"adkins" poems
This Ain't a ******* Country Song
You know I love my Rock and Roll
I wouldn't write a Country Song
'Cause that's not how I roll
This song it ain't bout country things
Like pickup trucks and cars
You'll never find me writing
About getting drunk in bars
There's no mention here of Taylor Swift
or The Charlie Daniels Band
I wouldn't write of how the banks
are taking our farmland
This Ain't a ******* Country Song
You know I love my Rock and Roll
I wouldn't write a Country Song
'Cause that's not how I roll
I don't know **** 'bout Redneck stuff
like hunting dogs and guns
I wouldn't write of Daisy Dukes
showing off some hot babes buns
I won't write 'bout the Opry
I don't know all that stuff
Of Minnie Pearl and Grandpa Jones
And Mr. Roy Acuff
This Ain't a ******* Country Song
You know I love my Rock and Roll
I wouldn't write a Country Song
'Cause that's not how I roll
There's nothing here 'bout Bourbon
or of Racing through the fields
I don't know much about farming
or crop futures or of yields
I listen to The Rolling Stones
Trace Adkins I don't like
Lady A can go away
Kid Rock can ride his bike
You won't hear much about Zac Browns Band
or of food thats Chicken Fried
I might go to a hoedown
If I'd just up and died
My music, it fulfills me
It makes me who I am
But I'll stay away from country
songs, Cause I don't give a ****
No Oak Ridge Boys or Hee Haw Here
Hank Williams I won't buy
I'll never buy a Dixie Beer
It's a drink I'll never try
I won't sing about Kentucky
or of a Texas Yellow Rose
you know this aint no country song
Good god I hope it shows
There's no mohter, dogs or applie pie
no fishin' in the dark
No Everything is Beautiful
No songs by Terry Clark
I'm really open minded
My friends they are the same
We won't buy country music
To us it's just so lame
This Ain't a ******* Country Song
You know I love my Rock and Roll
I wouldn't write a Country Song
'Cause that's not how I roll
I won't mention stuff you'll find
in songs by Nashville bands
There's nothing here about
watching football in the stands
I'll never write a country song
Cause country just ain't fun
Oh crap I just read this thing
And I think I just wrote one
This Ain't a ******* Country Song
You know I love my Rock and Roll
I wouldn't write a Country Song
'Cause that's not how I roll
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 10:33 AM UTC
I don't want a "friend"
I don't want to get ****** in the end
I don't want your shoulder
I want something colder
I want someone to pretend to "be there"
But in all actuality not even begin to care
No, I don't need a ******* hero
I just want a neutral , unawkward place to go
I really don't want your opinions or your advice
Tho, I'm sure I've numerous flaws for you to chastise
I don't care to see things from your point of view
I want fun, fake, I want flippant for now
I don't want you to really listen to a **** thing I say
Because I don't want your theories to get in the way
I don't want your hopes and dreams explained to me
I just want someone to humor me for Gawds sake
Please do not try and understand or analyze me
I'd be much more comfortable, if you just use and abuse me
You know, someone to really kick me while I'm down
Drag my tired *** around, you know, something physical
I'm so numb, many believe Me to be unemotional
I no longer stand to correct them
Hell, at least they've something to believe in
Inflict harm upon me
Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?
I don't want your Gawed ****** empathy or you to
"Feel my pain"
Can't you hear me? I want you to be the very source of my pain
I want someone I can blame
Someone who doesn't give a **** all the same
I want you to look away, walk away, stay the **** away
You to, can pretend my inner psyche is not at all in disarray
No, I don't want a caring or understanding touch
Jesus! I am not asking for all that much
I don't want you to give me your heart
I really don't want any part
All I want is a sympathetic acquaintance
Doesn't that make sense?
© Melissa Adkins. All rights reserved
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 2:00 PM UTC
Until wolfs light, I will be counting sheep
Hell, I'll even pray,to Gods I dont keep
What keeps me awake at night?
Nothing
Nothing more then your stinky lingering elastic vowels
That stretch themselves through my head & warn me again, "Scream, I ******* dare you."
Because a spectacle of suffering, corrupts us all.....
Right?
over and over again, I hear your approaching boot heels
I know that scratchy voice of yours and how it feels
poking at my back, when it says "The dark has no teeth."
And they ask me why I cant sleep?
I dont know how to feel.
Safe or spared?
Knowing this little one and I,
have been so violently paired.
No. What keeps me awake?
The fear of what else you may take.
While men like you run those streets,
I imagine I'll always be counting sheep.....
© Melissa Adkins. All rights reserved
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
It's 3-19-15
3 years ago today, you took your own life
You told everyone that you'd give up your kids, over your dead body
Nobody thought you meant it literally
But you did
The day we buried you was the day you had to sign custody of your kids
Over to the State...
With no chance of getting them back
I miss you
I cry for you
I mourn your death
You meant the world to me
You were my uncle
My best friend
Today, 3-19-15, I can't have you
Oh, how much I wish you were here
I write letters to you
And always end them in
I will see you soon
R.I.P Dicky Adkins 3/19/12
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
I am left shaken
I'm simply wrecked inside
For you there who nestles
Just beneath my rib cage
We haven't quite met yet
Tho any day I hope to
And I already miss you
And apart from the constant aching
Apart from this empty longing,
I hurt beyond all expression
I'll forever miss you
And your hiccups
And all your "stretching"
Yes, I know I torture myself
But I can not cap this heartache
I will hate the distance between us
But I would walk a gazillion miles
To close the gap between us
A million more
To return me to before
Should ever I be made again to choose
Baby I would choose you
© 3 years ago, Melissa Adkins
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 8:32 AM UTC
With the door wide open
I am sleeping
With my eyes wide open
I am dreaming
With the door left open
Call it an inlet of the sea
A sea of indescribable beauty
And wilder still
Than any forest fire
However will I cross then?
What, With all these feelings and mixed emotions?
But by a bridge ....built of words, and words alone
Stretching across and down and over my confusion
To the one and only island
I go myself, to mend
Where millions of countless words dangle and twist before me
Forming answers to questions I seek , should I dare untangle them.
Words, upon words, upon words, hang there.
All poems to be one day, hanging so unaware.
Everything I hold inside so quietly
All the things I scream so silently
Words to be collected ,sifted and gone through
All to be written, recorded, and expressed however I construe
Tailor made for however Im feeling
Small talk, pillow talk, or real talk , this is my unveiling
I'll use my words as walls, so they will protect me
Because within them, I am safe, no harm will come to me
Hiding deep within their camouflage, I am still free
No one can judge, ignore or treat me badly
To the common passerby, it may Appear that I lie sleeping
Or is it maybe that I lie awake ....yet still dreaming?
Swimming through the sea of all left unspoken...
That's me there, Dreaming , with the door wide open
© 3 years ago, Melissa Adkins
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 11:38 AM UTC
And this song fell out from my father's lips:
Of boys learning to drop the corpse of their
parents' bodies on the high mountain of Jos,
Of girls who came home learning to place fingers on the holes that evil men dug;
Of children learning to empty themselves
With lies & truths about what happened now, about what happened in Benue and pleateu,
Of those stories that escaped through our mother's nostrils as she became past tense.
And this wants to make you leave your body
to a place where lost is freedom to enjoy.
yesterday When teeth fell from our mouth,
We threw them to the zinc for tomorrow.
We never knew they became dancers in
a battle field, making glittering white war.
We wired our way into abstract destructions
We bottled our knowledge to the river bank.
I am not alone in this nightmare of want
When my country men became object of
ridicule, I was never among them to core.
treasure this thawn into dirge of goodness.
Help me knit this morning with a song,
trace Adkins into Wooten of silence
We archived our routes to another smothering
Snow in red places before dawn.
Help me gather the laughters of those girls
Help me tell mother that sin is not a reproach
Tell father that Satan was an angel of light
Not a mystical mysteries as told by all.
If Allah allows the vehicles of my thought
To decamp from the camp of Moses.
When you get to Lagos, don't allow a bus to
carry you pass those graveyard called bridge.
a trailer fell from one of them at Ojuelegba
and another one fell in Ibadan without the express. There we saw a boy' tale told in
Fe-Buhari in pains & gory and eel mystery.
He carried a song on his shoulder to crying
Forgetting there on the express way has his father's last prayer points & footprints...
There he died also hoping to pick his
father's dust groaning without a comforter.
I whispered these words in secret
Tell nobody that somebody told you the body
of the storyline before the ****** erupted.
Till everything becomes breeze, I am not
still a poet but a messenger of the gods.
©John Chizoba Vincent
The_Boy_Hero
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 6:40 PM UTC