Discussion:
Problems at Salisbury Fair / Will Dockery (2nd Draft)
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Will Dockery
2013-04-02 09:41:59 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Problems at Salisbury Fair

Playing a gambit
but still playing it straight.
Sent a fluffgirl downstairs
shaking her pompador.
Silver badged shadow boxing lady cop,
she carries a gun.
She sits at the piano with a song
tight as a nun.
Clicking her flashlight
working old mimeograph.
We face our reflections
in the city of fishbowls.
Smoking with a journalist
over by the window.
Drinking strange mead
hesitates on delivery.
Working underground
flimflaming in the fog.
Picking minds
for breakfast couplets.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

Crabbed picture reflects
as she inspects herself.
Winter is rugged
on the frail apple-tree.
Wrinkled man in a snow cap
hip shaking
through Spanish Moss.

She quietly turns and runs,
from a silly basement bar.
Too much fun, it was mostly a waste.
Helped her stagger to her trailer
after drinking beer and sniffing paste.
Some of this and a lot of that
she shakes her tits with tats.
Grinning from the stage
with her over sized dentures.
Clicked her door to the night
shutting out new adventures.
Tight lipped little loser
stapling his chapbooks.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

Clicked his flashlight
asked was it him or them.
Saw the bloody handprint
no flatlander expectations.
One gone before she was born
the other never born at all
they only exist because
she remembers them.

He's wound tight
by she who intoxicates.
The stone bag empty,
Sampson follows the thunder.
Press her hands back
she's flat on her back again.
Kiss the space
her face is open wide.
Stars sparkle bittersweet,
dripping from
these bearded lips.
Boss burbled gobbledegook
chewing treacled tobaco.
He feeds on her mind like a vulture
as she cries out jargon.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

-Will Dockery
THE COLONEL
2013-04-02 16:26:31 UTC
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Raw Message
I just fixed yer problem, chippy.
Will Dockery
2013-04-03 16:20:14 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by THE COLONEL
I just fixed yer problem, chippy.
While the rest of us fix bigger ones:

Join The Shadowville All-Stars at approximately 5:20 on April 27th as we add
our bit to the "Smoky Conflusion" that is Hogbottom;...

https://www.facebook.com/events/5460531721066...

Will Dockery and comrades Brian Mallard (guitar), Jack Snipe (guitar), John
Phillips (bass), Eric Gunter (drums) & Patricia Suddeth (tambourine) rock
out for the House of Heroes.

"The Shadowville All-Stars provide the musical canvas for the word paintings
of Will Dockery, the Poet Laureate of Shadowville. The group represents a
vision for a multi-faceted arts ensemble... Individually, we are a
dozen-or-so merry pranksters who rotate in and out of the lineup at
different venues. Collectively we are The Shadowville All-Stars. Artists who
share the stage with us in a live performance become Shadowville All-Stars
forever. It's kind of like the Baseball Hall-of-Fame, only you can't kicked
out for gambling..." -Dennis Beck
Will Dockery
2013-05-27 17:45:12 UTC
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Raw Message
Why be a condescending little shit if you don't have to be is what I
always say to myself in situations that might best be addressed
without condescension.
Ah, but the kicker is "if you don't have to be".
a) Read and study the subject
b) Act like a condescending shit
If, like qwazy qwerty and his kind, one wants to be thought an expert,
but is too lazy or stupid to do (a), then one has to do (b).
I'm just saying. You do what you will. Whatever works.
4. Copy EXTENSIVE amounts of Wikipedia into your own Wikia without
properly crediting or attributing.
5. Post Cohen's work as your own.
If those are meant to be additions to the above list (it's hard to
tell, since "4." doesn't normally follow "(b)"), they look like
extremely poor ones. For one thing, they assume that no one else knows
how to use a search engine.

But if you know of someone who's tried either one (I don't), you could
always cite their experience.

Interesting that almost everywhere we turn this morning Leonard Cohen is
there... truly our spiritual guide in all matters of popetics and workers in
song.

Anyway, as cleared up, the use of Leonard Cohen referred to was in the
experiments with "Glosa Poetry", which is based on quoting another poet's
work to form the basis of the poem.

And now, as promised for Gwyneth and possible "C & C" (yours would be most
welcomed as well, George, or anyones, even self-described "vermin" like PJR,
heh...


Problems at Salisbury Fair / Will Dockeryby Will Dockery (Notes) on
Thursday, May 9, 2013 at 7:28
https://www.facebook.com/notes/will-dockery/problems-at-salisbury-fair-will-dockery/10151597259974802

Problems at Salisbury Fair

Playing a gambit
but still playing it straight.
Sent a fluffgirl downstairs
shaking her pompador.
Silver badged shadow boxing lady cop,
she carries a gun.
She sits at the piano with a song
tight as a nun.
Clicking her flashlight
working old mimeograph.
We face our reflections
in the city of fishbowls.
Smoking with a journalist
over by the window.
Drinking strange mead
hesitates on delivery.
Working underground
flimflaming in the fog.
Picking minds
for breakfast couplets.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

Crabbed picture reflects
as she inspects herself.
Winter is rugged
on the frail apple-tree.
Wrinkled man in a snow cap
hip shaking
through Spanish Moss.

She quietly turns and runs,
from a silly basement bar.
Too much fun, it was mostly a waste.
Helped her stagger to her trailer
after drinking beer and sniffing paste.
Some of this and a lot of that
she shakes her tits with tats.
Grinning from the stage
with her over sized dentures.
Clicked her door to the night
shutting out new adventures.
Tight lipped little loser
stapling his chapbooks.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

Clicked his flashlight
asked was it him or them.
Saw the bloody handprint
no flatlander expectations.
One gone before she was born
the other never born at all
they only exist because
she remembers them.

He's wound tight
by she who intoxicates.
The stone bag empty,
Sampson follows the thunder.
Press her hands back
she's flat on her back again.
Kiss the space
her face is open wide.
Stars sparkle bittersweet,
dripping from
these bearded lips.
Boss burbled gobbledegook
chewing treacled tobaco.
He feeds on her mind like a vulture
as she cries out jargon.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

-Will Dockery
Will Dockery
2014-11-30 20:32:57 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
dreck into newsgroups
As if the "man" who posts garbage like "Point & Click" and "Fake Relatives"
here has any room to whine, PJR?
neither wanted
And since you're not wanted here, that means yu'll be leaving soon, PJR?

<poem unsnipped>

Problems at Salisbury Fair

Playing a gambit
but still playing it straight.
Sent a fluffgirl downstairs
shaking her pompador.
Silver badged shadow boxing lady cop,
she carries a gun.
She sits at the piano with a song
tight as a nun.
Clicking her flashlight
working old mimeograph.
We face our reflections
in the city of fishbowls.
Smoking with a journalist
over by the window.
Drinking strange mead
hesitates on delivery.
Working underground
flimflaming in the fog.
Picking minds
for breakfast couplets.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

Crabbed picture reflects
as she inspects herself.
Winter is rugged
on the frail apple-tree.
Wrinkled man in a snow cap
hip shaking
through Spanish Moss.

She quietly turns and runs,
from a silly basement bar.
Too much fun, it was mostly a waste.
Helped her stagger to her trailer
after drinking beer and sniffing paste.
Some of this and a lot of that
she shakes her tits with tats.
Grinning from the stage
with her over sized dentures.
Clicked her door to the night
shutting out new adventures.
Tight lipped little loser
stapling his chapbooks.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

Clicked his flashlight
asked was it him or them.
Saw the bloody handprint
no flatlander expectations.
One gone before she was born
the other never born at all
they only exist because
she remembers them.

He's wound tight
by she who intoxicates.
The stone bag empty,
Sampson follows the thunder.
Press her hands back
she's flat on her back again.
Kiss the space
her face is open wide.
Stars sparkle bittersweet,
dripping from
these bearded lips.
Boss burbled gobbledegook
chewing treacled tobaco.
He feeds on her mind like a vulture
as she cries out jargon.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

-Will Dockery
Cujo DeSockpuppet
2014-11-30 21:36:55 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Will Dockery
dreck into newsgroups
As if the "man" who posts garbage like "Point & Click" and "Fake
Relatives" here has any room to whine, PJR?
I find it hilarious that you laughably attempt to upbraid others for
posting garbage. It's far too easy to point out your hypocrisy. Look! You
even did it it in your post. I've flushed the Dreckery, in both senses of
the word, to spare the readers.
Post by Will Dockery
neither wanted
And since you're not wanted here, that means yu'll be leaving soon, PJR?
I want him here. It's always a good idea to have someone with taste in
poetry here, as well as integrity, to ensure the scum are kept in line.

Have a problem with accountability? Is there a history of this?
Post by Will Dockery
<poem unsnipped>
[pome reflushed]
--
Cujo - The Official Overseer of Kooks and Trolls in dfw.*,
alt.paranormal, alt.astrology and alt.astrology.metapsych. Supreme Holy
Overlord of alt.fucknozzles. Winner of the 8/2000, 2/2003 & 4/2007 HL&S
award. July 2005 Hammer of Thor. Winning Trainer - Barbara Woodhouse
Memorial Dog Whistle - 12/2005 & 4/2008. COOSN-266-06-01895.
"An award that you PAID FOR! 2nd place out of TWO BOOKS! That means
you won FIRST LOSER and LAST PLACE both at the same time!" - Edmo
the loser has to face the reality of his loserdom.
Will Dockery
2014-12-01 00:54:20 UTC
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Raw Message
Post by Cujo DeSockpuppet
Post by Will Dockery
As if the "man" who posts garbage like "Point & Click" and "Fake
Relatives" here has any room to whine, PJR?
I find it hilarious
<snipped opinionated bs>

Yes, PJR's garbage can sometimes be unintentionally hilarious.

--
Check out "Twilight Girl / Will Dockery & Henry Conley -
http://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/17680972-twilight-girl-w-dockery--h-conley
Will Dockery
2014-12-01 00:59:10 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Cujo DeSockpuppet
I want him here. It's always a good idea to have someone with taste in
poetry here, as well as integrity, to ensure the scum are kept in line.
Piggy has taste? More accurately, a pretense to the same.
He's a poseur. You're not a poet and, as far as I can determine from your
posts, not the sort one would speak of as "cultured,"
Not to mention apparently too shy to back up his claims of being a "better
singer" than I am.
so it's easy to see why you should be taken in.
Piggy purports, Kevin is awed.
Take it from one with clearer vision: the "emperor" isn't merely naked,
he's a Bornean "Henry VIII" hog.
Now that's kind of hilarious.
--
Check out "Twilight Girl / Will Dockery & Henry Conley -
http://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/song/17680972-twilight-girl-w-dockery--h-conley
Will Dockery
2014-12-14 11:47:21 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Cujo DeSockpuppet
Have a problem with accountability
Yeah, we noticed your problems with accountability when nyou backed out of
posting the recording of your singing, and then tried to pretend it never
happened.

Glad we got that all clear, though.
--
Check out "Gone Too Far / Will Dockery -
http://www.reverbnation.com/open_graph/song/11596860
Will Dockery
2014-12-16 12:05:01 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Will Dockery
<poem unsnipped>
[pome reflushed]

Never mind, the poem is archived, you can't erase it.

HTH & HAND.
--
Check out "Red Lipped Stranger / Will Dockery & Shadowville All-Stars" -
http://www.reverbnation.com/open_graph/song/8798203
Will Dockery
2015-01-01 23:51:21 UTC
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Raw Message
Post by Cujo DeSockpuppet
And since you're not wanted here, that means you'll be leaving soon, PJR?
I want him here.
We know... maybe the two of you should get a room?
--
"Autograph of Zorro / Black Eagle Lady" written by W. Dockery, H. Conley &
M.H. Benders:



Note: This is the authorized posting of this video. Duplications unless by
the above named collaborators are without permission and are Copyright
violations.
Will Dockery
2015-01-01 23:51:21 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Cujo DeSockpuppet
And since you're not wanted here, that means you'll be leaving soon, PJR?
I want him here.
We know... maybe the two of you should get a room?
--
"Autograph of Zorro / Black Eagle Lady" written by W. Dockery, H. Conley &
M.H. Benders:

http://youtu.be/X2XfA8Zg3Lw

Note: This is the authorized posting of this video. Duplications unless by
the above named collaborators are without permission and are Copyright
violations.
Peter J Ross
2015-01-03 16:08:01 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
In alt.arts.poetry.comments on Thu, 1 Jan 2015 18:51:21 -0500, Will
Post by Will Dockery
Post by Cujo DeSockpuppet
And since you're not wanted here, that means you'll be leaving soon, PJR?
I want him here.
We know... maybe the two of you should get a room?
How many times are you going to reply to a single post from November
2014, google-grepping clown?
--
PJR :-)
... τὸ διδάξασθαι δέ τοι
εἰδότι ῥᾴτερον· ἄγνωμον δὲ τὸ μὴ προμαθεῖν·
κουφότεραι γὰρ ἀπειράτων φρένες. (Pindar)
Will Dockery
2015-01-22 17:14:38 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
You've never written a haiku.
Sure I have, PJR, here is my "Three Haiku" poem:

Three Haiku / Will Dockery

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

Moonlit Mile

So many tears on a moonlit mile
through Aokigahara forest
old man tips his snow cap.

-Will Dockery

Sandy makes me think of a haiku, though unfinished.

Bluebird
on white snow
shivers her timbers.

-Will Dockery

and

Iron Butterfly
comes to mind
1970s breeze.

-Will Dockery

http://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
Will Dockery
2015-01-03 20:21:44 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Again... I'd love to sit here for another hour answering all your trollishly
whining and jealous posts, but I'm due in Auburn to perform in a while.

I'll get back with you losers later.

Have a nice day... heh.
--
In this corridor of memory & dream we call life, a splendid 2015 to all my
friends family & comrades in arts.
http://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/songs
— at The Shadowville All-Stars.
Peter J Ross
2015-01-03 22:39:06 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
In alt.arts.poetry.comments on Sat, 3 Jan 2015 15:21:44 -0500, Will
Post by Will Dockery
Again... I'd love to sit here for another hour answering all your trollishly
whining and jealous posts, but I'm due in Auburn to perform in a while.
I'll get back with you losers later.
Have a nice day... heh.
The Dreckster is turning into chuckles lysaght.

Presumably all the pretty nurses of Auburn will wave to him as he
passes.
--
PJR :-)
... τὸ διδάξασθαι δέ τοι
εἰδότι ῥᾴτερον· ἄγνωμον δὲ τὸ μὴ προμαθεῖν·
κουφότεραι γὰρ ἀπειράτων φρένες. (Pindar)
Will Dockery
2015-01-09 14:50:55 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Presumably all the pretty nurses of Auburn will wave to him as he passes.
And you act like that's a bad thing?
--
"Game of the Century: Batman, Dylan and Mr. Spock on the triple decker chess
set!"
http://www.reverbnation.com/open_graph/song/8798203
Will Dockery
2015-01-18 17:55:46 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Cujo DeSockpuppet
Post by Will Dockery
<poem unsnipped>
[pome reflushed]
Jealous much, Cujo?

And no, all your snipping and post-editing in the world will not make the
poem "go away".

<poem unsnipped yet again>

Problems at Salisbury Fair

Playing a gambit
but still playing it straight.
Sent a fluffgirl downstairs
shaking her pompador.
Silver badged shadow boxing lady cop,
she carries a gun.
She sits at the piano with a song
tight as a nun.
Clicking her flashlight
working old mimeograph.
We face our reflections
in the city of fishbowls.
Smoking with a journalist
over by the window.
Drinking strange mead
hesitates on delivery.
Working underground
flimflaming in the fog.
Picking minds
for breakfast couplets.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

Crabbed picture reflects
as she inspects herself.
Winter is rugged
on the frail apple-tree.
Wrinkled man in a snow cap
hip shaking
through Spanish Moss.

She quietly turns and runs,
from a silly basement bar.
Too much fun, it was mostly a waste.
Helped her stagger to her trailer
after drinking beer and sniffing paste.
Some of this and a lot of that
she shakes her tits with tats.
Grinning from the stage
with her over sized dentures.
Clicked her door to the night
shutting out new adventures.
Tight lipped little loser
stapling his chapbooks.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

Clicked his flashlight
asked was it him or them.
Saw the bloody handprint
no flatlander expectations.
One gone before she was born
the other never born at all
they only exist because
she remembers them.

He's wound tight
by she who intoxicates.
The stone bag empty,
Sampson follows the thunder.
Press her hands back
she's flat on her back again.
Kiss the space
her face is open wide.
Stars sparkle bittersweet,
dripping from
these bearded lips.
Boss burbled gobbledegook
chewing treacled tobaco.
He feeds on her mind like a vulture
as she cries out jargon.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

-Will Dockery
Will Dockery
2015-01-03 20:01:18 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
I apparently know more about it than you do, such as the fact that I own
the copyrights the poetry I wrote.
What poetry you wrote?
Since you asked, I'll present some of my recent poetry here.

For starters, try this:

Problems at Salisbury Fair

Playing a gambit
but still playing it straight.
Sent a fluffgirl downstairs
shaking her pompador.
Silver badged shadow boxing lady cop,
she carries a gun.
She sits at the piano with a song
tight as a nun.
Clicking her flashlight
working old mimeograph.
We face our reflections
in the city of fishbowls.
Smoking with a journalist
over by the window.
Drinking strange mead
hesitates on delivery.
Working underground
flimflaming in the fog.
Picking minds
for breakfast couplets.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

Crabbed picture reflects
as she inspects herself.
Winter is rugged
on the frail apple-tree.
Wrinkled man in a snow cap
hip shaking
through Spanish Moss.

She quietly turns and runs,
from a silly basement bar.
Too much fun, it was mostly a waste.
Helped her stagger to her trailer
after drinking beer and sniffing paste.
Some of this and a lot of that
she shakes her tits with tats.
Grinning from the stage
with her over sized dentures.
Clicked her door to the night
shutting out new adventures.
Tight lipped little loser
stapling his chapbooks.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

Clicked his flashlight
asked was it him or them.
Saw the bloody handprint
no flatlander expectations.
One gone before she was born
the other never born at all
they only exist because
she remembers them.

He's wound tight
by she who intoxicates.
The stone bag empty,
Sampson follows the thunder.
Press her hands back
she's flat on her back again.
Kiss the space
her face is open wide.
Stars sparkle bittersweet,
dripping from
these bearded lips.
Boss burbled gobbledegook
chewing treacled tobaco.
He feeds on her mind like a vulture
as she cries out jargon.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

-Will Dockery

Thanks for requesting my poetry... now go have a nice day.
--
In this corridor of memory & dream we call life, a splendid 2015 to all my
friends family & comrades in arts.
http://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery/songs
— at The Shadowville All-Stars.
Will Dockery
2015-01-04 10:49:34 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Message-IDs for my other replies
<slap>

Do you /ever/ ask yourself who, besides you and a couple of your slurping
gang, care one bit about this silliness?

<poem unsnipped>

Problems at Salisbury Fair

Playing a gambit
but still playing it straight.
Sent a fluffgirl downstairs
shaking her pompador.
Silver badged shadow boxing lady cop,
she carries a gun.
She sits at the piano with a song
tight as a nun.
Clicking her flashlight
working old mimeograph.
We face our reflections
in the city of fishbowls.
Smoking with a journalist
over by the window.
Drinking strange mead
hesitates on delivery.
Working underground
flimflaming in the fog.
Picking minds
for breakfast couplets.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

Crabbed picture reflects
as she inspects herself.
Winter is rugged
on the frail apple-tree.
Wrinkled man in a snow cap
hip shaking
through Spanish Moss.

She quietly turns and runs,
from a silly basement bar.
Too much fun, it was mostly a waste.
Helped her stagger to her trailer
after drinking beer and sniffing paste.
Some of this and a lot of that
she shakes her tits with tats.
Grinning from the stage
with her over sized dentures.
Clicked her door to the night
shutting out new adventures.
Tight lipped little loser
stapling his chapbooks.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

Clicked his flashlight
asked was it him or them.
Saw the bloody handprint
no flatlander expectations.
One gone before she was born
the other never born at all
they only exist because
she remembers them.

He's wound tight
by she who intoxicates.
The stone bag empty,
Sampson follows the thunder.
Press her hands back
she's flat on her back again.
Kiss the space
her face is open wide.
Stars sparkle bittersweet,
dripping from
these bearded lips.
Boss burbled gobbledegook
chewing treacled tobaco.
He feeds on her mind like a vulture
as she cries out jargon.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.

-Will Dockery

And... so it went.
--
"I offer a toast to the undiscovered country... the future." -Chancellor
Gorkon
Check out "Red Lipped Stranger / Will Dockery & Shadowville All-Stars" -
http://www.reverbnation.com/open_graph/song/8798203
Peter J Ross
2015-01-06 19:38:07 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
In alt.arts.poetry.comments on Sun, 4 Jan 2015 05:49:34 -0500, Will
References: .... <m89hpp$k0g$***@dont-email.me>

Oh no, Peter J Ross didn't write!

Why do you lie about everything, douchebag?

<spamsnip>
--
PJR :-)
... τὸ διδάξασθαι δέ τοι
εἰδότι ῥᾴτερον· ἄγνωμον δὲ τὸ μὴ προμαθεῖν·
κουφότεραι γὰρ ἀπειράτων φρένες. (Pindar)
Will Dockery
2015-01-22 18:05:32 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Peter J Ross
Oh no, Peter J Ross didn't write!
No, nobody says you don't write, PJR, just that the poetry that results is
so God awful.
--
See The Shadowville All-Stars (Jack Snipe, Rob Wright & Brian Mallard)
live & in person at Cirque Eclectrix with Gabriel Holland on Friday,
February 13 at 9:00pm at Soho Bar & Grill - Columbus,Georgia. Check out
"Chattahoochee Sunset" / Will Dockery & The Shadowville All-Stars -
http://www.reverbnation.com/open_graph/song/11459910
Will Dockery
2015-01-04 10:15:10 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Will Dockery
Problems at Salisbury Fair
Playing a gambit
but still playing it straight.
Sent a fluffgirl downstairs
shaking her pompador.
Silver badged shadow boxing lady cop,
she carries a gun.
She sits at the piano with a song
tight as a nun.
Clicking her flashlight
working old mimeograph.
We face our reflections
in the city of fishbowls.
Smoking with a journalist
over by the window.
Drinking strange mead
hesitates on delivery.
Working underground
flimflaming in the fog.
Picking minds
for breakfast couplets.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.
Crabbed picture reflects
as she inspects herself.
Winter is rugged
on the frail apple-tree.
Wrinkled man in a snow cap
hip shaking
through Spanish Moss.
She quietly turns and runs,
from a silly basement bar.
Too much fun, it was mostly a waste.
Helped her stagger to her trailer
after drinking beer and sniffing paste.
Some of this and a lot of that
she shakes her tits with tats.
Grinning from the stage
with her over sized dentures.
Clicked her door to the night
shutting out new adventures.
Tight lipped little loser
stapling his chapbooks.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.
Clicked his flashlight
asked was it him or them.
Saw the bloody handprint
no flatlander expectations.
One gone before she was born
the other never born at all
they only exist because
she remembers them.
He's wound tight
by she who intoxicates.
The stone bag empty,
Sampson follows the thunder.
Press her hands back
she's flat on her back again.
Kiss the space
her face is open wide.
Stars sparkle bittersweet,
dripping from
these bearded lips.
Boss burbled gobbledegook
chewing treacled tobaco.
He feeds on her mind like a vulture
as she cries out jargon.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.
-Will Dockery
dear god that was terrible
that was so terrible I think it gave my computer cancer
Good Lord is right... that was pure Dink!

Oh, the nostalgia... heh.
--
The Shadowville All-Stars at Doo Nanny, from the archives. Would sure like
to do it again with our 2015 line-up (Jack Snipe, Rob Wright, Gary
Frankfurth & Brian Mallard). Any word on the status of Doo-Nanny this year,
Phil Cheney, Rob Seven, Ralph A. Frank Jr.?

— with Christy Cabaron-Fowler and 2 others at Doo Nanny.
Will Dockery
2015-01-05 15:03:30 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Post by Will Dockery
Problems at Salisbury Fair
Playing a gambit
but still playing it straight.
Sent a fluffgirl downstairs
shaking her pompador.
Silver badged shadow boxing lady cop,
she carries a gun.
She sits at the piano with a song
tight as a nun.
Clicking her flashlight
working old mimeograph.
We face our reflections
in the city of fishbowls.
Smoking with a journalist
over by the window.
Drinking strange mead
hesitates on delivery.
Working underground
flimflaming in the fog.
Picking minds
for breakfast couplets.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.
Crabbed picture reflects
as she inspects herself.
Winter is rugged
on the frail apple-tree.
Wrinkled man in a snow cap
hip shaking
through Spanish Moss.
She quietly turns and runs,
from a silly basement bar.
Too much fun, it was mostly a waste.
Helped her stagger to her trailer
after drinking beer and sniffing paste.
Some of this and a lot of that
she shakes her tits with tats.
Grinning from the stage
with her over sized dentures.
Clicked her door to the night
shutting out new adventures.
Tight lipped little loser
stapling his chapbooks.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.
Clicked his flashlight
asked was it him or them.
Saw the bloody handprint
no flatlander expectations.
One gone before she was born
the other never born at all
they only exist because
she remembers them.
He's wound tight
by she who intoxicates.
The stone bag empty,
Sampson follows the thunder.
Press her hands back
she's flat on her back again.
Kiss the space
her face is open wide.
Stars sparkle bittersweet,
dripping from
these bearded lips.
Boss burbled gobbledegook
chewing treacled tobaco.
He feeds on her mind like a vulture
as she cries out jargon.
Shakes her Dickinson hair
Strolling by Salisbury Fair.
-Will Dockery
dear god that was terrible
that was so terrible I think it gave my computer cancer
On mine, the hard drive got floppy.
Too many cookies, perhaps...
Will Dockery
2015-04-12 20:20:38 UTC
Permalink
Raw Message
Jeez, dude. Fix that fucking FAQ. It's FAQing terrible.
Try this one...
You aren't interesting enough to have a Will Dockery FAQ.
Although there was this one once......
https://groups.google.com/forum/#!msg/rec.arts.poems/uyEqK6_s-Ss/dx39BhvUkPoJ
Interesting stuff... Cujo, if you're out there, your Soul Mate, Dink has
just about as creepy an interest in my personal life as you do.

:D
So what exactly do you live on?
Read this slowly, Cujo, so we don't have to keep repeating it.

Your excessive interest in my personal life, which is irrelevant in a Poetry
newsgroup, is noted, Cujo.

Some here have called questions like these you ask to be "stalking", iirc,
that group included your friend Peter J. Ross.

Now, of you check the archives, I used to mention things like where I
worked, where I live, and so on. I stopped doing that a number of years ago
after readers on here actually began calling the places where I worked and
harassing them, and in at least on case, a poster threatened to actually
come to where I was working to do me harm.

So, I've always worked and always will, but those details are not your
concern, as you probably already know, deep downm inside, somewhere.

:D

Focus on my poetry, my music, on how you claim to be a "better singer" than
me, but all the personal, Real Life questions are out of bounds, for obvious
reasons some stated above and others beside.

And, of course, the simple answer is my personal life is simply none of your
business, just as yours is none of mine.

All clear now, Cujo?

:D
--
"You provide the prose poems, I'll provide the war." -Orson Welles

Check out "Red Lipped Stranger / Will Dockery & Shadowville All-Stars" -
http://www.reverbnation.com/open_graph/song/8798203
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