#ruckus
I don’t mind politics at holidays
and religion at restaurants.
I think out loud
And have lots of questions and comments.
I talk too loud
And tell dad jokes.
I wake up early in the morning
And make lots of noise.
I often spill
And make lots of messes.
Yet my wife loves me all the more!
Jul 21, 2021
Jul 21, 2021 at 5:48 PM UTC
On the benches where grandpas watch strollers at
re-musement parks, where the oldays
come alive, conversations take on an old Wednesday
at the barber shop atmosphere,
circa Happy Days, right after ...
There could be sumthin' t'them stories,
the ones the good guys win,
some how
the
good guys win, not in the appliance business,
but
markets saturate, you know, need a gimmick,
need a hook,
eh, the c'mon, try-days, when umph was push,
come to shove and tear and take,
the puppy dog close...
what should only be given, fool.
is nothing sacred? Sweet persuasion
**** From a fifties Tom Hanks recollection of commonalities,
awe, look, Ken Burn's still of all
I think I saw now
that
I remember, I was near there, maybe a hundred miles away.
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 5:28 PM UTC
Take me to the altar and do as you please.
Even on my knees
I can love you as the man I am.
If you alter my person plan to pay fees.
Blood lines down my back
each a token of luck.
The purpose of this poem
is ruckus and ****
but whenever I get close
I think of the people I've ******
up.
My past closes in faster
to the brim of sin.
I can't last as a pastor.
Casting my eyes while preaching some line.
It's culture's downfall as I bind and entwine.
We are powerless to escape our nature in kind.
Pray to a fate blurred
then unearth what we find.
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 8:10 PM UTC
im walking along
hardly breathin cause it might disturb
im steppin in the shadows of great men
with one eye on the popularity of what im sayin
but i dont think anybody sees me anyway
cept her and its real hard to tell what shes thinkin
dressed to the nines and she lickable head to toe
hard body honey half my age
came here to pick a fight with the powers that be
dont stand a chance but thats beside the point
cant you feel the storm brewin
been there since it became hip to be an activist
tempest in a tea ***
but what a blast its been
a struggle of the masses not to drink another latte
a demand for justice for the **** who ate the last bearclaw
he trims that fashion beard
combs out the rough phrase from his latest trending poem
and some cat in london stamps his seal of approval
sold out for a pat on the back
just remember kiddo that your a greenhorn
and i got one beady little eye on ya
meanwhile in chechnya they are swaping pens for rifles
feel little like hemingway
wanna throw it all away in a blaze of glory
for the ideal of the revolt with some
things still worth fightin for
hand me that pen
got a ruckus to make
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC