Discussion:
17 Poems / written by Will Dockery
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Rex Hunter III
2019-07-15 08:07:29 UTC
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Some background on this thread. The "Yellow Notebook Series" was a series of sketch poems written in the Jack Kerouac Blues style, which he would write in the little spiral note pads that fit in the shirt pocket. Here's an excerpt of his explanation of these, and following that, a few of my efforts in the form, which continue through this thread, with added commentary for the Regulars of the day. Enjoy. :D
"In my system, the form of blues choruses is limited by the small page of the breastpocket notebook in which they are written, like the form of a set number of bars in a jazz blues chorus, and so sometimes the word-meaning can carry from one chorus into another, or not, just like the phrase-meaning can carry harmonically from one chorus to the other, or not, in jazz, so that, in these blues as in jazz, the form is determined by time, and by the musicians spontaneous phrasing & harmonizing with the beat of time as it waves & waves on by in measured choruses." -Jack Kerouac
Yello Notebook Series by Will Dockery
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…

Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Will Dockery
2019-07-19 00:54:19 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Rex Hunter III
Some background on this thread. The "Yellow Notebook Series" was a series of sketch poems written in the Jack Kerouac Blues style, which he would write in the little spiral note pads that fit in the shirt pocket. Here's an excerpt of his explanation of these, and following that, a few of my efforts in the form, which continue through this thread, with added commentary for the Regulars of the day. Enjoy. :D
"In my system, the form of blues choruses is limited by the small page of the breastpocket notebook in which they are written, like the form of a set number of bars in a jazz blues chorus, and so sometimes the word-meaning can carry from one chorus into another, or not, just like the phrase-meaning can carry harmonically from one chorus to the other, or not, in jazz, so that, in these blues as in jazz, the form is determined by time, and by the musicians spontaneous phrasing & harmonizing with the beat of time as it waves & waves on by in measured choruses." -Jack Kerouac
Yello Notebook Series by Will Dockery
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Thanks for the endorsement, Zod.

:)
Rex Rodroth Jr.
2019-07-19 06:16:29 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Good read ....
Will Dockery
2019-07-19 18:40:43 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Thanks for the endorsement, Zod.

;)
Rod Riprock Jr.
2019-07-19 21:46:07 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Thanks for the endorsement, Zod.
;)
Good read ..
Will Dockery
2019-07-20 11:31:43 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Rex Hunter III
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Good read ..
Thanks again for reading and commenting, and for the nod, Zod.

:)
Rod Riprock Jr.
2019-07-20 21:44:17 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rex Hunter III
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Good read ..
Thanks again for reading and commenting, and for the nod, Zod.
:)
Excellent collection of poems yeah....
Rod Riprock Jr.
2019-07-20 01:24:58 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Thanks for the endorsement, Zod.
;)
That's a right on Doc....
Rod Riprock Jr.
2019-07-22 02:56:49 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Thanks for the endorsement, Zod.
;)
Good read Doc....

I am sipping a wine and reading these 17 poems now at my tent o9n the river....

Like is indeed a grand thing.....
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-22 04:02:35 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Rod Riprock Jr.
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Thanks for the endorsement, Zod.
;)
Good read Doc....
I am sipping a wine and reading these 17 poems now at my tent o9n the river....
Like is indeed a grand thing.....
Good God, Plod! I hope someone puts you out of your misery very soon. No one should have to exist with such a miserable quality of life (or "like").
Rod Riprock Jr.
2019-07-22 08:32:40 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Rod Riprock Jr.
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Thanks for the endorsement, Zod.
;)
Good read Doc....
I am sipping a wine and reading these 17 poems now at my tent o9n the river....
Life is indeed a grand thing.....
Good God, Plod! I hope someone puts you out of your misery very soon. No one should have to exist with such a miserable quality of life (or "like").
Why sir... I am living the life of the Dharma Bum....

Have you not read Jack Kerouac...??
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 22:19:57 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Rod Riprock Jr.
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Thanks for the endorsement, Zod.
;)
Good read Doc....
I am sipping a wine and reading these 17 poems now at my tent o9n the river....
Like is indeed a grand thing.....
Thanks again, General Zod, good to see the thread getting back to poetry rater than Pastor Corey's stoned one-liners.

;)
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 22:22:18 UTC
Reply
Permalink
LOL. Pathetic, again.
NancyGene
2019-07-24 22:23:07 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
Thanks again, General Zod, good to see the thread getting back to poetry rater than Pastor Corey's stoned one-liners.
That's what Zid is having for dinner tonight--rotisserie rater. What wine goes with rat?
Will Dockery
2019-07-23 02:51:59 UTC
Reply
Permalink
No contradiction at all, most of us know that Zod has a drinking problem.
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-23 04:33:59 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
No contradiction at all, most of us know that Zod has a drinking problem.
Here is what you wrote:

"Sure, Zod is a heavy drinker, but your description of him is a misrepresentation:"

You were directly responding to my having called Bunny an "alcoholic" (as evinced by your opening clause).

You can now spend the next 6 months back pedaling and pretending that you meant to take issue with my having called him "illiterate," but that isn't what you'd written.

And, FWIW, Bunny's posts go much farther in proving his illiteracy than any such statement on my part.
Will Dockery
2019-07-23 04:40:03 UTC
Reply
Permalink
No, I wrote that your statement misrepresented Zod... which it did.
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-23 11:28:58 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
No, I wrote that your statement misrepresented Zod... which it did.
Like I said.
Will Dockery
2019-07-23 13:11:45 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
No, I wrote that your statement misrepresented Zod... which it did.
Like I said.
an ignorant, illiterate, alcoholic
<snip>

Sure, Zod is a heavy drinker, but your description of him is a misrepresentation:

http://youtu.be/nla61NcT9Wo

"The KALEIDOSCOPE Show with host Will Dockery. Special guest artist [Zod]. "KALEIDOSCOPE" is an art show featuring local artists from the Chattahoochee Valley and surrounding areas. Created and produced by Rusty Wood for EATV 7, Phenix City Cable-TV..."

;)
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-23 13:18:04 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
No, I wrote that your statement misrepresented Zod... which it did.
Like I said.
an ignorant, illiterate, alcoholic
<snip>
http://youtu.be/nla61NcT9Wo
"The KALEIDOSCOPE Show with host Will Dockery. Special guest artist [Zod]. "KALEIDOSCOPE" is an art show featuring local artists from the Chattahoochee Valley and surrounding areas. Created and produced by Rusty Wood for EATV 7, Phenix City Cable-TV..."
Do you understand that when you begin a sentence with "Sure, Zod is a heavy drinker, but..." the remainder of the sentence would necessarily seek to mitigate the specified charge?

No, of course you don't, because you learned how to compose an intelligible sentence.
Will Dockery
2019-07-23 13:24:33 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
No, I wrote that your statement misrepresented Zod... which it did.
Like I said.
an ignorant, illiterate, alcoholic
<snip>
http://youtu.be/nla61NcT9Wo
"The KALEIDOSCOPE Show with host Will Dockery. Special guest artist [Zod]. "KALEIDOSCOPE" is an art show featuring local artists from the Chattahoochee Valley and surrounding areas. Created and produced by Rusty Wood for EATV 7, Phenix City Cable-TV..."
Do you understand that when you begin a sentence with "Sure, Zod is a heavy drinker, but..."
But I think it is obvious Zod is not "ignorant" or "illiterate".
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-23 13:26:37 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
No, I wrote that your statement misrepresented Zod... which it did.
Like I said.
an ignorant, illiterate, alcoholic
<snip>
http://youtu.be/nla61NcT9Wo
"The KALEIDOSCOPE Show with host Will Dockery. Special guest artist [Zod]. "KALEIDOSCOPE" is an art show featuring local artists from the Chattahoochee Valley and surrounding areas. Created and produced by Rusty Wood for EATV 7, Phenix City Cable-TV..."
Do you understand that when you begin a sentence with "Sure, Zod is a heavy drinker, but..."
But I think it is obvious Zod is not "ignorant" or "illiterate".
And it is, no doubt, understandable that you should think so.
Will Dockery
2019-07-23 13:31:01 UTC
Reply
Permalink
http://youtu.be/nla61NcT9Wo
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
"The KALEIDOSCOPE Show with host Will Dockery. Special guest artist [Zod]. "KALEIDOSCOPE" is an art show featuring local artists from the Chattahoochee Valley and surrounding areas. Created and produced by Rusty Wood for EATV 7, Phenix City Cable-TV..."
Do you understand that when you begin a sentence with "Sure, Zod is a heavy drinker, but..."
But I think it is obvious Zod is not "ignorant" or "illiterate".
And it is, no doubt, understandable that you should think so.
Okay, that's true for probably several reasons.
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-23 13:49:51 UTC
Reply
Permalink
LOL
Will Dockery
2019-07-23 22:57:43 UTC
Reply
Permalink
LOL
You're smoking that good weed again today, Pastor Corey?

;)
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-23 23:02:22 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Sorry, no, just laughing.
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 22:33:04 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Rod Riprock Jr.
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Thanks for the endorsement, Zod.
;)
Good read Doc....
I am sipping a wine and reading these 17 poems now at my tent o9n the river....
Like is indeed a grand thing.....
Thanks again, General Zod, good to see the thread getting back to poetry rather than Pastor Corey's stoned one-liners.

(My "h" key keeps dropping out, I'll need to keep an eye on that, thanks for the heads-up, N.G.)

;)
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 23:18:34 UTC
Reply
Permalink
My SHIFT key sticks.
Rex Entwhistle
2019-07-24 23:42:36 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rod Riprock Jr.
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Thanks for the endorsement, Zod.
;)
Good read Doc....
I am sipping a wine and reading these 17 poems now at my tent o9n the river....
Like is indeed a grand thing.....
Thanks again, General Zod, good to see the thread getting back to poetry rather than Pastor Corey's stoned one-liners.
(My "h" key keeps dropping out, I'll need to keep an eye on that, thanks for the heads-up, N.G.)
;)
Pastor Corey only cares about his own poetry, you know that....

He has never reviewed a single poem of mine, not a one....
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 23:48:45 UTC
Reply
Permalink
In truth, I don't recall reading a single poem of yours, not a one.
Of course that doesn't mean I don't care about you as a person.
I do wish you weren't an incorrigible, homeless, drunken derelict.
Rex Entwhistle
2019-07-24 23:52:59 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Hieronymous Corey
In truth, I don't recall reading a single poem of yours, not a one.
Why not read and comment on a few then...?? ?
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-25 00:07:20 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Why post edit my comment, and disregard most of what I said?
Why do you call yourself a 'poet' when you're really just a drunk?
Why do you want me to 'review' your 'poetry' in the first place?

You would likely be just as selective of anything I had to say,
listening to only that which you want to hear, and not gaining
anything from the experience, or the exchange. That's why.
Rex Entwhistle
2019-07-25 00:10:35 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Good evening Hieronymous Corey.....

I posted 5 or 6 of my poems here for you to read and comment on....

I did this for your poetry after all...

Now it is your turn to return the favor... eh..?? ?
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-25 00:15:04 UTC
Reply
Permalink
You've done me no favors. I owe you absolutely nothing.
Will Dockery
2019-07-21 04:15:09 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Thanks for reading and commenting, General Zod.
Rod Riprock Jr.
2019-07-21 08:45:39 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
Thanks for reading and commenting, General Zod.
They make a good read at the riverside camp fire...
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-21 18:30:56 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Rod Riprock Jr.
Post by Will Dockery
Thanks for reading and commenting, General Zod.
They make a good read at the riverside camp fire...
Bravo, Plod!

With that one semi-sentence, you've summed up FF's poems in a nutshell: "They make a good read at [the local hobo camp]..."
Will Dockery
2019-07-21 20:11:21 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Michael Pendragon
With that one semi-sentence, you've summed up FF's poems in a nutshell: "They make a good read at [the local hobo camp]..."
I would expect my poetry to be an enjoyable read anywhere.

;)
Rod Riprock Jr.
2019-07-21 21:18:05 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Michael Pendragon
With that one semi-sentence, you've summed up FF's poems in a nutshell: "They make a good read at [the local hobo camp]..."
I would expect my poetry to be an enjoyable read anywhere.
;)
Indeed so, my friend, indeed so I daresay.....
Peter J Ross
2019-07-21 21:54:29 UTC
Reply
Permalink
In alt.arts.poetry.comments on Sun, 21 Jul 2019 13:11:21 -0700 (PDT),
Post by Will Dockery
I would expect my poetry to be an enjoyable read anywhere.
Do you also expect your drunken vomit to provide a nutritious meal?
--
PJR :-)

τὸν οἰόμενον νόον ἔχειν ὁ νουθετέων ματαιοπονεῖ.
- Democritus
Will Dockery
2019-07-22 00:40:00 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Peter J Ross
In alt.arts.poetry.comments on Sun, 21 Jul 2019 13:11:21 -0700 (PDT),
Post by Will Dockery
I would expect my poetry to be an enjoyable read anywhere.
Do you also expect
<snip>

No, I already wrote above what I would expect.

Try to keep up.

;)
Rod Riprock Jr.
2019-07-23 03:33:38 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Peter J Ross
Do you also expect your drunken vomit
Real boozers never throw up, you British twit....
Will Dockery
2019-07-22 04:12:35 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Zod doesnt seem miserable... but you do, Pendragon.

;)
Will Dockery
2019-07-22 17:02:43 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Rod Riprock Jr.
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Rod Riprock Jr.
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Thanks for the endorsement, Zod.
;)
Good read Doc....
I am sipping a wine and reading these 17 poems now at my tent o9n the river....
Life is indeed a grand thing.....
Good God, Plod! I hope someone puts you out of your misery very soon. No one should have to exist with such a miserable quality of life (or "like").
Why sir... I am living the life of the Dharma Bum....
Have you not read Jack Kerouac...??
Or "Walden":

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walden

"Walden (/ˈwɔːldən/; first published as Walden; or, Life in the Woods) is a book by transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau. The text is a reflection upon simple living in natural surroundings..."

"By immersing himself in nature, Thoreau hoped to gain a more objective understanding of society through personal introspection. Simple living and self-sufficiency were Thoreau's other goals, and the whole project was inspired by transcendentalist philosophy, a central theme of the American Romantic Period..."
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-22 17:44:20 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rod Riprock Jr.
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Rod Riprock Jr.
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Thanks for the endorsement, Zod.
;)
Good read Doc....
I am sipping a wine and reading these 17 poems now at my tent o9n the river....
Life is indeed a grand thing.....
Good God, Plod! I hope someone puts you out of your misery very soon. No one should have to exist with such a miserable quality of life (or "like").
Why sir... I am living the life of the Dharma Bum....
Have you not read Jack Kerouac...??
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walden
"Walden (/ˈwɔːldən/; first published as Walden; or, Life in the Woods) is a book by transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau. The text is a reflection upon simple living in natural surroundings..."
"By immersing himself in nature, Thoreau hoped to gain a more objective understanding of society through personal introspection. Simple living and self-sufficiency were Thoreau's other goals, and the whole project was inspired by transcendentalist philosophy, a central theme of the American Romantic Period..."
Thoreau spent two years living in *a house* in the woods by Walden Pond, in order to concentrate more fully on his writing. It was approx. a mile and a half from the nearest town.

This is hardly on a level with being an unemployed, homeless pissbum residing in a hobo camp.


Michael Pendragon
“Well, knowing Sulzbach as I do, I was pleasantly surprised he decided to spend the money on something other than booze and drugs. Or beer, wine, weed or hookers... ”
-- Wee Whiny Willie Dockery, quintessential dumb fuck, pissbum
Will Dockery
2019-07-22 19:29:10 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rod Riprock Jr.
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Rod Riprock Jr.
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Thanks for the endorsement, Zod.
;)
Good read Doc....
I am sipping a wine and reading these 17 poems now at my tent o9n the river....
Life is indeed a grand thing.....
Good God, Plod! I hope someone puts you out of your misery very soon. No one should have to exist with such a miserable quality of life (or "like").
Why sir... I am living the life of the Dharma Bum....
Have you not read Jack Kerouac...??
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walden
"Walden (/ˈwɔːldən/; first published as Walden; or, Life in the Woods) is a book by transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau. The text is a reflection upon simple living in natural surroundings..."
"By immersing himself in nature, Thoreau hoped to gain a more objective understanding of society through personal introspection. Simple living and self-sufficiency were Thoreau's other goals, and the whole project was inspired by transcendentalist philosophy, a central theme of the American Romantic Period..."
Thoreau spent two years living in *a house* in the woods by Walden Pond, in order to concentrate more fully on his writing. It was approx. a mile and a half from the nearest town.
This is hardly on a level with
The biggest difference is that Zod lives in a tent.

It does relate, whether you accept that or not.

:)
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-22 19:48:08 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rod Riprock Jr.
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Rod Riprock Jr.
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Rex Hunter III
Poem One
A Creature Of The Age
Turn it
to the wall,
and let it cook.
Get removed from it.
"When's it done?"
"How do you know
when sex is done?"
Photographic
from memory,
gestural sketches
of thought.
In the museum theatre,
soft light,
recently seen good paint.
moving, moved at, moving with,
everything agitates---.
Cannot be a photograph,
to match,
this memory.
The way I see it inside.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Two
Coil
This coil of pain
memory burns
with flashing image
and haunting misses.
Distinct dream vision
mixed up with consciousness
train seems right on top of me
conductor has an agenda.
Only the god see beyond this veil
I seen them eyes
red blazing shaking.
No time to think,
no desire to.
There seems to be a wide awake
slow ride
consciousness carries
stretches through these years
these days... this minute.
As if the night could purify
rather than corrupt
my reptilian hands
my repetition in signs.
-Will Dockery
Poem Three
Commodore
What was it you said
that rang out to me yesterday
and when did you say it
and why---?
I don't really know,
when or why or even what now.
But it has hurt,
and it has affected our future,
whatever that may or may not have been.
-Will Dockery
Poem Four
Diver Days
Crosslegged, she sits.
Red wine, friends.
Mellowness & memories.
*** *** ***
She seems
to have a crisis of faith,
but she's also sort of a
prima dona it seems.
A bit absurd with it.
Seems to be
doing better on this one,
this faster rocking gospel plow;
needing to use less octaves.
It's got the crowd
up and clapping,
Brother Dave almost jumps.
*** *** ***
Is it important,
or really?
Just go right through it.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Five
Empty Signal.
Comet tail.
Fuzzy tones,
impressionistic world vision.
Sitting by the fountain,
they used to call it "poet's fountain".
Bookless, moneyless,
filled with love,
filled with empty hope.
I was going to the mountain,
but when I got there it faded away.
troubles surround me,
at the poet's fountain.
They double and fold,
almost everyday.
Sitting in a chilled room,
FDR teaching mathematics,
kind but quietly menacing.
-Will Dockery
Poem Six
Head Trip
Look at that girl---
her mind is spinning---
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
riding in the dark.
She's rock and roll
piece of the past
and she has plenty of class.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
this that and the other.
Look at that girl---
peace on her face,
and she loves.
It was her head trip,
and it was her trip.
A head trip,
strong coffee with sugar & cream.
-Will Dockery
Poem Seven
Light & Chill
The light and the chill
at the top of the hill
feeling the flow
when the wind blows
geometric rooftops
illumination light rocks.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eight
Little S & G
Smile. Grin.
Dark eyes. Bright eyes.
Night and day and many shades of
in between.
Slime. Green.
Key lime and the key to my heart.
Red, gold, and smut black child.
No eyes,
my blind little dancing girl,
pirouette my heart.
Simile. Grain.
My seeds search for yolk.
Words are hard when the subject is
night day and many shades of
in between.
-Will Dockery
Poem Nine
Off The Cuff Part Two
Enforced distance,
I've known her for a while.
But I could never love her,
I'll never know her smile.
Because she can't see me
and I can not see her.
She just lives around the way,
but the distance could not be further.
And I can not explain that,
can not be really written in a book.
She is like an ancient soul mate,
she has such a distant look.
If I had the courage,
I'd ask her why she don't seem to like me.
But like I'm sometimes known to do
I'll just wait and see.
Off the cuff,
I cry secret tears for you.
Off the cuff,
couldn't take a rejection from you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Ten
Sixties Dream Movie
I fell asleep,
don't know what I had ate,
I dreamed, the hour was late.
It was 1968,
when comix were great,
I was ten but I left like eight,
back in La Grange when I didn't know my fate.
Went back to the times,
when grass was green,
imaginary friends that would say what they mean.
I had a barn outside my Grandaddy's house,
could look out the window and see distant cows.
Surrounded by safety
and my unchained creativity,
a million miles from adult insanity.
My Granddaddy came out to get me,
he was on a softball team and wanted me to see,
they were playing across the way at Tatumville School,
I hoped someday I could be as cool.
We strolled across and saw the crowd,
hot dogs, children playing, the racket was loud.
Several games, teams of different ages,
groups and skill of all phases and stages.
And further still out by the trees,
a voice singing out that I could hardly believe.
It was a friend I would know thirty years later,
a stand up guy I haven't met one better.
I strolled over so I could say hello,
he called me up and made me part of the show,
gave me someplace to go.
All those years of dreams and art,
they all come together and I pick them apart.
Surrounded by people I am still alone
but I'm not the only rolling stone.
Have to do what I must do,
I will always keep these notes for you.
-Will Dockery
Poem Eleven
Slam The Bell
Bodeen sits in shadow,
by the bar door,
as cars rush by,
in quick eclipse.
Slam to the underground,
standing on a platform,
all the bell ringing
songs of Christmas.
World is a stage,
when your time comes up on this page,
or clear off the page,
and to the point.
Slam to the underground,
make a sound found and round,
right through the ground,
let the words roll out,
like bells.
-Will Dockery.
Poem Twelve
Soft Shadows
Soft shadows of two men,
move and evolve.
Commercialism is the word,
a fact of life.
Sometimes very pleasant.
I've been here before.
i will be here again.
Roger that.
Soft sound from the piano below,
shifts and flows.
from this dizzy height,
it's hard to see anything.
In the effort to get everything.
-Will Dockery
Poem Thirteen
Sweet Dark Memories
Sweetest smell in the air,
as i walk by an old church.
Under a canopy of Spanish moss.
The sweet queen
rustles through my memory tonight.
I stroll happy in this sweet night,
at peace at last,
at peace with the past.
I loved you dear lady,
unlike any other love,
and those pleasures are mine alone,
no one can take or share them.
I can never go home,
7th Avenue does not exist in this world.
Let's take it down to a new level,
take it down to sea level.
I am the pirate prince of Shadowville,
walking through sweet smoke and fog,
following a certain music!
-Will Dockery
Poem Fourteen
This Little Game
Well
this is one
of the damnedest
little games
I've ever
been in.
No way out
not even
inside.
Will the
mist lift
will the
shade shift.
-Will Dockery
Poem Fifteen
to Samantha.
Hello Samantha,
seems to have been a while,
it HAS been a long time rising.
Ceramic Bird Sam,
fly to the blue all I am.
Oak and acorn,
progressive forward.
Brandy and smiles,
in the gathering twilight.
Never again.
There's lots of reason,
to keep this under wraps.
But now is the time for me,
to say just a bit.
I have loved you,
and I must let you know.
I should make that go,
owe it to myself,
and you too.
Daylight comes
and still I hesitate...
And I wonder,
how long it will wait,
before it is too late?
Sincerely,
W. Dockery.
-Will Dockery
Poem Sixteen
Weasel Blues
Weasel cringes,
Weasel winces,
watch Weasel out
straddling fences.
Diving under tables,
avoiding his senses.
(That's what he's doing!)
-Will Dockery
Poem Seventeen
When
When the mill shut down,
we hit the pavement with a thud,
then we all got up and kept walking.
Some to the work house,
some to the poor house,
some to the whorehouse,
and the grave.
-Will Dockery
--
Poetry & Music of Will Dockery
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Good for a long read by the foggy river and camp fire...…
Wine and cigar well earned today.....
Thanks for the endorsement, Zod.
;)
Good read Doc....
I am sipping a wine and reading these 17 poems now at my tent o9n the river....
Life is indeed a grand thing.....
Good God, Plod! I hope someone puts you out of your misery very soon. No one should have to exist with such a miserable quality of life (or "like").
Why sir... I am living the life of the Dharma Bum....
Have you not read Jack Kerouac...??
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walden
"Walden (/ˈwɔːldən/; first published as Walden; or, Life in the Woods) is a book by transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau. The text is a reflection upon simple living in natural surroundings..."
"By immersing himself in nature, Thoreau hoped to gain a more objective understanding of society through personal introspection. Simple living and self-sufficiency were Thoreau's other goals, and the whole project was inspired by transcendentalist philosophy, a central theme of the American Romantic Period..."
Thoreau spent two years living in *a house* in the woods by Walden Pond, in order to concentrate more fully on his writing. It was approx. a mile and a half from the nearest town.
This is hardly on a level with
The biggest difference is that Zod lives in a tent.
It does relate, whether you accept that or not.
It's not even remotely the same. On the one hand, you've got a published writer seeking solitude in order to gather his thoughts and create his next book vs a chronically unemployed, perpetually drunken, emotionally disturbed pissbum who's living in a hobocamp.


Michael Pendragon
“Well, knowing Sulzbach as I do, I was pleasantly surprised he decided to spend the money on something other than booze and drugs. Or beer, wine, weed or hookers... ”
-- Wee Whiny Willie Dockery, quintessential dumb fuck, pissbum
Will Dockery
2019-07-22 20:15:58 UTC
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Two very different people but a very similar situation for an artist to be in.
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-22 20:34:43 UTC
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Post by Will Dockery
Two very different people but a very similar situation for an artist to be in.
No, it isn't.

Thoreau chose to spend two years in his friend and colleague's cabin in order to work on his writing undistracted by the cares of the world -- the result of which was one of the great literary works of its day (and an enduring classic).

Bunny is an ignorant, illiterate, alcoholic pissbum whose only purpose in life is to beg for cigarettes, drugs and bum wine until he dies from the combined results exposure to the elements, liver failure and numerous festering bum sores.
Will Dockery
2019-07-22 20:42:39 UTC
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Post by Michael Pendragon
an ignorant, illiterate, alcoholic
<snip>

Sure, Zod is a heavy drinker, but your descrption of him i a misrepresentation:



"The KALEIDOSCOPE Show with host Will Dockery. Special guest artist [Zod]. "KALEIDOSCOPE" is an art show featuring local artists from the Chattahoochee Valley and surrounding areas. Created and produced by Rusty Wood for EATV 7, Phenix City Cable-TV.
Will Dockery
2019-07-22 21:14:00 UTC
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Post by Michael Pendragon
an ignorant, illiterate, alcoholic
<snip>

Sure, Zod is a heavy drinker, but your description of him is a misrepresentation:

http://youtu.be/nla61NcT9Wo

"The KALEIDOSCOPE Show with host Will Dockery. Special guest artist [Zod]. "KALEIDOSCOPE" is an art show featuring local artists from the Chattahoochee Valley and surrounding areas. Created and produced by Rusty Wood for EATV 7, Phenix City Cable-TV..."
Rod Riprock Jr.
2019-07-22 23:41:48 UTC
Reply
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Post by Will Dockery
Post by Michael Pendragon
an ignorant, illiterate, alcoholic
<snip>
http://youtu.be/nla61NcT9Wo
"The KALEIDOSCOPE Show with host Will Dockery. Special guest artist [Zod]. "KALEIDOSCOPE" is an art show featuring local artists from the Chattahoochee Valley and surrounding areas. Created and produced by Rusty Wood for EATV 7, Phenix City Cable-TV..."
Thanks Doc.....
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-23 02:37:58 UTC
Reply
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Post by Will Dockery
Post by Michael Pendragon
an ignorant, illiterate, alcoholic
<snip>
Anyone who gets "blackout drunk" and bashes his buddy in the head with a metal pipe is an alcoholic.
Rod Riprock Jr.
2019-07-23 03:14:26 UTC
Reply
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Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Michael Pendragon
an ignorant, illiterate, alcoholic
<snip>
Anyone who gets "blackout drunk" and bashes his buddy in the head with a metal pipe is an alcoholic.
I have never denied being an alcoholic.....

That is what I signed up at the VA Hospital to try and remedy....
Will Dockery
2019-07-23 02:39:48 UTC
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No argument there, Pendragon.
Dental River
2019-07-23 02:45:57 UTC
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Post by Will Dockery
No argument there, Pendragon.
"Do I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself." -Walt Whitman

"Huh? When?" -Will Dockery
Will Dockery
2019-07-23 03:26:26 UTC
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Exactly, Zod.

;)
Will Dockery
2019-07-23 23:14:35 UTC
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Laughter is the best medicine, as the one-liner goes.

;)
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-23 23:26:59 UTC
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Hate will kill you from the inside out.
Rex Entwhistle
2019-07-23 23:32:10 UTC
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Post by Hieronymous Corey
Hate will kill you from the inside out.
I believe that to be true....

Do you believe in Karma, pastor Corey...?? ?
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-23 23:36:52 UTC
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Are you drunk, again?? ?
Rex Entwhistle
2019-07-23 23:41:19 UTC
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Post by Hieronymous Corey
Are you drunk, again?? ?
Sipping some wine....

Far from drunk......
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-23 23:48:50 UTC
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No, you're drunk. Sipping a little wine for you is really drunk for most people.
Just because you're not falling down drunk doesn't mean you're not drunk.
You're obviously too drunk to drive, operate machinery, or make good decisions.
Rex Entwhistle
2019-07-24 03:32:38 UTC
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Post by Hieronymous Corey
No, you're drunk. Sipping a little wine for you is really drunk for most people.
Just because you're not falling down drunk doesn't mean you're not drunk.
You're obviously too drunk to drive, operate machinery, or make good decisions.
You have no idea what you are talking about really....

People like you all hopped up on dope are just as dangerous or even worse...

Look at the Reefer Madness film to see the dangers of weed Pastor Corey...
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 08:48:50 UTC
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Ginseng?
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 15:44:57 UTC
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Post by Hieronymous Corey
Hate will kill you from the inside out.
Loading Image...
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 00:44:36 UTC
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You can tell how drunk a man is from just a one-liner post, Pastor Corey?

Amazing...
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 00:51:20 UTC
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I know, right?
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 01:37:49 UTC
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Good to see you haven't lost your psycho abilities, Pastor Corey.

;)
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 02:36:23 UTC
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Good to see you still have your psychic abilities, Pastor Corey.

:)
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 15:52:03 UTC
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What you call my 'psychic abilities' are
really just astute observations and a
little knowledge of human psychology
filtered through years of experience.
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 15:57:29 UTC
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Post by Hieronymous Corey
What you call my 'psychic abilities' are
really just astute observations and a
little knowledge of human psychology
filtered through years of experience.
I was referring to your own past claims of being a psychic, a Tarot card reader, and so on.
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 16:22:55 UTC
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Yes, of course. Do you know what cold reading is?
Okay, so that's me. I'm just a good cold reader.
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 16:59:47 UTC
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Post by Hieronymous Corey
Yes, of course. Do you know what cold reading is?
Okay, so that's me. I'm just a good cold reader.
Okay, I can go along with that.
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 17:06:43 UTC
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Well, alright then. It certainly is good to know that you can go along with that. LOL.
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 17:10:49 UTC
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Post by Hieronymous Corey
Well, alright then. It certainly is good to know that you can go along with that. LOL.
Yes, I agree.

;)
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 17:15:48 UTC
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Well of course you do.
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 20:06:41 UTC
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Post by Hieronymous Corey
Well of course you do
You wrote:

"Yes, of course. Do you know what cold reading is?
Okay, so that's me. I'm just a good cold reader."

Why shouldn't I agree?
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-24 20:15:50 UTC
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Post by Will Dockery
Post by Hieronymous Corey
Well of course you do
"Yes, of course. Do you know what cold reading is?
Okay, so that's me. I'm just a good cold reader."
Why shouldn't I agree?
What part of "of course you do" are you not getting?
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 20:33:47 UTC
Reply
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Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Hieronymous Corey
Well of course you do
"Yes, of course. Do you know what cold reading is?
Okay, so that's me. I'm just a good cold reader."
Why shouldn't I agree?
What part of "of course you do"
Why does it matter to you?
Michael Pendragon
2019-07-24 20:36:22 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Hieronymous Corey
Well of course you do
"Yes, of course. Do you know what cold reading is?
Okay, so that's me. I'm just a good cold reader."
Why shouldn't I agree?
What part of "of course you do"
Why does it matter to you?
Poke. Poke.
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 20:41:10 UTC
Reply
Permalink
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Michael Pendragon
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Hieronymous Corey
Well of course you do
"Yes, of course. Do you know what cold reading is?
Okay, so that's me. I'm just a good cold reader."
Why shouldn't I agree?
What part of "of course you do"
Why does it matter to you?
Poke. Poke.
At least you are honest about being a troll, Pendragon.

:)
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 20:45:34 UTC
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What part of 'of course you do' do you not get?
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 20:54:50 UTC
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Post by Hieronymous Corey
What part of 'of course you do' do you not get?
I already answered that, Pastor Corey.

;)
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 21:07:05 UTC
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LOL. I don't think so, but if you say so, okay.
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 21:10:28 UTC
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okay
If you say so.

;)
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 21:30:41 UTC
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LOL. Pathetic.
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 21:40:56 UTC
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Another one of your cold readings, Pastor Corey?
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 22:05:51 UTC
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No. I meant your response was pathetic,
as opposed to logical or ethical. My bad.
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 22:10:54 UTC
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Post by Hieronymous Corey
No. I meant your response was
Yes, of course. Do you know what cold reading is?
Okay, so that's me. I'm just a good cold reader.
Okay, I can go along with that.

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

Which I can.

;)
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 22:13:05 UTC
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LOL. It's pretty hilarious that you
think a summary was necessary.
Will Dockery
2019-07-24 22:15:17 UTC
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Post by Hieronymous Corey
LOL. It's pretty hilarious that you
think a summary was necessary
I put it on context for future readers.

:)
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-24 22:17:28 UTC
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LOL. Well of course you did.
Will Dockery
2019-07-25 00:40:51 UTC
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Sorry, Pastor Corey, your psychic abilities are a little off tonight.

;)
Will Dockery
2019-07-25 00:21:44 UTC
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Bullshit, Corey.

A comment, good or bad, is of interest to the poet.

;)
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-25 00:28:10 UTC
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Tag team, again? LOL.
You two are hilarious.
ME
2019-07-25 00:37:13 UTC
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Post by Hieronymous Corey
Tag team, again? LOL.
You two are hilarious.
They are one and a half of a kind aren’t they?!!!
Rex Entwhistle
2019-07-25 04:10:51 UTC
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Post by Hieronymous Corey
Tag team, again? LOL.
You two are hilarious.
Good evening Pastor Corey....

Smoking that good dope tonight...?? ?

Will Dockery
2019-07-25 00:30:25 UTC
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In my opinion, of course.

:)
Hieronymous Corey
2019-07-25 00:34:04 UTC
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Of course you can only speak for yourself,
and everybody knows you crave attention,
whether it's good, bad or indifferent. LOL
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