"Those Who Came Before"

My late friend David Brooks, a.k.a. "Studebaker Dave" to so many and whom I christened "Klau Mine Dave" loved poetry and was a poet himself. He was the closest thing to Renaissance Man and polymath I have ever met and I mean that in the Leonardo Da Vinci style, not some effete, sissy-la-la urbane modern man. Dave was also the damnest finest blacksmith and mechanically-minded tinkerer I ever met. Lastly, he was a loyal friend and the closest thing to an older brother I ever had in my life. I miss him sorely but I am comforted by the personal revelation that he is okay having had an appointment with a patient and loving Creator on the night of his leaving this world. He frequently shared poetry with me and below is perhaps my favorite of Dave's poems with this one being rather ironic in light of his composing it not long before his ascension. Watch him read this poem HERE.

"Sometimes I think we walk alone

That I see the road is made of bone.

The bones of those who came before

In times of peace and times of war

I do believe they're at my door

The spirits of those who came before.

My house is built upon their tomb

Their graves are under my living room

The room in which I sit and think

And forge my visions into ink."