Your mumbles, I understood,
as life gives us scars,
we make a choice, of what we should,
whilst saying prayers at bars,
in sincerity, and piss taking,
a friend was truly made,
New York song’s awakening,
sweet chant is on parade,
your soul goes wherever now,
doesn’t matter if you’re pious,
but surely, not just underground,
as pub-folk don’t want mires,
a barstool gangster, I still see,
calling shots, at Philly Ryan’s,
where proud loving Vikki,
is with your chosen scions.
-
Author:
AuburnScribbler (
Offline) - Published: December 3rd, 2023 10:25
- Comment from author about the poem: I thought I would write this, as a homage to him, after his recent passing. I also thought, that I would share this picture of him, with Joe Strummer and Philly Ryan, which to me sums up the loving baseness of friendship, devoid of any swift irrational judgements, that many would bestow upon him. Wherever you are, have a Guinness and a Jameson's chaser for me mate. Rest in peace Shane.
- Category: Special occasion
- Views: 6
Offline)
Comments2
Nice memorial. Sounds very apropos.
Cheers to Shane!
For we are all the same!
All the same!
Thanks for the read Eugene, and for your kind words, they're very much appreciated, and, yeah, when it comes to the nitty gritty, in particular, the fragility of humanity, I wholeheartedly agree with your three lined stanza above.
I hope that all is well.
Great tribute.
Thanks for the read Thomas, and for your short but sweet comment, it's very much appreciated.
I hope that all is well.
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