"bucks" poems
The difference between actions and habits,
is often measured by the person you're asking.
One bump, one line, one half ounce . . .
All shared by people you don't even give a **** about.
These chemicals make me sick --
Limitless . . . Why quit?
When it's only ten bucks for a hit like this?
Even Jesus Christ would have gotten addicted,
if drugs in his day were half this good.
"Yeah, I'm smashed -- but I promise I can drive fine."
Walk and push the limits of a real fine line...
If I don't **** myself, or someone else . . . I'm happy.
Stare death in his eyes, wink, and start laughing.
Gasping as I swerve lanes --
Stay safe, get paid. Mundane daily.
Living a-live . . .
Eat. Sleep. Dream. Get laid.
Chase feelings.
*Please, just feel me now.
You know me, right?
Please, just feel me now.
You love me, right?*
I want to melt with you -- let our souls collide . . .
Dissolve the boundaries between students and teachers.
To bridge the gap in the great divide
No secrets between us -- bleed into the speakers.
Feel the air in your chest, and ask God for a reason
To stay or leave Him.
He makes excuses . . .
. . . Believe Him.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC
(Part 1: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/738250/almond-eyes/)
Come spring, she leaped across the grassy dune.
In her ageing almond eyes, fresh wisdom strewn.
Unthought of now- he who had once been her all.
In a forbidden forest, a smiling lean buck stood tall.
Come summer, standing afar she did quietly spy;
Studying his ways from the curious corner of her eye-
How chilled he liked his water, how green his grass…
A polite little nod if ever he happened to pass.
Come monsoon, away she cast the lessons of the past.
Throughout their graze, on him her gaze.
Playful fights they feign; adorable moments in the rain.
She’d fallen tame; her clumsy hooves not to blame.
Come winter, cold truths in the icy winds blew her way.
Her lean, smiling buck wasn’t really hers per se.
He smiled much the same at myriad doe and antelope,
Yet, in her shivering heart flickered the scantiest of hope.
Come fall, she finally forsake her futile trail.
Turned her back with a swish of her bushy tail.
Beaming with sheer joy, she hummed a halcyon tune twice over.
For bucks would come and bucks would go, but the river’d go on forever.
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
( i )
I lucked out
on table 4 last night
window seat
baseboard heat
with intimate passages
from Ginsberg
in his purest
and most evident form
Cover-all Carl was draped
in his usual garb
(turning pages
of yesterday's news)
animating, culturing, bantering
on the fate of the
Greek barber
(in an accent of which
I'm not so sure)
His cronies
looked on
(with a twisted conviction)
countering
with their own tales
of ingovernance and woe
*did you know that Panasonic
lost 5 billion last quarter?*
The evening moved
in time lapse...
with painted winds,
streaming lights
and a host of
high school girls
running cold
Maleah passed
on her late shift
(checking the pile and trough),
patronized the boys
and called it a night
( ii )
The bald man
is back at it again
bickering at the till
(something about
a cold free coffee
or 99 cents
or the coloured guy
behind him who got it hot)
a kind Filipino
is trying to get it done
(at 8 bucks per)
losing her cool
and shedding a quiet tear
Wonder what the Purewals
or Haitians or Cossacks
would have to say
about this grim public reminder,
wonder what
this sad f*ck
will do tonight...
without his
bus pass
or sling sack
or broken Turkish stems
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 2:37 PM UTC
Dope, money, and hoes [x9]
[Verse 1: Da$h]
Ain't write it, thought of this when I was drunk driving
Like I had a license, been swerving through the intersect
Just to make the ******* wet, breakfast: yac and cigarettes
Feds about the only threat, spit nasty like my throat is strep
She working at the pyramid, shake her **** for some bucks from Tut
Pharaoh to the marrow, Cleopatra roll my dutch
Dour blunts they double stuffed, got a ***** stupid chopped
Used to squad these faggots' wives, the ******* that I used to pop
Wear the **** I used to cop, respect your elders lil *****
Ain't even of age to drink, I get your ** to buy me liquor
'Linquent **** I live for it, they tryin but might die for it
These drugs got my brain, money got my mind finding fun in crime
******* love my rhymes, to be honest I love their mouth at campuses
Looking for talents just like I'm a college scout
Ask her what she shout, I’m ashin' her on the ******* couch
[Verse 2: Da$h]
Dope, money, and hoes, getting dope money from shows
She sniff her coke then she blow, **** it, I don’t judge it though
Sugar free, no love for sure, just put 'em on Sepulveda
Benefits and bank rolls, all a ***** really want from her
And when she bring it back, call my brother hit the trap
Invested in a couple packs, will probably see a couple stacks from what he talkin
Money hulking like Bruce Banner
Panarama day dreaming, While she downin' my ***** on camera
Life's in action, piping, smashing whatever you call it
Smoke a 'Port and I'm off but they ******* think I lost it
And my dog facing blunts while I feed my pups bath salts
Infiltrate my castle, take your face like it's a mask boss
Pass raw flesh and bone, money long like small intestines
Homes I'm taking breakfast, long as getting checks involved H´z *****
Cause if you ain't know, AraabMuzik
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 12:16 PM UTC
Three hundred bucks, is her asking price,
Knowing myself, I never think twice.
She's to me, worth every single dime,
Though technically a severe crime.
Im not an awful fella alright,
Only hooked on women of the night.
Dec 4, 2021
Dec 4, 2021 at 7:43 PM UTC
I have a boyfriend
I shout to myself,
Pinching my upper thigh
And blinking away from
The sight of them.
She giggles and I notice
Her laugh is lopsided
And she's too short
To be that loud.
Her shoulders are too far forward
And even I notice the
Gross stain on her
Upper left canine
Between her braces
That are bright, neon green.
She's my best friend.
I don't mean to think of her in that way,
I love her like a sister.
But it pops into the front of my brain
When I see them together.
I don't even like him
In that way
Anymore.
I have a boyfriend,
And all he was
Was a whispered fifth grade crush.
That's what I tell myself.
He looks at her like
She's a million bucks.
Her crooked teeth
Earn her six cents,
In my opinion.
I take it back within a second,
But the thought was still there.
Jealousy makes me into a monster.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
If you're ever on the riverside
where the sun beats your head
you would see the old man
selling hats of palm leaf
but you care not to notice him
having already smelled the sea
and too keen to cross the river
travel southward on the island
till the saline wind scalds your eyes
your skins itch to jump into the waves
yet the man with the palm leaf hats
would not cease to tell you
how burning would be the sun on the sands
and so badly you need to protect the head
by parting bucks that mean nothing to you
but a world to the mouths he feeds
and before you stamp on him a final no
she has one atop her hair
beneath which her eyes flutter like butterflies
her sun rouged cheeks untimely blush
and two born anew lovers
merrily head for the sea
having bought romance
for forty bucks.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 4:56 AM UTC
freshman year
Happy, scared, young, full, and ready for whatever it is thats about to hit you.
You loose your bestfriend, and your virginity.
You gain a new clique, and a body count.
sophomore year
your freshman expertise kick in and you think youve got the feel for the highschool life.
You fail chemistry, and go to your first party.
*you are now a ****
You think youre cooler than your ex
bestfriend because you have ten bucks saying that shes never had a boy see her underwear or that shes never been as drunk at you.
junior year
You spent your summer in therapy, in
and out of mental hospitals because your eating disorder became deadly, and all of the friends you partied with cut you off because your newest bestfriend convinced you to sleep with one of their exs.
You come back to school as dead as
you have ever been and you spend every lunch period in the art room painting your sorrows away and you spend every night at home doing the same only this time your wrist becomes the canvas.
seinor year
Your down to one medication a day now and you have commited social suicide all summer by staying in to gaurd yourself from turning to drugs and alcohol again to hide the pain. Graduation is arround the corner and you realize you could finally be happy once this is all over.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
I'm a simple man
A country boy north of the Mason Dixon
I don't look for much
There's only the little things I that I yearn
Like the love of a good woman and a smooth whiskey
Maybe a reliable old truck and some folks that would miss me
I'm comfortable anywhere I go
From the corn fields of Illinois, to the mountains of Tennessee
I travel light, some blue jeans and some shirts
Perhaps with a few bucks for a little fun
I listen to some old country every day
Like No Show, Hank and Mr. Conway
I'm cut from old school cloth
Just like my folks before me
Yeah, I'm not fancy
I just am who I am
A lover and a fighter
A son, brother, uncle, and lover
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
Trump's next speech - -
**We the people,
aside of me
believe in order
to convince
a perfect union
only the rich
deserve to survive,
will give each and
every citizen
fifty bucks if they
don't let Latinos in**
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
Julie had never been one to partake in
Girly things, dollies and frills
Julie was one of those tomboy like girls
Who looked out for adventurous thrills
She loved riding bikes, down the hill at high speed
Screaming loud with her hands in the air
But Julie could not play in organized sports
Her mum said the cash wasn't there
She sat on the sidelines and watched all the games
To not play the game was a sin
But Julie Macado would spend her whole life
On the outside of things looking in.
She knew all the players on all of the teams
She wanted so badly to play
But Julie Macado would learn pretty fast
She was one of the have-nots that day
In gym she was better than all of the guys
She sank every shot that she tried
But organized sports was just out of her league
She was still sitting on the outside
Her friends that she played with said
"Go see the coach", maybe he'll let you join up
When she told her poor mother that that's what's she'd do
Her mother told her to shut up
"I've done my best girl, to give you a life"
"And charity...I'll never take"
"If you're gonna play then you'll pay your own way
"For you learn more when somethings at stake"
So Julie went out, hustled, working part time
Doing all that she could to make bucks
But, when she had enough money to finally join in
The season was done...and that *****
Even though she had shown she could be on the team
She was finished and did not begin
Poor Julie Macodo was still not on the team
She was still outside looking in
She worked all that summer making money galore
She'd be ready to sign up that fall
She had enough money to pay for herself
She was going to play basketball
Her mum lost her job in early July
The plant that she worked at had closed
Now she too was outside looking in at the others
They would move...that was what she supposed
Again Julie Macado would miss out again
All of her money she gave to her mom
She would be an outsider for all of her life
Never playing a game...'cept for fun
Even though she was better than all in her school
She would never be in looking out
Until that one day, when a man from Kentucky
Had come up to Freeling to scout
He'd heard of this girl, who could shoot from the floor
She had skills that he had seldom seen
He signed her on up to a four year free ride
It was all like a really good dream
He told her of how, he had gotten a letter
About a young girl ..that was her
It was written in crayon and a little bid blurry
And it stated out with a Dear Ser,
the spelling was bad, but he read it completely
It told of how Julie could play
But she had not school record, no history so
He set out to see the girl play
He contacted the school and he asked them for game films
They said she played only in gym
So he set out directly to see for himself
The decision would be up to him
Now, Julie Macado has realized her dream
Her life is all set to begin
She did it herself, with a note from her Mother
She was no longer out looking in.
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 6:20 PM UTC
I watch her
climb of top
As she mounts me
I slowly fill her up
she rides me
I love the way she bucks
My explosion starts to erupt
Her body quakin
An eruption exploding
my hot lava seeping in
as it over runneth her cup
Apr 14, 2022
Apr 14, 2022 at 2:59 PM UTC
Wrenches clanging, knuckles banging
A drop of blood
A new part here, and old part… there
A hotrod had been built!
A patchwork, mechanical, quilt
I drove past the banner that said “Welcome Race Fans”
Took a new route, behind the grandstands
And through my chipped window, I thought I could see
Some of the racers were laughing at me
I guess chalky grey primer is not to their taste
But I put my bucks mister in the right place
I chugged-popped past cars that dealers had sold
Swung into a spot, next to something old
Emerging with interest from under his hood
My neighbor said two words, he said “sounds good”
The voice on the loudspeaker tells us we’re up
Pre-staged, staged, then given the green
The line becomes blurred between man and machine
Bones become linkage
Muscle, spring
Fear, excitement
Time distorts ….
Color disappears …
Vision narrows…
Noise --- becomes music
Speed --- satisfaction
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 11:36 AM UTC
Drivin’ with the kids in tow
Windows down, nowhere to go
Hands outside, feel wind blow
On country roads, fields passin’ slow.
Saw a hayrack sittin’ by a fence
“Rocks for Sale – Fifty Cents”
Thought I, it makes no earthly sense
To demand for rocks some recompense.
But the sign - unique enough to hail
(I protested - but to no avail)
The missus and the kids prevailed
A sale you see, is still a sale!
Before day and feelings I did mar
Realizing for the course it’s par
I turned around and stopped the car
It’s what I’ve become, and whom we are .
To the rack and rocks the kids did sprint
I got closer, had to squint
So I could read the finer print
Kids might have seen, but care they din’t.
Said the bigger rocks did cost a buck
I knew then that I was out of luck
Between a hard place and a rock I’m stuck
‘Twas bait and switch, and smelled like muck.
But the kids had picked from rocks galore
Put them in the trunk to store
The rack was less some rocks times four
And the coffee can had four bucks more!
PwL 5/16/15
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
I'm taking it kinda hard--
Not having you around any more.
Sometimes my heart stops
And I have to remind myself
That living isn't just a thing I have to do
But something I want
Even more than getting you back.
So to that end,
I gave all your favorite records
To the local vinyl shop
And donated your sweaters
To the thrift store down the street
And sold your bike for twenty bucks
To the neighborhood paper boy
And finally bought myself
A new set of dishes (after breaking
All of yours).
I think I'm finally ready to say
Regardless of what you think of me,
My life is my choice.
Like the poetry I write just for me,
I'll live each day in just the same way:
For me.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
JEWELS IN THE DEEP GROUND
MAKING US DIG ALL NIGHT
GOLD MAKING US RICH
DIMONDS MAKING US BLING
AS JEWELRY MAKING US FEEL LIKE A MILLION
BUCKS
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
Giannis Antetokounmpo
Drinks Ouzo
In his Greek Freak
Pumpkin Spiced Latte
The grande size is
$5.25 USD
Salary of Giannis Antetokounmpo
$24.16 million USD Per year
One USD per meal (Meal Math)
$24.16 million USD feeds
1,655 families of four
per year
GO BUCKS GO!
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
Every time the bucks went clattering
Over Oklahoma
A firecat bristled in the way.
Wherever they went,
They went clattering,
Until they swerved
In a swift, circular line
To the right,
Because of the firecat.
Or until they swerved
In a swift, circular line
To the left,
Because of the firecat.
The bucks clattered.
The firecat went leaping,
To the right, to the left,
And
Bristled in the way.
Later, the firecat closed his bright eyes
And slept.
5.8k
I'm a poet, beatboxer,
Gamer, Expert procrastinator
Hated
Loved
But not loved by you apparently.
You
Who sits behind the screen like a little *****
Makes your profile private
So I can't respond to things like
"Exactly what I'd expect a 16 year old little ***** to say"
You only make me mad by your nature
Probably a 50 year-old ********* and troll
Who gets off by taunting younger ones
Because he's too much of a **** to pick on someone
His own size and age,
Having no friends or relatives that love him
Nobody that respects the ******* he is
Probably does drugs
Dropped out of school the year he learnt the word ****
Didn't follow much of a lifestyle
Blew kids off for twenty bucks
I mean, money is money
Shares his mothers basement with twelve cousins,
Male and female,
That he ***** on the daily
The only action he really gets
And when they aren't there
Climbs out of his trollhole
To **** with the wrong people
They call me Phoenix
Because I roast beats
And pedophiles
Like yourselves
You got a reaction
Question is,
Was it what you expected?
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 4:01 AM UTC
(you do you, baby boo, i know moms
who rather write poetry and spend five
bucks on their kids’ mouths lolol)
always the act of forgetting the people
behind the screen, when you blame me
like mingling with lanceheaded dreams
delivering pointless blows spelling it
like im incomplete unless i bring all of
myself to the table alone
& the room’s clean, and the kitchen’s clean
the birds sing and the sunlight’s cold and bright
seems like everything’s where it’s supposed
to be when you’re not around
now what a paradox that is
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 12:23 PM UTC
Smokey the bear had fought lots of fires,
he was a good guy, didn't have any priors.
But after so many years committed to the job,
Smokey started to feel as if he would sob
every time he got a message calling him back to work,
to put out a fire started by some drunken ****
No matter how many fires Smokey put out,
it never seemed to gain him any social clout.
His so called “friends” never invited him to hang
though all Smokey wanted was to be one of the gang.
They would hold fancy dances and dress in their best,
but poor lonely Smokey was never a guest.
He rented a tux and showed it to one guy,
who immediately retorted with quite the rude reply!
“Are you kidding,” he said, “Smokey tuxes aren’t for bears,
besides, you’d have to return it all covered in hair!”
“No,” the guy said, “It’s best you stay home,”
“Besides, I know you don’t mind hanging out alone!”
But Smokey did mind, he minded a lot,
and later that night, he had a brilliant thought.
“I’ll go to that party and show them, they’ll see,
you can’t just leave out a fun bear like me.”
However, Smokey's idea did not go as planned,
his first mistake being that he arrived in a van.
A van that looked like something a molester would use
while trolling the streets for a child to choose.
Smokey’s second mistake was his puke yellow tux,
the one he had bought for only two bucks.
When he finally entered people gasped in surprise,
unable to believe the strange thing before their eyes.
There Smokey stood, all covered in yellow,
holding a cane and top hat he thought made him quite the “fancy fellow.”
After a moment of silence there was a loud roar,
as laughing people asked, “What look were you going for?”
Embarrassed, Smokey tried to claim the whole thing was a joke,
Stuttering, “C’mon you guys know I’m quite the funny bloke!”
Eyes brimming with tears Smokey decided to leave,
but this embarrassed bear had something up his sleeve.
“I hate them,” he thought, standing outside,
and decided to make sure none of them would have a ride.
So he slashed all their tires while giggling with glee,
Thinking, "Now they’ll feel bad for laughing at me!”
But this was not enough, Smokey wanted to do more,
so he grabbed a gas can and started to pour.
He saturated the grass, the trees and the flowers,
and then sparked a fire that would burn on for hours.
This was one fire Smokey would not put out,
he simply stood, and then laughed as he heard the first shout.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
Someone said my monkey's dead,
But confusion hit their head,
Made them think that this is true,
I'm in a funk, what can I do?
Then they soon told my neighbors, yes,
Put my monkey to the test,
Called the papers just long enough to say,
Yes, my monkey ran away.
I searched high, and I searched low,
Dropped a rock upon my toe,
Hit my head on a doorway hard,
Couldn't find my monkey in the yard.
Traveled to the mountains nearby,
Looking for monkey made me cry,
Saw the clouds come floating by,
A speck of dirt flew in my eye.
Checked the traveling circus troup,
For details on missing monkey scoup,
Learned that he had traveled through,
What am I supposed to do?
Boarded a boat set for the Indian Ocean,
Got sea sick from the crazy motion,
Tried to eat, but it all came up,
Couldn't drink the swirl in my cup.
Once in Africa, deep in the jungle,
Searched for monkey and took a tumble,
Found a panther hiding in the bush,
Felt flat hard upon my ****
So, no monkey, not anywhere,
Does the world so truly care?
Waited patiently in a Star Bucks shop,
In came monkey and my coffee I dropped.
Called him by his first name, Charles,
Saw him stare and then he snarled,
Ran so fast for the door, he did,
What a silly and audacious kid.
Ran pursuit down a cobbled stone road,
Saw my monkey drop his precious load,
Screamed at him to stop and say,
Where he goes on this very day.
When my breath was heavily panting,
Stopped my call and my ranting,
Figured if he so desperately was going,
No more to care and no more knowing.
Monkey, monkey where are you?
Are you hiding in the zoo?
Will you ever be around?
You're a silly, slippery clown.
Feb 19, 2011
Feb 19, 2011 at 5:33 AM UTC
Wanna know what ***** **** paying for fifty Buck's in gas
And only getting twenty five bucks worth, gas station scammers
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 9:40 PM UTC
There are three versions of this poem. only one of them is available on the internet. This first version is from the New Yorker in a 1941 issue. It is the earliest version and the one that is quoted all over the internet.
To My Valentine
by Ogden Nash (1902-1971)
More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That's how much I love you.
I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than gin rummy is a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.
As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.
I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you as much as a beggar needs a crutch,
And more than a hangnail irks.
I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As the High Court loathes perjurious oaths,
That's how you're loved by me.
The next version is the lyric of a song from the Broadway musical "One Touch of Venus" (1943) by Ogden Nash, J S Perelman and Kurt Weill. Nash wrote this lyric. It is not on the internet that I could find. I got it from the sheet music.
HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU
More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That's how much I love you.
As a sailor's sweetheart hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a wife detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.
I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than a hangnail hurts.
I love you more than commercials are a bore,
And more than a grapefruit squirts.
I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As a bride would resent a blessed event,
That's how you are loved by me.
More than a waitress hates to wait ,
Or a lioness hates the zoo,
Or a batter dislikes those called third strikes,
That's how much I love you.
As much as a lifeguard hates to swim,
Or a writer hates to read,
As Hays office frowns on low cut gowns,
That's how much you I need.
I love you more than a hive can itch,
And more than a chilblain chills.
I yearn for you in an ivy clad igloo,
As a liver yearns for pills.
I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As a dachshund abhors revolving doors,
That's how you are loved by me.
The third is from the book "Marriage Lines: notes of a student husband" It was published in 1964 and contains a revised version of the poem with a much different ending. This too is not on the internet. I got it from the book.
TO MY VALENTINE
More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or an odalisque hates the Sultan's mates,
That's how much I love you.
I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than commercials are a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.
As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.
I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you truer than a toper loves a brewer,
And more than a hangnail irks.
I love you more than a bronco bucks,
Or a Yale man cheers the Blue.
Ask not what is this thing called love;
It's what I'm in with you.
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
I was flying home from Denver
and the man next to me ordered 3 double vodkas
slipping the stewardess a hundred bucks
by the end of the flight he was asking me
to come home with him
he had a sheepskin bed throw
that would keep us perfectly warm
this chill winter night
I refused
called him a drunk freak
and giggled when he stumbled down the escalator
and split a **** in his forehead
that cracked like
like Easter
smothered in chocolate frosting
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 7:13 PM UTC