TWELVE
She came from Texas
Down our street
In a taxi
Blonde hair swirling
Our tiny hearts
She’s going in to number seven
I cried out to the gang
Two old people lived there
We never glanced at this house before
But all had now changed
About Me
- Jim Archer Scribbler And...
- MADE IN CORK... EXPORTED TO LONDON,PARIS AND DUBLIN IT IS FROM THE CAPITAL OF IRELAND THAT I AM ADDRESSING THE WORLD - SO PAY ATTENTION. HERE YOU WILL FIND GOOD BANTER, STORIES, LIES AND MORE LIES.MAYBE YOU MIGHT LIKE MY SHORT STORIES, LETTERS, ARTICLES OR POEMS. IF YOU LIKE WHAT YOU SEE TELL THE WORLD, IF NOT KEEP YOUR BLOODY MOUTH SHUT.
2010-07-26
2010-07-02
STENT ...
STENT
A little strip of steel stands between
Me and my Maker
Launched in a balloon
On its lonely journey
Up the wire
My circus – but without fanfare or laughs
This little strip of steel
Was spat out
Into a sea of red blood
There to rest
Until I finally rest
JIM ARCHER
A little strip of steel stands between
Me and my Maker
Launched in a balloon
On its lonely journey
Up the wire
My circus – but without fanfare or laughs
This little strip of steel
Was spat out
Into a sea of red blood
There to rest
Until I finally rest
JIM ARCHER
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)