Kaptain's Blog

The writings and musings of The Kaptain

Friday, November 21, 2008

Without Trace, By The Kaptain

For David Blackburn, wherever you are…

Did you go to ground
Harried by the hounds?
Did it seem, that day
Like the only way?

Vanish without trace…
To some quieter place…

Did they bite your heels –
Agents of ill-will?
Was it never clear
That we shared your fears?

Vanish without trace…
To a better place…

Was it stubborn pride
Made you run and hide?
Don’t you know your friends
Would have helped you then?

Vanish without trace…
To an unknown place…

You’re missed, my friend
Please send a sign
To show us you’re alive…
Return again
To make us smile –
We’ll help you to survive…

posted by Kirk at 10:32 pm  


  1. Nice one Kaptain. Lets hope Blackbum is still out there somewhere, murmering “you’re nicked mate” and arguing the merits of Coventry FC : )
    Still remember fondly the crazy indian lunches with party hats and bollywoods finest on the dvd. Ah precious memories …

    Comment by Spike — December 12, 2008 @ 10:34 am

  2. you spittin some sick beats man

    Comment by your favourite daughter — January 12, 2009 @ 8:40 am

  3. Cool!

    Im back Im back as a matter of fact I,m back!
    did you miss me? Yeh! while Ive been away,did yer hang mmy picture on your wall/ Did yer miss me? Yeh……………wel Im back. fresh from my failed ‘New Gary Glitter Band’ Tour. Kept my head down for reasons known to some, but back to my old self for most of the time and ready to rock.

    Anyone knows of anyone needing an aging but energetic person with my chequered background can call me +44(0)787 2011 323 or simply email.

    Who loves yer baby? Nice one Spike!

    Comment by david blackburn — January 28, 2009 @ 6:27 am

  4. Your presence is reserved on stool #3 for Jags on tap at Ric’s down in the bunk, Bum. Cool ice required. Pork served with no arse biting allowed before noon. Prepare neck brace for solo band KKZ. Karaoke Kamikaze Zero barrel rolling at 5:00 o’clock high spitting sick beats. Hom’n in the coon plow, eight lines of road stripe out of either eye. Down in the bunk.

    Comment by C. Nemo — January 30, 2009 @ 2:32 am