> Will Dockery wrote:
> Ballad Of The Ugly Girl.
>
> She'd spin like some whirling dervish,
> all this sitting still was making me nervous.
> Had not had my cigarette,
> and my nose had been bleeding.
> My lady was in the hospital, sadder than you could imagine.
> So I walked out,
> comforted by the images that confronted me in Bibb City.
> I'm thinking about that ugly girl I once held to me,
> thinking of dogwood blooms and Spanish moss
> I don't see any more.
> She ate like a bird since she was overwieght,
> she sat and complained to a friend about the coffee.
>
> She'd gone and hung these rugs all over her living room,
> and she looked like she'd been crying.
> Standing downstairs I heard some guy tell her something;
> some words about being "all brothers of the economy".
> I was thinking and smoking,
> who was this guy and why was I even here?
>
> Saturday Blue is like a cold day in Hell,
> she's a poet but all she does is show it.
> In the rain and the cold, like we were told,
> cancer, bittersweet cancer in the ruins.
> She woke up like she'd just been fucked,
> I woke up with cigarettes, toothpaste and coffee.
> I knew at that point she'd spiral,
> but I didn't know it would double back to haunt me.
> Grampa told me in a dream:
> "It don't do no good to cry on Dillingham Bridge."
> This is a dream, this is Hell,
> this is the rest of your life.
>
> -Will Dockery (c)2003

Ballad Of The Ugly Girl.

She'd spin like some whirling dervish,
all this sitting still was making me nervous.
Had not had my cigarette,
and my nose had been bleeding.
My lady was in the hospital, sadder than you could imagine.
So I walked out,
comforted by the images that confronted me in Bibb City.
I'm thinking about that ugly girl I once held to me,
thinking of dogwood blooms and Spanish moss
I don't see any more.
She ate like a bird since she was overweight,
she sat and complained to a friend about the coffee.

She'd gone and hung these rugs all over her living room,
and she looked like she'd been crying.
Standing downstairs I heard some guy tell her something;
some words about being "all brothers of the economy".
I was thinking and smoking,
who was this guy and why was I even here?

Saturday Blue is like a cold day in Hell,
she's a poet but all she does is show it.
In the rain and the cold, like we were told,
cancer, bittersweet cancer in the ruins.
She woke up like she'd just been f**ked,
I woke up with cigarettes, toothpaste and coffee.
I knew at that point she'd spiral,
but I didn't know it would double back to haunt me.
Grampa told me in a dream:
"It don't do no good to cry on Dillingham Bridge."
This is a dream, this is Hell,
this is the rest of your life.

-Will Dockery

(Early, almost forgotten poetry from 1995)

Will-Dockery wrote:

>

> Ballad Of The Ugly Girl.

> She'd spin like some whirling dervish,
> all this sitting still was making me nervous.
> Had not had my cigarette,
> and my nose had been bleeding.
> My lady was in the hospital, sadder than you could imagine.
> So I walked out,
> comforted by the images that confronted me in Bibb City.
> I'm thinking about that ugly girl I once held to me,
> thinking of dogwood blooms and Spanish moss
> I don't see any more.
> She ate like a bird since she was overweight,
> she sat and complained to a friend about the coffee.

> She'd gone and hung these rugs all over her living room,
> and she looked like she'd been crying.
> Standing downstairs I heard some guy tell her something;
> some words about being "all brothers of the economy".
> I was thinking and smoking,
> who was this guy and why was I even here?

> Saturday Blue is like a cold day in Hell,
> she's a poet but all she does is show it.
> In the rain and the cold, like we were told,
> cancer, bittersweet cancer in the ruins.
> She woke up like she'd just been f**ked,
> I woke up with cigarettes, toothpaste and coffee.
> I knew at that point she'd spiral,
> but I didn't know it would double back to haunt me.
> Grampa told me in a dream:
> "It don't do no good to cry on Dillingham Bridge."
> This is a dream, this is Hell,
> this is the rest of your life.

> -Will Dockery

> (Early, almost forgotten poetry from 1995)

>
>

Interestingly obscure...