Sailors

[Gullivor]

Sailors

May you forever bring back the peace you find riding the easy wind and share with others.
Blessed are you who ride these calm waters on a gentle breeze.

Begotten are the ones who, shipwrecked on the shore, sail the treacherous seas on the violent gales of life.
May you forever share the peace of your anointment.

~Gully~
A sailor without a ship
20th July 2020

[solongleonard]

Sailors

May you forever bring back the peace you find riding the easy wind and share with others.
Blessed are you who ride these calm waters on a gentle breeze.

Begotten are the ones who, shipwrecked on the shore, sail the treacherous seas on the violent gales of life.
May you forever share the peace of your anointment.

~Gully~
A sailor without a ship
20th July 2020

Besodden are the ones who, shipwrecked on the shore, sail the treacherous sea on the violet flowers of life. May you forever share a piece of your appointment.

It was half past 2 on a rainy afternoon, in November 1645. Jim Tar, the rugged sea captain of the Royal Wren, arrived at Aaslund, Noregr. He was due to see his tanlegge. He had first turned up at the door as early as 1.05 on October 30th, the Anniversary of the Poet Mikael Wolkensen. Taking the local oath, "Jeg promise taeller the hole tooth", Jim explained his discourteous premature appearance with the sailing motto "I came sooner with a schooner".

They used to say of Jim "Å være pling i bollen", but he wasn't really empty-headed, instead he was a proponent of a Simple Life, one where children no longer played with soft umbrellas, and where you had to be over 18 to smoke herring. Jim sighed as he remembered the first time he went behind the school bicycle sheds and smoked! So long ago it seemed now. He missed "the days of roses of poetry and prose
And Martha all I had was you and all you had was me
There was no tomorrow
We packed away our sorrows and saved 'em for a rainy day".

As Jim settled down for the extraction of his Wisdom he generously donated the second ten minutes of this dental slot to Gully Gumless. Jim's parents had taught him to share a piece of his appointment, but, in a rare chronology, they weren't born til many years after he died. How sad he never met them. Perhaps one day but afterlife, aftershave he didn't believe in either.

Years later Jim transmogrified into Geoffrey. He had 2 pairs of socks and one t-shirt, emblazoned with the pithy local motto "Å få blod på tannen", yes this handsome rapscallion was inspired to do something but we never discovered what! He kept canvas notebooks in his Penthouse and it seems he was inspired to become Jewish and artistic.

This was the crossover with his Hero, Mikael Wolkensen, who had already become Jewish several times, a Bohemian with "is i magen". On viewing the notebooks he commented about his rival's doodling, "Det er aldri så galt at det ikke er godt for noe!". But Mikael was being generous, as wont his wont.

Gully, the local politimann was angry with Geoffrey and threw off his verbal shackles to shout Å snakke rett fra leveren. Mikael heard this nasty Jabberwocky and he was hardly the type Å ta beina på nakken!

It was WAR! Det er helt Texas! The local woman complained a lot about this and was wittily renamed by Geoffrey as the Moaning Lisa. She eventually was framed and sold for millions of dollars. Geoffrey meanwhile, stretched his smoking obsession and confronted a bedraggled besodden Gully by asking Har du røyka sokka dine?

It was a confrontational move and Mikael, a peaceful and gentle soul, was besaddened by this Turin Shroud of Events. He wished he could just ryk og reis.

It was bite i gresset. Geoffrey placed a $5 gamble, he had met his better.

The moral for all these shady, sad characters, to whom introduced I have to you, was surely "Å leve på luft og lllkjærlighet" When you meet Mikael you are so madly in love that you don’t think about anything else.

Saken er biff!!


Mikael

ps I was bored with sleeping today so I went for tant og fjas

[solongleonard]

well, if you like not my post above, here is one For The Turnstiles.


Neil Young, 75 years old, the only Right Winger whose vinyl is sometimes devinal, with CSN his Deja Vu the first 33 I ever bought, After the Goldrush the second, damn in them days I didn't know the difference between a right-winger and a goalkeeper.


"All the sailors with their seasick mamas
Hear the sirens on the shore
Singin' songs for pimps with tailors
Who charge ten dollars at the door"

[solongleonard]

~Gully~
A tailor without a slip