BRUNK HOWARD


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taking it easy

In a valley where people gawk.

Dogs don’t do small talk.

Hawks fly to the maths of Bach.

Grey herons can’t be mocked.


Crows circle and congregate

Loop de loop and tailgate

Times it’s hard to endure the wait

For zero time on your circle of fate.


All the guns ready and cocked

Redemption, an orphan

A` la Alfred Hitchcock.

On a hill through a narrow slit in a wall

Bullets shoot out, shooters call.

Target practice, shot after shot.

Sail over a road with ne’re a thought

End on a hill in targets’ bulls eyes

Just like it’s been taught.


Down below the targets a leisure bench

Passed by walkers and bike riders

With hands that clench                    

On the way to revenge.


On a day in Mother may I

“Skip to my Lou,  oh do oh do”.

A man on that bench taking his ease

Bullets flying over his head oh pretty please

Sucks a cigarette  circuits a dream

Of fingers pulling a trigger scheme

Then moves his hand to a can of beer

That he sucks in oh darling you are so near,

“Skip to my Lou,  oh do oh do”.

There are none but you and you.


In this valley there are turtle doves

And hand in hand walkers in love

And walkers who duck when hearing a shot

And a figure taking it easy who does not.