"bixby" poems
The funniest thing about the Andy Griffith Show.
He had an aunt that he loved so.
Which took time for Opie to know.
He had a deputy with one bullet.
Give him more.
Then you were in for a show.
But, he also had a famous phase.
Like "Nip It In The Bud".
Which every now and then, he spoked.
In truth Bernard P. Fife was vital to the show.
Yes, the funniest thing about the Andy Griffith Show.
He was a good parent first and fore most.
He was fair and firm.
When it came to his son.
After all.
He only had one.
Unlike that , of My Three Sons.
The men seems to gather at the Barber Shop.
Which , we still see today.
And like Flyod, many talked before they cut.
And many times.
He would cut too low.
Yes, this was part of the fun of the Andy Griffith Show.
Who doesn't remember Otis?
Who could teach many drunks today's a lesson.
He personally checked himself in.
Just to sober up and leave again.
Who doesn't remember that adult kid Ernest T. Bass?
Who many of times was sneaky and smart?
Or wanted a uniform just to wear it with class.
Of course the black and white shows are better than color.
All because they are so much funnier.
We admire Thelma Lou.
Still trying to figure out exactly what she did do?
We remember even Ellie.
Who wouldn't give a senior citizen?
A sugar tablet.
Yes, this was part of the fun of the Andy Griffith Show.
I could go on.
But I stop for now.
Least until, I see the show when Bill Bixby learn a lesson.
From visiting the town.
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 9:45 AM UTC
By Arcassin B
Crossing different cities,
mind state restless, I keep walking along,
Coffee stains on my shirt and i don't even
drink coffee, come to crossroads I'll never
get the chance to bare it all on, the fact,
We're in hell already, in the devil's country,
Who gives a **** about it all.
Raise hell in the mother's wound conjuring some
Shadowy agenda for annihilation,
I cover eyes but they won't cover their own,
Can't save anybody, they disgust me , all of them,
bunch of bodies rotting,
Even with my own worst enemies I'd probably leave them out to dry and dye,
Along with the true colors,
Swearing that the darkest depths of my soul won't let the monsters out that reside inside,
I wouldn't hide the secrets that kept all of me afloat..
I am as strong as I ever was in my ultimate pride,
Feel like I'm on earth 400005,
Anger stem from stupid **** while staying alive,
I always walked alone , I am the Bill Bixby of Life,
Don't make me angry...
©abpoetry2020
Oct 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020 at 1:37 AM UTC
We meet
in a secret spot below the bridge at Bixby Creek.
The ocean air is stale with salt and sweat. The buckle on
your belt is hot from my flesh pressed
against, and I can feel your heavy breath
on my navel.
Like clockwork your hand is in my hair, we
have been here so many times before,
The dance is old, yet the place is new.
This is not an eighth wonder, but we chose it
as the place to make our penance
to the body of one another.
And when its over we lay side by side
pinky in the fore-finger, like
every other time.
The only sound is the flutter of blood
through vessels
and the torrent of cars along Route 1.
Just a normal night in Big Sur.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
On monday
I will have to brush shoulders
with artless people
in an artless world
but for now
I have Songs from a Room
and Dave Bixby
and the stumbling hours of a Sunday afternoon
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC