in childhood years i hadnt stood a chance
to sacred songs to dance a vulgar dance
nor walk at odds with God nor with Him twain
it seemed sufficient to commit my brain
to ponder Heaven what there good befall
or meta heaven if it is at all
thus days went on in the old house whose clock
strikes every second (strikes too much ad hoc)
beneath i slept so many domèd dreams
within its song the deathless knell it streams
i cried upon the bed one youthful night
beside my dad i cried till blisters bite
beneath my eyebags dad had heard me cry
he looked at me and saw my futile try
to puzzle out my tears they run a line
he told me everything was going fine
hes still okay its years till he should die
my tears they didnt mean this didnt i
the rest i could recall that night was sleep
my mother took me on a roaring jeep
we drove half clinging to a cliff beneath
was endless pitfall sightless certain death
the turkish driver bit on words the end
he grinned is near i heard the end impend
ten minutes passed in dead forlorn old town
and palace bricks of long gone king and clown
he parkd the car and blade and cork they whizzd
some babbling bubbles spurted out they fizzd