New Year's Poem - ala' H.H.

My good friend did indeed miss much chivalry and good times at Fort DeSoto this New Years. He wrote this lament. Read on...





My New Years

By Maya Angelou*

**********************************

Darish, blond aviator stares up at yonder sky
cracked blue with tints of birds
Not hours passed since green young men
in their own flesh colored suits
did sit upon bucket and crates
in a building with barely walls.
To this building under construction they did gaze,
at yonder portapotty at the airport which the elders call
Pensacola Regional.
For their own mates forsook them,
to travel far and wide
to see kin and the like
at parts unknown.
And like assholes,
caused the base to close.

Not these brave souls,
whose unbridaled passion for their
beloved mother sky
did they cling.
Not tempted by drink,
nor flesh,
nor the sublime sundries of lifelong friends.

This imperfect day
did the aviatiors sit in said unimproved conditions
to breif a flight that was not to be.
No!.....
Hark!
Was
That
The
Fuel
Truck?
?
Fuckballs!

Alas it went by,
so no fuel to be had
to feed the aluminum bird
that carried the young aviators so free and high,
like a negro,
minus the free part.

Day Two
And the knights of the sky sat.
The impenatrable fog a blanket that caressed them
and smelled of farts.
Too,
that day, not one aluminum food processor
did take to the sky
And the foppish navy skipper
did say,
"Yonder bar, Gents?"

Day Three
And all made
reconcilliation to thy maker
for indescretion and many unnatural acts
of such night prior
Avast!

Day Four

Was a sky so dark most of the airdales
did stay in the sack
and there was much
sinful touching of ones self.
So thine lord's holiday
passes without myrth.
With longing for good and merry times
and drinking merry brew
and setting merry fires
and merry fornication with merry small furry creatures
and beating old people
with merry in our hearts.
Oh regret,
like the aftertaste
when you kissa 20$ french whore
who smokes.
How he longs to be
with his friends
in cheer and good times,
and with purity of essence
for all mankind.
The Fuckin End

Mahalo, Bitches. The pics look great. I wish i could have been there
Next year, if i am not in Iraq.

H.H. -Poet Lauriat of Uzbekistan