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YND 9: I Knew Them

May 7, 2018



We’ve heard that it’s hard to rock a rhyme that’s right on time. In fact, it’s tricky. So how will our hosts do as they face their first week of compulsory rhyme? There’s only two ways to find out, either you listen to this show or you ask a friend to do it for you. The former seems easier.


This week also featured a piece from listener Ian. Thank you Ian.


If anyone is curious about the origin of the river metaphor that Ben referenced, it's attributed to Heraclitus, a Greek philosopher born in 544 b.c.


“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.”







The Trireme


180 oars 

180 grasping pairs of hands

180 griping points of view 

180 demands.





The River


She’s married now, bought a house 

In a town that we called shitty


She has grown her blonde hair long 

And moved up to the city


I don’t know what he’s up to now 

But he’s eased up on the weed


She’s got a deal for that same book 

I never tried to read 


He’s got friends I cannot stand

He’s gone to work for lallemand


She’s married now, he looks like me 

She met him and now they’re three


Though I kicked and splashed about

The water moved when I got out

I think I knew them once before 

I do not know them anymore





I’d love to tell 

you in that frame

That you grew up

But you’ve stayed the same.

Here, there’s been change,

And I’ve tried looking to blame,

Findings ways to explain --

It doesn’t help.


So I look at you

And I’ll just do my best.

It’s strange, 

to see you smiling 


Staying the same.





Skip, Little Pebble



Skip, skip, skip little pebble,

stay afloat and never drop.

Plucked, Surveyed, approved,

then hurled, to skim atop


the murky waters. Until

it fades of strength and will,

loses hope and sinks,

lost in the beach once more.


No pebble was the same,

the speckles are similar

and the subtle, smooth frame

almost identical. Almost.


There never used to be an aim,

but now, a small island I spotted,

after I threw my blackened, speckled

pebble, is the object of my game.


None shall keep their distance

from the depths it seems.

All lost in the mix, betwixt

the blackened pebble and I.



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