POEM: The Duke by John Bowie

Share this article

The Duke walks on water

downing a triple rum n’ coke.

He falls from tables, 

dancing, with a tip of his hat.

He falls…

into the arms of many girls.

They wait 

oh so eager to catch.

He doesn’t spill a drop.

. . .

He plays the field

and the field plays him.

It’s not a real-game.

He flirts with many,

toys with the chosen few,

taking home just one or two.

. . .

The Duke abides by his own rules

in politics, music and science.

The Duke has no time for dogma;

sees through the lies and facts.

The Duke eyes another place

of realities between the layers;

time, space 

and 

our place in the stars.

. . .

The Duke faced Death.

Death ran away.

. . .

The Duke plays guitar,

better than the bands he sees.

. . .

The Duke goes on,

unstoppable,

leaving me in the dust, 

free-willed, free-thinking

freestyling.

. . .

Long live the Duke.

. . .

THE END


MORE BY JOHN BOWIE


Share this article