>> >> >>> >Get off work at five
>> >> >>> >from Harvey Lumber and Supply
>> >> >>> >and be in Atlanta by nine.
>> >> >>> >
>> >> >>> >The commute was billed as express
>> >> >>> >but was often a slow ride at best.
>> >> >>> >The bus stopped at each town
>> >> >>> >the driver's horn would loudly sound
>> >> >>> >the journey put my patience to the test.
>> >> >>> >
>> >> >>> >Once settled in the ride was a breeze
>> >> >>> >my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
>> >> >>> >I'd dash out a poem
>> >> >>> >happy to be finally going
>> >> >>> >knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
>> >> >>> >
>> >> >>> >The bus rolled through little towns
>> >> >>> >with a screeching, roaring sound.
>> >> >>> >As the bus made the stop
>> >> >>> >on and off folks would hop
>> >> >>> >and soon we would again be northbound.
>> >> >>> >
>> >> >>> >The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
>> >> >>> >I'd jump off for my short vacation.
>> >> >>> >With my suitcase I'd walk
>> >> >>> >up the long street I'd stalk
>> >> >>> >for the next leg of my destination.
>> >> >>> >
>> >> >>> >Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
>> >> >>> >with correct change I could jump on.
>> >> >>> >Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
>> >> >>> >watching city lights flash through the dark
>> >> >>> >the sensation was like being stoned.
>> >> >>> >
>> >> >>> >Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
>> >> >>> >was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
>> >> >>> >I'd had a fine trip
>> >> >>> >now it was time to slip
>> >> >>> >Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
>> >> >>> >
>> >> >>> >-Will Dockery (2020)
>> >> >>> >
>> >> >>> >----
>> >> >>> >From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>> >> >>> >https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
>> >> >>> Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
>> >> >>> Bound":
>> >> >>>
>> >> >>> "I'm sittin' in the railway station
>> >> >>> Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
>> >> >>> On a tour of one night stands
>> >> >>> My suitcase and guitar in hand
>> >> >>> And every stop is neatly planned
>> >> >>> For a poet and a one man band."
>>
>> >> > > Many of us enjoy Simon and Garfunkel, (sp) Jake.
>> >> > >
>> >> > > The contrast between their lyric and the Donkey's doggerel speaks volumes.
>>
>> >> > Finally, something we can all agree on.
>> >>
>> >
>> >> Yes, that's certainly correct...!
>>
>> > Aw...
>> Stop your sobbing, Pendragon
>>
>> Here, Pendragon:
>>
>> https://www.reverbnation.com/main/charts/Local/rock?artist_id=413260
>>
>> HTH and HAND.

> Congrats and kudos for hitting the Number One spot again, Doc.....!

Thanks for the nod, general Zod.

;)

Journey in the Past
(unexpurgated version)

Back in 1980, a long ago time, many years, many days, lots of time...
I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line, where the buses come fully equipped with latrines.
It wasn't really a commute because I slept in the back room where I worked at
the Harvey Lumber and Supply -- but I learned my English from Dan Barfly who said that close in meaning is good enough;
so I'd catch the bus every Friday night and be in Atlanta by nine.

The commute (that wasn't really a commute, but that's what I'm calling it anyway) was billed as express
but was often a slow ride at best because... you know... there's traffic and other passengers who want the bus to make stops and such.
The bus stopped at each bus stop because they're, like, stops... and buses have to stop at stops because they're called stops, so buses stop at them.
The driver's horn would loudly sound (I'm using an awkward sounding inversion just in case folks don't realize that a poem this is);
the journey put my patience to the test (I really should have learned how to read).

Once settled in the ride was a breeze (a slow breeze at best that tested my patience, of course, but nonetheless a breeze)
my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee (it was mostly pictures and since I don't know how to read, I couldn't tell what the pictures meant, but balancing it on my knee took skill, and made me look intelligent).
I'd dash out a poem which was really just whatever jumbled thought fragments popped into my head, but I once read one in front of Ahmos Zu-Bolton in English class, and he nodded politely -- so it's a poem --
happy to be finally going because we don't get bathroom breaks at work and have to hold it all in till we can hit the Greyhound latrines...
knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free (whoever Scott is, and why he's free is beyond me -- but I learned to speak English phonetically, so "scott free" it is).

The bus rolled through little towns (they were all downhill and it saved on gas)
with a screeching, roaring sound (I sure hope that no one from Greyhound ever reads this poem, because they'd sue).
As the bus made the stop (like I said they're called bus stops, so buses have to stop at them -- like how Tootle had to stop for red flags)
on and off folks would hop (more awkward inversions, just so's y'all remember this is a poem, dammit!)
and soon we would again be northbound (I mean, technically, we never stopped being northbound -- even when we were stopped -- but as Dan Barfly taught me: "Close enough is good enough.").

The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station because that was its final stop (it's amazing how buses do things like that... finally stopping at their final stop... it's poetic, really.
I'd jump off (because, unlike the old folks, I wasn't didn't have limit myself to hopping) for my short vacation.
With my suitcase I'd walk (I done got to remind everybody that this is a poem, by inverting a line or two each stanza)
up the long street I'd stalk (I wasn't really stalking anyone or anything, but I started rhyming lines three and four back in the third stanza, and decided to go with it -- and "stalk" and "walk" rhyme)
for the next leg of my destination (okay, I know that journeys have legs, and destinations don't, but I already used "journey" in my title and as Dan Barfly was wont to say "Close enough is good enough).

Soon Marta bus 32 would come along (it just kinda moseyed on up -- not like it had a schedule or anything)
with correct change I could jump on (folks who needed to break a dollar had to walk up the steps like a peon).
Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park (see, I can do alliteration, too!)
watching city lights flash through the dark (most city streets are brightly lit, but Atlanta was trying to cut back on their electric bill that year)
the sensation was like being stoned (especially because I'd been dropping acid all evening).

Ansley Mall at the top of the hill was my last stop (because I'd made half a dozen stops along the way, but left them out of the poem due to spatial limitations)
so I'd ring the bell (Ting-a-ling-ling!).
I'd had a fine trip even if it did try my patience (and that big guy punched me in the mouth when I tried to use the bus latrine that was situated right beside his seat)
now it was time to slip
Into some peace and quiet for a spell... inside the mall... because malls are so much quieter than four-hour bus rides. Thank God for quiet mini vacations in Atlanta malls on Friday nights!
Is there a Waffle House here? Anyone know what floor the Waffle House is on?

-Will Donkey (2020)

Michael Pendragon wrote:
> Will Dockery wrote:

>
> Journey in the Past
>
> Back in 1980, a long ago time
> I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
> Get off work at five
> from Harvey Lumber and Supply
> and be in Atlanta by nine.

> The commute was billed as express
> but was often a slow ride at best.
> The bus stopped at each town
> the driver's horn would loudly sound
> the journey put my patience to the test.

> Once settled in the ride was a breeze
> my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
> I'd dash out a poem
> happy to be finally going
> knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.

> The bus rolled through little towns
> with a screeching, roaring sound.
> As the bus made the stop
> on and off folks would hop
> and soon we would again be northbound.

> The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
> I'd jump off for my short vacation.
> With my suitcase I'd walk
> up the long street I'd stalk
> for the next leg of my destination.

> Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
> with correct change I could jump on.
> Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
> watching city lights flash through the dark
> the sensation was like being stoned.

> Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
> was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
> I'd had a fine trip
> now it was time to slip
> Into some peace and quiet for a spell.

> -Will Dockery (2020)

> ----
> From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html

<snip>

Thanks again for reading and for the in-depth, I could say obsessive, commentary, Pendragon.

🙂

On Friday, December 30, 2022 at 11:40:13 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> Michael Pendragon wrote:
> > Will Dockery wrote:
>
> >
> > Journey in the Past
> >
> > Back in 1980, a long ago time
> > I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
> > Get off work at five
> > from Harvey Lumber and Supply
> > and be in Atlanta by nine.
>
> > The commute was billed as express
> > but was often a slow ride at best.
> > The bus stopped at each town
> > the driver's horn would loudly sound
> > the journey put my patience to the test.
>
> > Once settled in the ride was a breeze
> > my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
> > I'd dash out a poem
> > happy to be finally going
> > knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
>
> > The bus rolled through little towns
> > with a screeching, roaring sound.
> > As the bus made the stop
> > on and off folks would hop
> > and soon we would again be northbound.
>
> > The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
> > I'd jump off for my short vacation.
> > With my suitcase I'd walk
> > up the long street I'd stalk
> > for the next leg of my destination.
>
> > Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
> > with correct change I could jump on.
> > Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
> > watching city lights flash through the dark
> > the sensation was like being stoned.
>
> > Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
> > was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
> > I'd had a fine trip
> > now it was time to slip
> > Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
>
> > -Will Dockery (2020)
>
> > ----
> > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
> <snip>
>
> Thanks again for reading and for the in-depth, I could say obsessive, commentary, Pendragon.

That wasn't a commentary, Donkey.

That was a parody of your poem wherein the speaker self-reflexively points out his poem's flaws.

Michael Pendragon wrote:

> On Friday, December 30, 2022 at 11:40:13 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> Michael Pendragon wrote:
>> > Will Dockery wrote:
>>
>> >
>> > Journey in the Past
>> >
>> > Back in 1980, a long ago time
>> > I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
>> > Get off work at five
>> > from Harvey Lumber and Supply
>> > and be in Atlanta by nine.
>>
>> > The commute was billed as express
>> > but was often a slow ride at best.
>> > The bus stopped at each town
>> > the driver's horn would loudly sound
>> > the journey put my patience to the test.
>>
>> > Once settled in the ride was a breeze
>> > my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
>> > I'd dash out a poem
>> > happy to be finally going
>> > knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
>>
>> > The bus rolled through little towns
>> > with a screeching, roaring sound.
>> > As the bus made the stop
>> > on and off folks would hop
>> > and soon we would again be northbound.
>>
>> > The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
>> > I'd jump off for my short vacation.
>> > With my suitcase I'd walk
>> > up the long street I'd stalk
>> > for the next leg of my destination.
>>
>> > Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
>> > with correct change I could jump on.
>> > Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
>> > watching city lights flash through the dark
>> > the sensation was like being stoned.
>>
>> > Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
>> > was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
>> > I'd had a fine trip
>> > now it was time to slip
>> > Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
>>
>> > -Will Dockery (2020)
>>
>> > ----
>> > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>> > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
>> <snip>
>>
>> Thanks again for reading and for the in-depth, I could say obsessive, commentary, Pendragon.

> That wasn't a commentary

Yeah, right.

🙂

On Friday, December 30, 2022 at 10:25:31 AM UTC-5, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
>
> Journey in the Past

----
From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html

> xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
>
> -Will Donkey (2020)

You're an obsessive little motherfucker, are you not, Penhead..?

On Friday, December 30, 2022 at 4:25:09 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> On Friday, December 30, 2022 at 10:25:31 AM UTC-5, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> >
> > Journey in the Past
> ----
> From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
> > xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
> xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
> xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
> >
> > -Will Donkey (2020)
>
> You're an obsessive little motherfucker, are you not, Penhead..?

C&C, Stinko. C&C.

Zod wrote:

> On Friday, December 30, 2022 at 10:25:31 AM UTC-5, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
>>
>> Journey in the Past

> ----
> From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html

>> xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
> xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
> xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
>>
>> -Will Donkey (2020)

> You're an obsessive little motherfucker, are you not, Penhead..?

He's looking that way.

🙂

On Friday, December 30, 2022 at 6:33:11 PM UTC-5, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> On Friday, December 30, 2022 at 4:25:09 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> > On Friday, December 30, 2022 at 10:25:31 AM UTC-5, michaelmalef...@gmail.com wrote:
> > >
> > > Journey in the Past
> > ----
> > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
> > > xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
> > xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
> > xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
> > >
> > > -Will Donkey (2020)
> >
> > You're an obsessive little motherfucker, are you not, Penhead..?
> C&C

Thanks again for reading and commenting, Pendragon.

🙂

Mack A. Damia wrote:

> On Tue, 27 Dec 2022 22:33:55 +0000, will.dockery@gmail.com (W.Dockery)
> wrote:
>
>>Journey in the Past
>>
>>Back in 1980, a long ago time
>>I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
>>Get off work at five
>>from Harvey Lumber and Supply
>>and be in Atlanta by nine.
>>
>>The commute was billed as express
>>but was often a slow ride at best.
>>The bus stopped at each town
>>the driver's horn would loudly sound
>>the journey put my patience to the test.
>>
>>Once settled in the ride was a breeze
>>my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
>>I'd dash out a poem
>>happy to be finally going
>>knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
>>
>>The bus rolled through little towns
>>with a screeching, roaring sound.
>>As the bus made the stop
>>on and off folks would hop
>>and soon we would again be northbound.
>>
>>The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
>>I'd jump off for my short vacation.
>>With my suitcase I'd walk
>>up the long street I'd stalk
>>for the next leg of my destination.
>>
>>Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
>>with correct change I could jump on.
>>Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
>>watching city lights flash through the dark
>>the sensation was like being stoned.
>>
>>Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
>>was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
>>I'd had a fine trip
>>now it was time to slip
>>Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
>>
>>-Will Dockery (2020)
>>
>>----
>>From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>>https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html

> Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
> Bound":

> "I'm sittin' in the railway station
> Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
> On a tour of one night stands
> My suitcase and guitar in hand
> And every stop is neatly planned
> For a poet and a one man band."

Thanks again Mack, and happy new year to you and yours.

Coco DeSockmonkey wrote:

> On Tuesday, December 27, 2022 at 6:38:18 PM UTC-5, Mack A. Damia wrote:
>> On Tue, 27 Dec 2022 22:33:55 +0000, will.d...@gmail.com (W.Dockery)
>> wrote:
>> >Journey in the Past
>> >
>> >Back in 1980, a long ago time
>> >I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
>> >Get off work at five
>> >from Harvey Lumber and Supply
>> >and be in Atlanta by nine.
>> >
>> >The commute was billed as express
>> >but was often a slow ride at best.
>> >The bus stopped at each town
>> >the driver's horn would loudly sound
>> >the journey put my patience to the test.
>> >
>> >Once settled in the ride was a breeze
>> >my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
>> >I'd dash out a poem
>> >happy to be finally going
>> >knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
>> >
>> >The bus rolled through little towns
>> >with a screeching, roaring sound.
>> >As the bus made the stop
>> >on and off folks would hop
>> >and soon we would again be northbound.
>> >
>> >The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
>> >I'd jump off for my short vacation.
>> >With my suitcase I'd walk
>> >up the long street I'd stalk
>> >for the next leg of my destination.
>> >
>> >Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
>> >with correct change I could jump on.
>> >Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
>> >watching city lights flash through the dark
>> >the sensation was like being stoned.
>> >
>> >Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
>> >was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
>> >I'd had a fine trip
>> >now it was time to slip
>> >Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
>> >
>> >-Will Dockery (2020)
>> >
>> >----
>> >From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>> >https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
>> Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
>> Bound":
>>
>> "I'm sittin' in the railway station
>> Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
>> On a tour of one night stands
>> My suitcase and guitar in hand
>> And every stop is neatly planned
>> For a poet and a one man band."

> Many of us enjoy Simon and Garfunkel, (sp) Jake.

> The contrast between their lyric and the

Says Michael Pendragon, the delusional fuckwit who has fantasies about being a better poet than T.S. Eliot.

🙂

On Saturday, December 31, 2022 at 4:10:13 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> Coco DeSockmonkey wrote:
>
> > On Tuesday, December 27, 2022 at 6:38:18 PM UTC-5, Mack A. Damia wrote:
> >> On Tue, 27 Dec 2022 22:33:55 +0000, will.d...@gmail.com (W.Dockery)
> >> wrote:
> >> >Journey in the Past
> >> >
> >> >Back in 1980, a long ago time
> >> >I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
> >> >Get off work at five
> >> >from Harvey Lumber and Supply
> >> >and be in Atlanta by nine.
> >> >
> >> >The commute was billed as express
> >> >but was often a slow ride at best.
> >> >The bus stopped at each town
> >> >the driver's horn would loudly sound
> >> >the journey put my patience to the test.
> >> >
> >> >Once settled in the ride was a breeze
> >> >my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
> >> >I'd dash out a poem
> >> >happy to be finally going
> >> >knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
> >> >
> >> >The bus rolled through little towns
> >> >with a screeching, roaring sound.
> >> >As the bus made the stop
> >> >on and off folks would hop
> >> >and soon we would again be northbound.
> >> >
> >> >The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
> >> >I'd jump off for my short vacation.
> >> >With my suitcase I'd walk
> >> >up the long street I'd stalk
> >> >for the next leg of my destination.
> >> >
> >> >Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
> >> >with correct change I could jump on.
> >> >Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
> >> >watching city lights flash through the dark
> >> >the sensation was like being stoned.
> >> >
> >> >Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
> >> >was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
> >> >I'd had a fine trip
> >> >now it was time to slip
> >> >Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
> >> >
> >> >-Will Dockery (2020)
> >> >
> >> >----
> >> >From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> >> >https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
> >> Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
> >> Bound":
> >>
> >> "I'm sittin' in the railway station
> >> Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
> >> On a tour of one night stands
> >> My suitcase and guitar in hand
> >> And every stop is neatly planned
> >> For a poet and a one man band."
>
> > Many of us enjoy Simon and Garfunkel, (sp) Jake.
>
> > The contrast between their lyric and the
> Says Michael Pendragon, the delusional fuckwit who has fantasies about being a better poet than T.S. Eliot.

Per your request...

DAYBREAK
M.M. Pendragon
(Inspired by "Rhapsody on a Windy Night," by T.S. Eliot)

The moonlit masquerade at last is done
As music fades like stars at dawn's first kiss,
The streetlamps sputter sparks, like fireflies gone
As mad as April trees whose budded bliss
Will freeze beneath the season's final snow.

While through the quiet streets, the gentle glow
Of morning amber stretches sleepy arms
As taxis yawn their way past bursts of steam
That hiss through subway grates, while New York warms
Awaking from her bootblack-scented dream
To pushcart cups of joe and cigarettes.

I greet the old bronze clock at Herald Square
With ragged vagabonds, and fond regrets
Of cocktail-colored dances, unbound hair
And Cinderella eyes lost in the blur
Of midnight faces, heavy-lidded lies.

The new day beckons, Broadway buskers stir
Sweat suits give way to button shirts and ties
Newstands roll up their gates as pushbrooms sweep
The shadow-remnants of the night aside.

I wander through the crowds, too tired to sleep
Too spent to keep the pace; I opt to hide
Inside a small café, as sunbeams spill
Their contents 'cross a pigeon-feathered sky.

The morning calls, but I have had my fill
With alabaster hopes of wealth and fame
I nurse my coffee, watch the day slip by
And wonder why I'd never asked her name.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0NhytKdNLg

vs

Rhapsody on a Windy Night
T. S. Eliot - 1888-1965

Twelve o'clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions.
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.

   Half-past one,
The street-lamp sputtered,
The street-lamp muttered,
The street-lamp said, "Regard that woman
Who hesitates toward you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
You see the border of her dress
Is torn and stained with sand,
And you see the corner of her eye
Twists like a crooked pin."

   The memory throws up high and dry
A crowd of twisted things;
A twisted branch upon the beach
Eaten smooth, and polished
As if the world gave up
The secret of its skeleton,
Stiff and white.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.

   Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter."
So the hand of the child, automatic,
Slipped out and pocketed a toy that was running along the quay.
I could see nothing behind that child's eye.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one afternoon in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.

   Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp muttered in the dark.
The lamp hummed:
"Regard the moon,
La lune ne garde aucune rancune,
She winks a feeble eye,
She smiles into corners.
She smooths the hair of the grass.
The moon has lost her memory.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and eau de Cologne,
She is alone
With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain."
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets,
And female smells in shuttered rooms,
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.

   The lamp said,
"Four o'clock,
Here is the number on the door.
Memory!
You have the key,
The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair.
Mount.
The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall,
Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life."

   The last twist of the knife.

Coco DeSockmonkey wrote:

> Mack A. Damia wrote:
>>> On Tue, 27 Dec 2022 22:33:55 +0000, will.d...@gmail.com (W.Dockery)
>>> wrote:
>
>>> >Journey in the Past
>>> >
>>> >Back in 1980, a long ago time
>>> >I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
>>> >Get off work at five
>>> >from Harvey Lumber and Supply
>>> >and be in Atlanta by nine.
>>> >
>>> >The commute was billed as express
>>> >but was often a slow ride at best.
>>> >The bus stopped at each town
>>> >the driver's horn would loudly sound
>>> >the journey put my patience to the test.
>>> >
>>> >Once settled in the ride was a breeze
>>> >my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
>>> >I'd dash out a poem
>>> >happy to be finally going
>>> >knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
>>> >
>>> >The bus rolled through little towns
>>> >with a screeching, roaring sound.
>>> >As the bus made the stop
>>> >on and off folks would hop
>>> >and soon we would again be northbound.
>>> >
>>> >The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
>>> >I'd jump off for my short vacation.
>>> >With my suitcase I'd walk
>>> >up the long street I'd stalk
>>> >for the next leg of my destination.
>>> >
>>> >Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
>>> >with correct change I could jump on.
>>> >Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
>>> >watching city lights flash through the dark
>>> >the sensation was like being stoned.
>>> >
>>> >Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
>>> >was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
>>> >I'd had a fine trip
>>> >now it was time to slip
>>> >Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
>>> >
>>> >-Will Dockery (2020)
>>> >
>>> >----
>>> >From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>>> >https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
>>> Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
>>> Bound":
>>>
>>> "I'm sittin' in the railway station
>>> Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
>>> On a tour of one night stands
>>> My suitcase and guitar in hand
>>> And every stop is neatly planned
>>> For a poet and a one man band."

>> Many of us enjoy Simon and Garfunkel, (sp) Jake.

>> The contrast between their lyric and the

Like I said, says Michael Pendragon, the delusional fuckwit who has fantasies about being a better poet than T.S. Eliot.

HTH and HAND.

On Sunday, January 1, 2023 at 2:55:14 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> Coco DeSockmonkey wrote:
>
> > Mack A. Damia wrote:
> >>> On Tue, 27 Dec 2022 22:33:55 +0000, will.d...@gmail.com (W.Dockery)
> >>> wrote:
> >
> >>> >Journey in the Past
> >>> >
> >>> >Back in 1980, a long ago time
> >>> >I'd commute using Greyhound Bus Line.
> >>> >Get off work at five
> >>> >from Harvey Lumber and Supply
> >>> >and be in Atlanta by nine.
> >>> >
> >>> >The commute was billed as express
> >>> >but was often a slow ride at best.
> >>> >The bus stopped at each town
> >>> >the driver's horn would loudly sound
> >>> >the journey put my patience to the test.
> >>> >
> >>> >Once settled in the ride was a breeze
> >>> >my Jean-Luc Godard book on my knee.
> >>> >I'd dash out a poem
> >>> >happy to be finally going
> >>> >knowing for the weekend I'd be scott free.
> >>> >
> >>> >The bus rolled through little towns
> >>> >with a screeching, roaring sound.
> >>> >As the bus made the stop
> >>> >on and off folks would hop
> >>> >and soon we would again be northbound.
> >>> >
> >>> >The bus finally arrived at Atlanta Station
> >>> >I'd jump off for my short vacation.
> >>> >With my suitcase I'd walk
> >>> >up the long street I'd stalk
> >>> >for the next leg of my destination.
> >>> >
> >>> >Soon Marta bus 32 would come along
> >>> >with correct change I could jump on.
> >>> >Up Peachtree Road past Piedmont Park
> >>> >watching city lights flash through the dark
> >>> >the sensation was like being stoned.
> >>> >
> >>> >Ansley Mall at the top of the hill
> >>> >was my last stop so I'd ring the bell.
> >>> >I'd had a fine trip
> >>> >now it was time to slip
> >>> >Into some peace and quiet for a spell.
> >>> >
> >>> >-Will Dockery (2020)
> >>> >
> >>> >----
> >>> >From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> >>> >https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/05/journey-in-past.html
> >>> Very good, Will, I always enjoyed Simon and Garfunkle's "Homeward
> >>> Bound":
> >>>
> >>> "I'm sittin' in the railway station
> >>> Got a ticket for my destination, mmm
> >>> On a tour of one night stands
> >>> My suitcase and guitar in hand
> >>> And every stop is neatly planned
> >>> For a poet and a one man band."
>
> >> Many of us enjoy Simon and Garfunkel, (sp) Jake.
>
> >> The contrast between their lyric and the
> Like I said, says Michael Pendragon, the delusional fuckwit who has fantasies about being a better poet than T.S. Eliot.
>
> HTH and HAND.

Per your request...

DAYBREAK
M.M. Pendragon
(Inspired by "Rhapsody on a Windy Night," by T.S. Eliot)

The moonlit masquerade at last is done
As music fades like stars at dawn's first kiss,
The streetlamps sputter sparks, like fireflies gone
As mad as April trees whose budded bliss
Will freeze beneath the season's final snow.

While through the quiet streets, the gentle glow
Of morning amber stretches sleepy arms
As taxis yawn their way past bursts of steam
That hiss through subway grates, while New York warms
Awaking from her bootblack-scented dream
To pushcart cups of joe and cigarettes.

I greet the old bronze clock at Herald Square
With ragged vagabonds, and fond regrets
Of cocktail-colored dances, unbound hair
And Cinderella eyes lost in the blur
Of midnight faces, heavy-lidded lies.

The new day beckons, Broadway buskers stir
Sweat suits give way to button shirts and ties
Newstands roll up their gates as pushbrooms sweep
The shadow-remnants of the night aside.

I wander through the crowds, too tired to sleep
Too spent to keep the pace; I opt to hide
Inside a small café, as sunbeams spill
Their contents 'cross a pigeon-feathered sky.

The morning calls, but I have had my fill
With alabaster hopes of wealth and fame
I nurse my coffee, watch the day slip by
And wonder why I'd never asked her name.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0NhytKdNLg

vs

Rhapsody on a Windy Night
T. S. Eliot - 1888-1965

Twelve o'clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions.
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.

   Half-past one,
The street-lamp sputtered,
The street-lamp muttered,
The street-lamp said, "Regard that woman
Who hesitates toward you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
You see the border of her dress
Is torn and stained with sand,
And you see the corner of her eye
Twists like a crooked pin."

   The memory throws up high and dry
A crowd of twisted things;
A twisted branch upon the beach
Eaten smooth, and polished
As if the world gave up
The secret of its skeleton,
Stiff and white.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.

   Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter."
So the hand of the child, automatic,
Slipped out and pocketed a toy that was running along the quay.
I could see nothing behind that child's eye.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one afternoon in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.

   Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp muttered in the dark.
The lamp hummed:
"Regard the moon,
La lune ne garde aucune rancune,
She winks a feeble eye,
She smiles into corners.
She smooths the hair of the grass.
The moon has lost her memory.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and eau de Cologne,
She is alone
With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain."
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets,
And female smells in shuttered rooms,
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.

   The lamp said,
"Four o'clock,
Here is the number on the door.
Memory!
You have the key,
The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair.
Mount.
The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall,
Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life."

   The last twist of the knife.