"angus" poems
please give to me a proper job
otherwise I'm on the rob
me tummy hearts n me eyes are poppin
as around the shop i go hoppin
gonna steal new shoes, leave the old ones behind
security .... I'll blow ya mind
aberdeen angus, 21 day steak
come on tesco's give me a break
gonna nick whiskey, and fine wine
I'll be popular come tea time
gonna get the dress of my dreams
a vivien westwood, with tailored seams
lingerie, make up, and perfume
i'll get some attention .. in my living room
(c) msrigs 07/10/2014
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…open wide! The all-new Angus third-pounder…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…illiteracy: an incurable disease or education malpractice…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…childhood obesity is at an all-time high…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…suicide bomber, 10 people dead…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…teachers on strike again…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Michael Jackson…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…another Amber Alert has been issued…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…number of Americans going hungry increases…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…ninety-six billion pounds of food go to waste each year…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Nicole Kidman loves her new *****
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…another soldier was killed yesterday in a firefight…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“...you can do to protect against H1N1…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…live the rainbow, taste the rainbow…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…the King of Pop…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…confirmed: the remains belonged to 6 year old…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…boy refuses to pledge allegiance unless gays and lesbians have equal rights...”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…scientist reveals her secret life as a **********
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…police are waiting on a positive ID on the girl’s body...”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Michael Jackson...”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…actor who played Santa Claus jailed for having *** with boys…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Iran is restarting their nuclear facility…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…armed teen jumped the pizza delivery man…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…woman who has three hundred ******* a day finally meets her dream man…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…why we love Taylor Swift…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“fifteen year old son, shot by his father, has died tonight…”
BTZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ [click]
Jan 3, 2010
Jan 3, 2010 at 8:25 PM UTC
These are the songs I listen to while I cry and think about my beautiful sister and friend who I lost in July. What are your crying songs?
1. Consequence, The Notwist
2. Stuck on You, Lionel Richie
3. Hear You Me, Jimmy Eat World
4. Silence, Matisyahu
5. Drive, Ziggy Marley
6. Asleep, The Smiths
7. To Build a Home, The Cinematic Orchestra
8. Hallelujah, Jeff Buckley
9. Worry List, Blue October
10. Take a Little Time, Josh WaWa White
11. Ghost Towns, Radical Face
12. Kettering, The Antlers
13. Santa Monica Dream, Angus and Julia Stone
14. No One's Gonna Love You, Band of Horses
15. The Scientist, Coldplay
16. Fire and Rain, James Taylor
17. The District Sleeps Alone Tonight, Birdy
18. Yamaha, Delta Spirit
19. These Waters, Ben Howard
20. See You Soon, Coldplay
21. Unconditional Love, Tupac
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
Fig boo obba do
Uptar guivbar
Ceeb zoop gabba
Koop neeb wabba vo
Muck pocket locket bug
Even sub lubbet dug
Ibber tug vagga dug
Neek mug dar rug
Towel
How well
Ew shell
Angus meat funk
Skunk eats the big dunk
Seeba doob la lunk
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 11:09 PM UTC
NGUS'S ******
YEAH IT'S FUN TO SEE ANGUS'S AC/DC'S ******
HE FELT HE WAS WEIRD, BUT ALSO FELT QUITE COOL
CAUSE AS HE DANCES HIS COOL DANCE STYLE
OFF WENT HIS PANTS TO SEE HIS COOL JOCKS
HE PARTIES UP, YEAH HE PARTIES DOWN
AND HE PARTIES RIGHT WHERE ANY CONSERVOS FROWN
AND IT'S COOL TOO SEE ANGUS'S ACCA DACCA ****** YEAH
YA SEE HE TAKES HIS HAND AND RIPS THE SHIRT FROM HIS BACK
AND THEN SANG OUT THE FLAMING WORDS, WE GOT THE JACK
PLAYING WITH HIS JOCKS, THE ACCA DACCA JOCKS
RUNNIG AROUND SINGING HIS HEAVY METAL SOUND
PRETTY COOL, FOR A ACCA DACCA SINGER LIKE HIM, DUDES
NOW HE IS PLAYING THE GUTAR WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE
AND AS HIS ****** LOOK COOL INDEED
COOL INDEED COOL INDEED COOL INDEED
ANGUS YOUNG IS MIGHTY COOL INDEED
SHOOT TO **** WE BREAK NO RULES
I DID BUT ONLY THE MORALIC RULE
ANGUS'S ****** OOPS HIS JOCKS
GO HOME AND READ FOX IN ANGUS'S ******
YEAH IT'S FUN TO SEE ANGUS'S AC/DC'S ******
HE FELT HE WAS WEIRD, BUT ALSO FELT QUITE COOL
CAUSE AS HE DANCES HIS COOL DANCE STYLE
OFF WENT HIS PANTS TO SEE HIS COOL JOCKS
HE PARTIES UP, YEAH HE PARTIES DOWN
AND HE PARTIES RIGHT WHERE ANY CONSERVOS FROWN
AND IT'S COOL TOO SEE ANGUS'S ACCA DACCA ****** YEAH
YA SEE HE TAKES HIS HAND AND RIPS THE SHIRT FROM HIS BACK
AND THEN SANG OUT THE FLAMING WORDS, WE GOT THE JACK
PLAYING WITH HIS JOCKS, THE ACCA DACCA JOCKS
RUNNIG AROUND SINGING HIS HEAVY METAL SOUND
PRETTY COOL, FOR A ACCA DACCA SINGER LIKE HIM, DUDES
NOW HE IS PLAYING THE GUTAR WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE
AND AS HIS ****** LOOK COOL INDEED
COOL INDEED COOL INDEED COOL INDEED
ANGUS YOUNG IS MIGHTY COOL INDEED
SHOOT TO **** WE BREAK NO RULES
I DID BUT ONLY THE MORALIC RULE
ANGUS'S ****** OOPS HIS JOCKS
GO HOME AND READ FOX IN
YEAH I LOVE ICE CREAM
AND I LOVE LIFE GOING ON ADVENTURES
I LOVE CONCERTS, I HEAR CANBERRA
SAYING, LET'S PUT ON POISON CONCERT
FOR BRIAN ALLAN AND AC/DC CONCERT FOR
BRIAN ALLAN AND TWISTED SISTER FOR BRIAN ALLAN
YEAH, I STILL LOVE HEAVY METAL MUSIC, BETTER
THAN THE ARMY, I LIKE LIVE CONCERTS
I THINK IT'S RATHER GRAND
HEARING, THE CROWD YELL ANGUS ANGUS ANGUS
LIKE THE ****** BURGER ANGUS
I ALSO HATE DAD'S VOICE SAYING YOUR LIUKE ME AND MUMMY BRIAN
I LOVE HEAVY METAL AND I AM HEARING THUNDERSTRUCK AT PRESENT
I AM NOT LIVING IN THE PAST
I AM LIVING IN THE PRESENT FOR A PRESENT
I PREFER HEAVY METAL, I ALWAYS LIKED HEAVY METAL
BETTER THAN THE ARMY, I KNOW THEY ****
BUT WHERE'S THE THRILL, HEAVY METAL MUSIC IS SOOOO COOOOOL
LET'S PARTY PARTY PARTY ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT
I WILL CLEAN MY HOUSE LATER, AC/DC ARE MORE IMPORTANT MATE
BEING COOL IS MORE IMPORTANT AT PRESENT
I LOVE ACCA DACCA, THEY ARE ****** RADICALLY AWESOME DUDE
HEAVY METAL GOES UP, HEAVY METAL GOES DOWN
HEAVY METAL IS PLAYED NICE AND LOUD
AND THEV SCREAM OUT TO THE REAL LIFE CROWD
YEAH ACCA DACCA ARE COOL
WE ARE GETTING RID OF DADS OLD FOGIE
LIKING MY LITTLE CLEANER 24 HOURS A DAY
I KNOW I MIGHT HAVE WANTED THAT, TIMES CHANGE, DUDE
ACCA DACCA ARE RAD
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 4:07 AM UTC
Srinu, you demented little kid
To have you in my life i don't know what good things i did!
You can really take a bad song and make it better
We all know how crazy you are about Helter Skelter
You'd make a better actor than the guy who played Bane
I'm telling you, for the music industry, you're the next Kurt Cobain!
Man I'd love to see you perform 'House of the Holy'
I'm pretty sure you'll never leave the guitar, not even for the Cannoli
When you get hyper you remind us all of the Incredible Hulk
You're the happiest kid I've ever seen; you never sulk!
Your moods are unexpected and its types are various
Your crave for those "SUBSTANCES" is hilarious!
I know that Nirvana has made your Chemistry easier
You can now point out Lithium on the Periodic Table at your leisure
That face you make when you play the guitar is that of a Negative Creep
And when you blush you remind me of Meryl Streep
You lucky dog, you share your birthday will George Harrison!
If you were born during World War II, you'd provide awesome entertainment by playing guitar at the garrison
Over the Hills and Far Away is where you'll have your tryst
A Whole Lotta Love is definitely part of your Wishlist
You're way more electrifying than Angus Young
You set the stage on fire with your guitar skills and singing at the top of your lungs
Linkin Park is your childhood and In The End, it does matter
The Caste of Glass that you're building will never shatter
Your love for Jimi Hendrix is stronger than a dose of Purple Haze
Cuz your love for that musician is true and not just a phase
Santana invented the Spiritual ****** which makes us forget all our fears
Eric Clapton breaks me down into a River of Tears
There's something similar between you and Red Hot Chili Peppers
You're both unique - and i can't find anything else to rhyme so here's the closest - Def Leppard
Continue on your musical journey and people will be dying to give you a chance
One day, the music you create, will put us all in a Psychedelic Trance
I know that when you go
You'll either take the Stairway to Heaven or Highway to Hell
I heaven, you'll be Knockin' on their Door,
If Hell, you'll be ringin' Hell's Bells...
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
the base drum beats
bump... bump... bump... bump... bump...
the base guitar plays one note
brung... brung... brung... brung... brung...
the rhythm guitar strums one chord
strum... strum... strum... strum... strum...
Then the lead guitarist rings out in epic
greatness, as the lights turn up
you see him ripping up the guitar with his fingers everywhere at once
playing a great solo
moving across the stage
curly hair all over
breathing hard.
the Singer starts his song
clear but unique
no other singer could sing like he
but it's not the reason I love AC/DC
it is because of the guitarist
ANGUS YOUNG!
a inspiration above many!
Apr 24, 2010
Apr 24, 2010 at 12:49 PM UTC
“Little Lover” by AC/DC blasts over crackling speakers.
Cracks in the road assist my flat tire
in softly, yet steadily
pulling me off course to the left.
Rocks roll down dirt banks into clean spring rivers,
motorhomes full of smiling faces go the opposite direction
in no rush
until they slingshot past as we pass.
I nod at humble well-kept country abodes as my prototypical
small-town family dream fades with the sun behind the Kootaney mountains - I bid Farewell.
I bid farewell,
to my home & motorhomes
to similes & metaphors
to rocks that roll
and to the little love
I’ve shared with only
who I want when I want to.
“She shook me all night long” begins to play as my nighttime drive finishes.
One day baby, my life will play out intense as any AC/DC ****** innuendo…
but it’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock n’ roll.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 12:33 AM UTC
hard to play the idiot; likened to Mr. Bean
taking the role from
Angus Daily into a Blackadder
hurrah who? ha, ha, ha!
my eyes never
left me baffled - or washington prone:
*** to a stirrup - furthermore,
or Rushmore:
Atilla with an entourage
worthy of Genghis: of prone gravitas -
i too santa's little helper
and sinatra's
five p.m. flamingo strut's
worth of martini -
when said slavic eye then lessened
germanic white-boy fisheyed to boot...
i mean less binocular and more concentrate...
but
there's me as a fifth of Nevada in Siberia
that's always the: **** we sold Alaska!
Nicolai! oh Nicolai! Alaska! **** or
of what was the Crimea, of what is the Kremlin:
k, c, k, c, s, c, k, c, k, c, Vlad, s, t, u, v, k, c, s,
Rasputin, k, c, k, c, Boney M....
i'm still fidgety about the third ethnicity in
europe... i have to gather them attune to being
southern slav, or pseudo-turkish,
Finns, Latvians and Greeks... sounds like
falafel: all guidance to the subsequent reprimands
of necessarily tongue-tied whiplash -
gravitas with the kink and jeopardy of a gimp
fetish on the loose.
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
He stands, backs away, gazes,
Maybe...
Choosing from the stacked shelves of colour, sweet and sour, shining over, in, out, around. Tempting a step forward like orphans waiting at the ready to be sold to the mines.
Maybe...
Two arms but a thousand choices. A hundred? A thousand to choose.
His friends have moved on from his isle, to toys and foods, baking stalls of fish and chunder.
Buzzing fluro hyper-emotive lights, his shoulders naked and bare for the world. Not yet lashed and ***** by tendrils of the ****** society. Eels in soup, you know, squirting with thirty boys in ************ to the beat. A dub proposed, seconded, played forward and blasted through fender-box for the dextromethorphan eye to behold.
Bass, Blues and Angus and Julia ring out through the cavernous space in our floating head. A gas burner of sweet Mary Jane keeps the balloon floating high above. Two ***** hang from its base while the **** has long since fallen to the peoples below, blotting out the sun. Shocking pictures of girls, boys and gear sticks. Two babes one pacifier, the new viral hit. 3, 2, 1 your 15 minutes are up and you see no more out of those big naive eyes of yours.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 3:52 AM UTC
he'll be seen with
others of his sort
for they travel in
a drove's escort
he's not an Angus
nor a Hereford
yet he's of the
bovine accord
over the centuries
he's roamed inside the Utah state
so he can find food
for his stomach's sate
the first nation people
will symbolize him on a totem pole
as this represents
his strength of role
if you can guess what
animal he is
you'll be the one
to solve the quiz
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 7:13 PM UTC
and i remember asking him,
angus, love, do you have to throw stones?
why not flowers? why not cotton wool?
and he replied as such:
thomas, you keep walking under ladders.
you never throw that salt.
how do you expect me to react?
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 7:39 AM UTC
Friendly, the German Shepherd,
was big and he had rashes,
now he's ashes.
Daisy growled, never howled,
had puppies with Shiloh
who died on the patio.
Angus, the Siamese cat
got lost in the rain,
was hit by a train.
Peter the dove lost his love,
when during a fight,
she went to her sister's house
and flew in bad weather,
straight into a propeller
now she's feathers.
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 12:26 AM UTC
There I sit,
On my beautiful Nel,
The big girl that always lights my world.
A Russian Don by blood,
But she’s a Texas cutter to me.
Here we sit,
Watching this wonderful West Texas sunset.
She grazes on some prairie grass;
I chew on a cat-tail.
I wish we could have ridden,
With Jesse and Bill,
And become legends,
Here in these hills.
The canyons would echo our youthful cries,
Of excitement and joy,
While we just ride, run, Live.
Maybe in those days,
Nel could have run in the pastures,
of an old Texas myth,
and I could have wrassled some cows,
to earn the spurs of my grand-father’s,
father.
If we were on the trail,
Drivin’ some Angus and Belgian Blues,
Up north to Kansas City,
And maybe one night,
The boys and I could sit around the fire,
And stare up at the stars,
Wondering which stellar painting,
Looked most like our horse.
I want the times,
When Grand-dad and Nana Ma,
Would sit on their porch,
And gently swing another night away,
Like they had done,
For the last 50 years.
Nel would be my company;
My loyal bride;
While I rode south towards San-Anton’.
And we would meet up with,
Travis and Bowie,
To fight Santa Anna,
As he rushed the ol’ palisade,
Of the mission where I would die.
The Bexar province would weep for we few,
Who stood for the ideals of a noble, new nation.
Yet,
All ideals eventually come and go.
Well, me and Nel,
We ain’t never seen a cattle drive.
We ain’t ever been outside this here pasture.
So our dreams remain dreams,
And our hope remains void.
My Cowboy Dreams,
And her beautiful mane,
Grow faint and grey,
Every Single Day.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:43 AM UTC
Our reflections on a brass doorknob .
A skeleton key would slowly turn each tumbler ..
Dusty pinewood flooring , antique trinkets ..
Propane space heaters and fresh coffee balm private , erstwhile collective memories . A matriarchs kitchen , well water aroma and cross stitched towels , her flour tinged cotton apron , cast iron skillets and brass tea kettle with porcelain service ushers spirited times of conviviality over a simple oak dining room table ..
Hand made breakfast nook curtains , the majesty of tall Water Oaks
with foraging bantam hens and roosters ..
Dirt roads would tell of visitors long before they ever arrived ,
fishing for shell crackers at the old bridge with cane poles and and dough ***** , leftovers from cat head biscuits at breakfast ...
Pecans and crabapples fed young anglers on shady Summer afternoons . Feeding tall grass to black angus and hereford cattle through barbed wire fence , collecting afternoon eggs and walking the furrows at Dusk ,
days I'll never forget ..
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
My son is tall, smart and handsome, too
But he was never quite the romeo
Not until he scouted for a job
And met a girl from SanAntonio
Lindsay caught his eye and she looked his way
On OK Cupid, not oddly
And since that day his friends all say
Josh never smiled so broadly
Their journey, their story continues
From Texas to Palm Beach and back
How many times did they drive back and forth?
At last they can finally unpack
Angus, her dog, endured by her side
Today he witnessed every vow
Like him the guests wish them the best
Josh and Lindsay are married now
So lets celebrate their marriage
Raise your champagne glass or water
Dearest Josh and Lindsay, I love you both
My son-and now a daughter!
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 10:54 PM UTC
Farm hands , securing free access through pine thicket, with chainsaw , shovel and swing blade , hand driving steel post into Georgia red clay tempered by unforgiving heat , rolling barbed wire , cowherds in precision running taut lines with come -a-long tool , tractor winch and post hammer , surveying favorable routes and relocation of Angus and Herefored , Brahma and Charolais ...Leather gloves ,cowboy hats , sunglasses , denim jeans and flannels shirts deflect a hellish Sun directly overhead as Summers project moves forward , not for pay , nay , but as a rite of passage , teenagers assuming the role of young men securing the bond of Father and Son , family tradition , and honor , respect and love for the land .....
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
Across the reflective fields of Hill Country grass begins to escape its icy enclosure ..Black Angus leave red clay impressions bound for green pastures ..Mourning doves wail their somber retreat as first light exposes the prequel to Heaven .. Blackbirds and smoke from morning bonfires alight , the promise of daylight is scented with Oak and Hickory as fields of cotton appear to ignite . Tin roofs begin to glow , church bells awake villages on the horizon . Golden waves pan Eastern skies , Sycamores sequester abundant sunshine ..Sparrows , Chickadees and Finches gossip without end , Bluejays and Brown thrashers command the fence line once again .
Barbed wire enclosures divide the landscapes , dancing scrub Pines act as reeds , filtering the breeze with the music of natures continuity ..
Blacktop drives ribbon the lonesome acreage , goat herds graze the property frontage . Quarter , Morgan and Appaloosas quietly graze against the backdrop of nineteenth century farm houses .. White silos and red barns , gourd birdhouses , dug wells and smokehouses ..Bantam roosters and hens sift through acorns beneath two hundred year old Water Oaks ..
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 6:59 PM UTC
a drover rolled a smoke
under a shady gum tree
while the herd of Angus cattle
supped at the creek
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC
if you delve deep into the fray
where the truly true musicians play
keeping their words and sighs intact
their hearts and tears and words impact
the tiny masses who search them out
to warm their souls and if you doubt
the world around you doesn't hear
your broken dreams
your quiet fear
look beyond the pompous trite
the subtle muddle that holds no light
there is a world though buried deep
once heard enfolds you while you sleep
close your eyes we will walk the moon
your heart and mine will sing in tune
dedicated to Angus & Julia Stone
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 11:46 PM UTC
Judge me, please judge me tell me what I don’t see, let me know what a stranger thinks. Is this skirt too short for you? Is my hair too tangled for you? Please I need to figure a few things out and this would clarify a few small holes that seemed to have appeared. You think my breath stinks? Ohhh I’m not wearing enough make up? Well speak up! Wait is it? Look I’m so lost at the moment that you might just need to leave a message. Find some paper and a pen on the floor there’s a sharpie over there, write something’s down, some f.y.i.’s for me to ponder on when I come out from under my bed. Let me quickly brush my teeth, the dynamic of my mouth is off-putting. My belly button kind of hurts and the speakers on my computer are disgusting so silence might be actually easier to handle right now. I have felt tipsy all day, swaying back and forth and my mouth is all scratchy and it hurts to swallow; like a shot. Where is Christina? Why hasn’t she called yet? The party starts at 9 and it’s already 8:37. I hope she is alright. She’s just probably laying in the tub, listening to the national or Angus and Julia. Who knows? I hope I see her soon I want to start drinking, and I am already high.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 5:46 PM UTC
banquo - what! can the devil speak true?
macbeth - the thane of cawdor lives: who do
you dress me (as)
in borrowed robes?
angus - who was the thane, lives yet (still lives);
but under heavy judg(e)ment bears
that life, which he deserves to lose. whether he was
combined with those of norway,
or did line (assemble)
the rebel with hidden help and vantage,
or that with both
he laboured in his country's wrack,
i know not;
but treason capital, confessed and proved,
have overthrown him.
macbeth - glamis, and thane of cawdor:
the greatest is behind - thanks for your
pains. -
do you not hope your children shall be kings,
when those that gave the thane of cawdor to me
promised no less to them?
banquo - ............................................
................................................
.........................................................................
..............................
..........................................................
the instruments of darkness tell us truths.
and why wouldn't they, to begin with -
what lurks in the shadow,
isn't more than a second tier
of night?
where by night, the moon illuminates,
there also, the vacuum of a shadow,
suckling as if a reflection of a sun post-mortem,
as that, which is known to be a black hole?
but above all:
and letters are, the sole, greatest proof,
that they are what they are,
and that they are: the grandest tool of darkness.
only these these instruments may we peer
into a depth, and grandiosity of a matter
beyond the mere blutness of the mind -
deeper still, into the soul -
and even deeper still, into the heart of man;
to then say:
and by a heart you imply:
surviving on sheer luck of consequence?
i might only then ask: or is that, incompetence?
luck, the toss of dice, a thrill of the game,
the only suggestion, being
the quest of the so-called daredevil -
and then exclaim
the opposite to daring, if not cheating death?
and how many of such impromptus,
do you think, are given?
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 12:38 PM UTC
If I sit next to a painting of a lady
with black hair and bare arms with long brown gloves
will I become inspired and spread
my toast with sweat from my work.
Chandeliers block every creative thought,
perhaps I might sneak them out of my ears
and onto a keyboard, or tip my head
so ideas sprawl across my bedsheets.
Nearby machines answer automatic triggers,
make noises lulling me to doze
and dream of my next line
"clouds turn color while wind blows from nowhere."
Paintings of ladies without their legs crossed
invite me to fantasize what I might have become
had I stayed in South Dakota among the corn
and herds of black angus cattle.
I cried myself to sleep last night filled
with sadness and fear over books rotting on
shelves of unoccupied libraries
with empty chairs and dusty tables.
My bald-headed best friend
read this poem five times,
failed to laugh or even smile
and said, "you are no Patricia Lockwood."
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
The castle was smaller than I’d thought
In the Scottish countryside,
It sat in a hollow called Claymore Court
Where all the defenders died,
The signs of cannon, pounding the towers
Were there in the crumbled walls,
And shrubs grew out of the rubbled bowers
While trees took root in the halls.
I sensed a touch of hostility
The moment I reached the gate,
For Angus’s friendability
Came on just a little late,
We’d both attended the Priory School
But that had been way back then,
And I, in parting, called him a fool,
He wouldn’t remember when.
But he did us proud with a suckling pig
And a quart of **** o’ the North’,
Marie, who knew him, was ever so big
And sat with me, holding forth.
I had no mind that he felt so strong,
I’d have left the woman at home,
He had this feeling I’d done him wrong
When I coaxed Marie to roam.
And there she sat with a month to go
Way out in front with our bairn,
I didn’t know it would crease him so
But there, you live and you learn.
He coaxed her drink, with a dreadful leer
Pressed on her **** o’ the North,
It wasn’t as if she was drinking beer
Or water, for all that it’s worth.
We went to bed in a tower room
When the moon rose over the glen,
It felt to me like a Highland tomb
As it was to my clan back then,
Marie began to moan in the night
That the bairn was coming forth,
It had a skinful, thanks to Marie
Of that liquor, **** o’ the North.
And Angus heard and he came to gloat
When he heard that she couldn’t hold,
I dropped him there, head first in the moat
To a grave both wet and cold.
Marie and I, we sit in the barn
And the blame swings back and forth,
What price my friend, and a helpless bairn
To a jar of **** o’ the North?
David Lewis Paget
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 12:14 AM UTC