"bunked" poems
me truck
me truck is where i get my luck
good luck, bad luck, nice luck
me truck stunk like a skunk
that seems like bad luck
but it was the good skunk
the wan that gets u bunked
me cat has a bad case of lice
no more chasing ***** mice
the stupid thing only eats rice
the ganga it smokes is so nice
it somkes great out of me pipe
my truck makes me lots of money
me honey likes me money
me brain aint very funny
i also aint a big smarty
so me truck is me only option
i like it, its so very nice
almost as good as mariwawa
otherwise known as de ganga
good bye
tank u truck
for me money and me food
to feed me fam
and me ganga addiction
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
City rush me
Pretty push
Did he see?
The wish on
Hard on_____
Sunday I thought
A rush of pluses +++
He won
Be on time if not - - -
Monday be
good to me
Rumors
Fantasy thoughts
I am
What I am
Not Popeye
Going day back
I need a third eye
I am
All free
Robin
Bird
From
everyone
Wait!!
Don't rush me
I love everyone______*
Newspaper's
Sunday
Daily
News
Poem
touchdown
My poem stood
With the others
I bowed ((Gladly))______
Waking up
To a Racers- mouth
Ray____ speed lover
No homework
All game
Sunday____
Candles burned
The House flamed
"Procrastinator"
I'll be back
"Destroyer-Terminator"
Coffee drug me percolator
He April fools her
Shopping Sunday
right up magnifying
dress
He is back
Not the future
Smart *** tricks
On the Escalator
He Jeremy irons out
her clothes
That's it!!!
Never rushed
on Sunday
To make
a mob hit
The call girls
Busy- tight pants
So Panicked Monday's
religiously
Hooked in
Scientology
So ****** in
Not to ever kiss
her on a
Sunday
He bunked into ((God))
Poem ritual bunk bed
Well NYC
Cabbie, he
will
never
take it
on Sunday
The big game
crazies
The flower
shops
of horror
Emptied
out with
Moms
Tiger
Lillies
Smelling
Mad Men hungover
Rush hour
Tv movie
Hangover
Jet game
Sprinkler
shower
Opening up
The door to his
apartment
Big Girly
hoarder mess
After a
long talk
night
Saturday Night
Brooklyn
The Disco Queen
bridge-sight
His Mom
is still oiling
His BMW Racecar
with
Hot fire Crisco
he
will never
be
rushed
out the door
His car
never
starts
Sunday
or a
Monday
Teased on
Tuesday
Wednesday
shes wild
Thursday
Ladies
drink
for free____
She got
her husband
to buy
her cushion
cut square
On Sunday
Do it or dare
She's
hanging
low
Times Square
Girly rough
Brooklyn
tough
Channel
blush
On Sunday
he is so
wired bushed
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 1:01 PM UTC
Congratulations another consecutive win
******** central made it clear
You're the biggest family of ********* every year
There is no rival that can compare
Sponging off us and can't see
The burden we bare
Well the cost of your unbeaten record consumes us
while your respect is something refused us.
our dignity is intact never stooped as low to air the trash talk
We'd rather hold our heads high and walk.
But the ********* of the year can enjoy paying rent
because this finance bubble debt needs a good dent
dont worry I know youll all object,
with the usual ******** excuses to that effect
but when we asked for assistance which you had the ease of doing
you said no, get someone else and audaciously bunked right in.
Go live in rip off ********* home theyve got a big roof.
I should know i paid for it
I expect more crap but I hear ********* of the year is up for grabs!
Go for it! I'm sure youll win
Regards from the newly crowned,
******* ***** of the year.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 2:30 AM UTC
Be on the side of truth, speak boldly what’s true
Said the father to his son, truth you must value.
One day said the father, son let’s go to a movie
Jurassic Park at the Globe would be fun and groovy.
A little recreation is overdue son, what do you say
No harm will be done, if you are off from school a day.
The lad a little trepid said after a reflecting pause
What dad should I tell the teacher as absence’s cause!
Don’t worry son tell him the truth for from the daily grind
A day’s break of a little boy he wouldn’t surely mind.
So they merrily enjoyed the day, the movie was ****** good
Away from lessons and classroom, found the kid in fabulous mood.
But you know about the good times, it’s in them to always rush
The merry day passed quickly, and the boy was back in class.
What happened yesterday, the teacher’s jaws hardened
The boy had to admit it, with truth he was burdened.
I had gone with my father to watch the Jurassic Park
Was enough for the teacher to show his anger’s spark.
You boy bunked class and now tell it on my face
Get out right now and remain standing till recess.
In the class was another boy without truth placed better
He too like our lad had gone to the Globe theatre
When the teacher turned to him asked him what’s his cause
He said he was down with fever without a moment’s pause.
The truthful boy felt pangs of remorse for saying what was true
From that day he learned the lesson that truth would never do.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 8:03 AM UTC
So what if I have squint
Or money I don’t mint
I know my eyes blink a lot
Or most of the tasks I just forgot
What is the matter if I am a buffoon
Or my life is much more doomed
I know I hue and cry
Or talking to chicks I’m a bit too shy
To those who understand
I extend my hand
To the doubtful I demand
take me as I am
not under your control
I know where I stand
Won’t change to suit your plan
Take me as I am
From childhood I did what you said
From waking up to going to bed
I am sorry I missed that one mark for DU'
Now don’t look down at me in dread
I deserve that seat more than that OBC" guy
Or the seat that rich dad did buy
Sorry I could not prove your expectation
Courses are full, don’t worry ill do animation
I’m facing blasphemies of life
I’ll write satires on Modi or the wife
To those who understand
I extend my hand
To the doubtful I demand
take me as I am
not under your control
I know where I stand
Won’t change to suit your plan
Take me as I am
Sitting in the dark I forget,
Sweetness, sourness is all I get
Everyday having the bitter pills of fate
Missing the time we chatted till late
We bunked periods to find solitary places to sit
You asked me to love you and I did
Traded my emotions for a counteract to commit
Now you know my faults and have gone so far
Your confessions in my name
Now just give you fame
What all we dreamt now and then
Now you have got someone to blame
To those who understand
I extend my hand
To the doubtful I demand
take me as I am
not under your control
I know where I stand
Won’t change to suit your plan
Take me as I am
I keep my secrets in my skin
What all I did with innocence and ignorance
Now dealing with my sins
What all is left of me is in a cage
To protect death from dying from my carnage
I have done much, don’t expect anything from my life
Let me be me, done enough truce and strife
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 3:59 AM UTC
Do you remember
The fairy tales we spun
On those blazing summer noons
When the road tar was melting
And we bunked classes
To be under the forest flame
Shadowed from the world outside
When we thought time would be immortal
As you wiped the sweats from my forehead
And with every thread of yarn
I would grip you harder
In an effort to prevent gravity
From letting those moments fall
Into the abyss of memories.
Do your eyes still see the Prince
That never took you away
When you tell your grandkids
The fairy tales?
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 12:07 PM UTC
I was south of El Paso
hadn't got very far
I was hot on the trail of
A wandering star
It was high in the heavens
like a giant balloon
It was caught in the shadows
of the Blood Red Full Moon
I set out on the trail of
That wandering star
I followed it closely
Heard a tale in a bar
When the moon was in season
and the Blood Moon hung low
That wandering star
Would show where to go
It was up in the rock face
That I found a trail mark
The moon shone upon it
Even though it was dark
It showed the direction
To get away from the wind
Something evil was brewing
It was set to begin
I didn't hear cricket
nay, there wasn't a sound
All of nature was hiding
There was nothing around
The moon it hung lower
Red as jam in a jar
And there in the shadows
Was the wandering star
I found shelter and bunked down
There was nowhere to go
The temperature dropped fast
You knew soon there'd be snow
The trail would be hidden
In the light of the day
I'd wait for the star to
come out and show me the way
Two days we kept moving
Our goal was nearly in sight
The snow kept on coming
We moved only at night
I was just three more miles
It wasn't really that far
We'd been shown by the moon
and by the wandering star
I awoke in the morning
The sun was red as the moon
the wind was still howling
It played a wicked old tune
I could see in the distance
Of what the old drunkard said
I'd found an old grave yard
That housed the Parmalee dead
You see, I was family
They'd come out from the east
They'd died in the winter
they said the storm was a beast
They were buried and left here
Under a ****** red moon
The wind was still blowing
It's bitter cold tune
I painted the fences
I cleared the snow from the graves
Even though they were gone
Their memory was saved
I'd stay here till the spring time
Put fresh paint on each cross
Naming each single one
That our family lost
I came here each season
Left El Paso to ride
It was just a deep feeling
A feeling of pride
They could not be forgotten
Thanks to the tale in the bar
I found all my kin
with the wandering star.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 11:48 PM UTC
I’m not a higher caste-class-Hindu-male,
I cannot be a mute spectator
with a censored mouth and
I don’t want to be a part of a
********* history
that plucked eyes, chopped limbs
and slashed throats.
I want to tell my tomorrows that
I believed in tolerance, patience
And human rights.
Now that makes me a rebel,
An anti-national, a threat!
That’s reason one- I’m disqualified.
Tell me the meaning of life, justice
and freedom my brother
We were the promises of Independence,
The revolution that taught the world-
Ahimsa.
I don’t like vegetables, orange-vegetables
my land exported
and we got back bananas from
the celebrated republics.
The meatless days left me hungry
I decided to fast, I got jailed
And I know someday these man-eaters
Would hang me.
I don’t speak Hindi, I have no money
I dared to educate and I’m a girl
Now that makes me disqualified.
I need a moral certificate, approval
and a stamp
Just because I have men friends,
I wore lipstick and jeans and I danced.
I’ve to pay a fine, apologize
and spill tears
Because I proclaimed myself a feminist,
A thinker, a dreamer.
Dear society, let me add some more,
I bunked all my moral education classes,
I’m an atheist and a post-modern
Daughter.
I’ve friends- **** hetero and bisexuals
And I eat beef, lamb and pork.
I’ve a tan skin, a flat nose, tiny *******
and a beer belly
I laugh loud, cry and yell at times
And I know there are people out there
Who wants to throw stones, cut my-
body parts and exhibit my remains in a museum,
They need to execute this handicapped
Because she asked too many questions.
Don’t offer me your chocolate-justice
to be denied the next appropriate minute
‘Right’ can never be a synonym to ‘legal’.
So that makes a wrong-carriage
or abortion.
I know I’m disqualified
Now it’s time for the execution,
Hang this heretic!
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
Behind the curtain on the wall and through the roar of
the waterfall, into the trappings of mystery, warm and wet beside the sea, sand castle domes and ice cream cones disappearing in the bay, a summer today and gone too soon, love in the afternoon before the rising of the moon and mystery beside the sea.
We never knew, we didn't care, the constancy of being there was enough, times if tough were few and if we could do it all for just a moment more, for just a second chance, another trip to what we saw when we were kids down on the shore picking clams or on the tram rides through the town, ha ha we dressed up to then dress down, stripped off bare *** skinny dipped, ripped through tides and got our backsides whipped when dad found we'd bunked off from school, not cool then and not cool now but I'd go back unchanged and
how I'd enjoy it all again
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 4:29 AM UTC
*being the topper in the class, he developed certain pride
that the envious derided, ignored flatterers on his side.*
the first bench was his permanent place
from where shone his haloed face
when the teachers spoke seemed it thus
there was only him in the whole class.
all questions he took the answers he knew
solved hardest sums others had no clue
not once an intruder could invade his space
he shined in glory of his flawlessness.
from him was never unfinished homework
ruthlessly made on exams his mark
was taken for granted he would win first place
the rest of the herd would just run the race.
the teachers indulged him the pride of the class
but you know all fame are fragile like glass
it so happened a new teacher joined the school
unbiased he was not to blindly toe the rule.
he asked the first boy if he had ever flown a kite
played marbles on road picked up a fight
if ever he had walked barefooted on the grass
stole a look at sky bunked even one class.
if he had ever chosen to close the book
hid him alone in the scariest of nook
scanned the horizon to catch first moonrise
counted the stars bamboo grove's fireflies.
he looked nonplussed didn't utter a word
anything than studies he hardly bothered
had he answered it would all have been no
to him most precious was his place at front row.
he bowed his head down with ashen face
for the first time in class he failed to impress
what happened next was no riddle to guess
that teacher was gone without a trace.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 9:51 AM UTC
Start out baby paint
Hands inquisitive
So relative just live
Fingers baby prints
Cherubs to stirrups
Crying than smiling
Or going frantic
The womb over the
"Atlantic Ocean"
Her spell fingers
Has the potent
She's about to faint
The blessing their lifeline
So quaint love yourself
From birth
You're the Saint*
Art fingers bunked
into God
The world of modern
Click of the fingers
Her smartphone
Her gift of gab tone
Cute pup labs left
alone? I phone and apps
Her lips start to shrink
Does life truly stink
US debt dark ages
Her art fingers walk the
yellow pages
The triple play bait
Truly her unique trait
She's the honest most
sincere wife
And poems are her life
A birth what do you think
within the time so sublime
Light as a baby feather in
any weather birth gets beyond
better
A magical place admiring the love
Mother and Father with fingers like Grace
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 9:10 AM UTC
I slept in a red cot
On the SS Columbia.
In the middle of the cabin,
Brothers and sisters
Bunked vertically
On either side.
Seven in all.
We disembarked at Montreal,
Where my sister
Unclenched my white-knuckled hold
On the mahogany rails.
That moment was synapsed
And impermeable.
My third love
Taught me everything about love.
Miss DeGurse, Grade One.
She was taken by the dimples
And the brogue, but smart me,
I passed, we parted;
She to her farmer fiance,
Me to Grade Two
And Sister Hildegarde.
I learned valuable lessons,
But love was already learned
For a life-time outside family.
The soutane didn't fit anymore,
And the incense left me distracted.
The flickering shadows over the folds
Of Joseph's and Mary's statues
Have fewer outlines
Under the light of less candles.
Books replaced Church,
Then illuminated religion
In gold-leafed pages.
Women went well with books
And still enrich my every day.
Loss is all around.
No eulogies or memorials, please.
But remember me
When you splash in July,
Observe nature prepare for winter,
Blink flakes off your lashes,
Or bloom up and down your street;
Then gather,
Read something I wrote,
And Remember
I used to notice such things.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
This morning
I dreamed
That you were nestled, crook of your self
In the very top end of my bunked bed, high and away
From everything and everyone in the room.
She was with you, and I remember
Being taken aback by how friendly you were
Giggling and chatting exchanging words through bright teeth
And uncomfortable close.
And then you kissed her
And I felt the cold, sinking inexcusably entitlement
Of betrayal.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 4:26 AM UTC
"paint images with your words"
Rusted, bunked beds
empty takeout boxes,
blankets too small to contain both bodies
so hands and feet were always cold.
mascara on bags under eyes,
beard still has bedhead at 1pm
it smells like latex and rough *** and pineapple soda
when is the last time we showered?
your hair is matted, that's hard for short hair to do unless it's been days
you might have pork fried rice in your teeth
and that is kind of disgusting to me
but you are still smiling
I tried to mask the beer farts
with georgia peach perfume
but all we got was tired, half coughs,
from the spongebob themed room we resided it.
We kind of claimed it, didn't we?
The owner of that bed left on Friday afternoons,
soon before we would arrive and plant ourselves deep
in blue and yellow sheets
that still smelled like cheetos and action figures
I think those were your old ones (the dolls, not the cheetos of course)
The tv always had that low, mumbling buzz
we always turned it up and watched forensic files
in boxers and bikinis
until 3am or whenever we fell asleep
and we never complained
we never asked for anything more
than for someone to shut the door
so we could make forts together on the floor
with the same blue and yellow sheets
that I really miss right now
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
*No park is ever named Lover’s Park
But in every city there’s one,
Where shadows coalesce to shadows dark
Fingers delve buttons undone.*
There ain’t no lover not grazed its grass
Bunked classes to warm its bench
Whispered sweet nothings in adolescent crush
Suffered failed love’s heart wrench!
They only know how precious the gain
To walk the patch of green turf
Holding the hands leaving the pain
Finding for love a safe wharf!
Bloom there the petals of budding romance
Ripened and raw and all class
Souls spellbound eyes in trance
Leave tears and joys on the grass!
I too had walked on the lover’s park
Drowned in a teen’s happiness
Found within love’s first spark
Carry to this day her face!
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 6:59 AM UTC
The special
Agent Fat lip
The Happy Man
1-2-3-4 Cut huge
Lip- 4 Action
TVor RV trailers
Gold finger on his
dinners set
((Step Beyond))
Honeymooners
((Chippendale -Moonshiners))
X-men slip up lip
Love their
ladies lips
4-Max I phone
Late bloomers
Bunked into
God Amen
Like a rich soul
Tentative I millions
The curiosity
killed the
Old Meiser Goat $
He had
Italian horns
Maxine's lips burned
The Will-Smith
Wild West
College girls
of Sorority
Love of
the Venus
I beg you to
make money
Maxine's lips
of Men to charge
Of Mars money
turned minus
Varsity loves Visa
Max is the man
Going once to
Bottom lip
ten million
Mona Lisa
Multitasking
Never smiling
Secret lips slant
Italiano Piza
So why would she
even
shred his French
lady onions?
The British tea
party
Alice went
money maddocks
Bitcoins bird flocks
Mr. Smart money hand
Why the wrong man
Getting Stuck
Mr. Bull **** Buck
The Agent double
007
Agency lifted
money 666
Smiles of
sanity
No-one was pure____
((Olive Oil))
Minds 14 karats
money or nothing
Pots and pans
Chicks 4 free
The Millions of madmen
Cigarette lady revenge
Maxine's lips
was counterfeit
Her biggest fan the
Pure one virginity
Gave her most
freedom serenity
Dutchess master plan
Gucci men lips
found guilty
Red be hearted
fanlight
Max I-million wanted
to get out of the heat_____$$$
His stubborn
partner
in crime big loss
Her vivacious lips
Tangled web trillions
He was ******
I cannot believe
it's not butter
Spreadsheets
The maid's swept
up the cash
millions went in
her mother's trash
Maximum
Overdrive
Belle Sacrifice
yourself
Respect
yourself
Ringing the
Ben Frankin
singing bell
Aretha
Max line 4 Bella
The lip sign summit
Nickname ****
The Darkman
yellow taxi
Max, I million ended
up in Hawaii
To the max extinct
Nowhere near
basic instinct
Lips leopard impact
Cigarette lady making
Diamond rounds
Bulletproof purse
Max, I million
Explosive words
Is she and his
money
flames
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC
This is my graduation class
and I have bunked quite a few of them.
terrifyingly I realize it has to be a long time
for I am frantically looking for the college
the home of my graduation class
and here I am groping to get my way back
asking people the way to my college!
Must be my long absence playing tricks on my memory
but that hardly makes sense.
At last I find out the iron gate
from there a narrow passage shows flight of stairs
but my class, which floor is my class?
doesn't strike me the hush
as I run up the steps
wasn't it the fourth floor?
and when I reach it gasp for breath
my graduation class looks unfamiliar
so is the head stooping under the table lamp
his specs almost falling from nose
intently gazing at something
from the maze of electrical apparatuses spread before him.
I don't recollect having ever a teacher like him
but today I don't trust my memories
too many things I have forgotten
must be the fallout of missing classes for too long
the man there in my graduation class
has to be my teacher!
He looks up as I start speaking
*I'm sorry sir, being ill I've missed some classes
but I'll manage to catch up.*
Then it happens
my bag swings in the air
pulled by an invisible force!
He smiles at my awed face
*don't bother, you know, it's so strong
the electromagnetic field of course
such nasty pulls they make*
in a flash a floodgate opens
my graduation class doesn't have a lab inside
my bag by now flying in the air is an office bag
I have no business in the college anymore
I had left my graduation class
over three decades ago!
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
I wear a love-proof vest, swallowing bullets with my face—
all my scars know their taste. My hopes are all on diet to fit
today’s problems; spray-painted days, worries tagged across
the night— each thought a vandalism I can’t scrub away.
Fruitful passions, I can’t stomach passionfruit in my punch.
Life loves to punch back harder— each sip a reminder that
sweetness still bruises. Young & depressed: insecurities
overdressed, confidence underdressed, thoughts pressed
into stress.
Life asks you for a ruler, to lay it down smoother, measuring
the depth of your love. But... it doesn’t apply so well to me,
when I bunked a few lessons as a day-schooler. Always trying
to fit in by being cooler, amongst a circle of friends, but really,
we were just squares— boxed in by our insecurities; angles
sharper than the bonds we bent. And I try to pray long—
but sometimes, I digress. Sorry… what were we saying?
So much emptiness, schemes plotted against me, reality
never stretching as far as dreams. Illuding the fact, illusions
often feel more real. Interluding between horizons: am I ahead,
or beneath the dark where even stars are too shy to come out?
Hope still comes as a guest. Still wishing for superpowers:
invisible to pain, invincible to scars, shapeshifting to belong.
Force fields to block their touch. Time manipulation— just to
keep up with the times. X-ray vision to see through their false
intentions. Superspeed to outrun the pain. Healing to undo my
shame.
But in the end, I have no cape, no mask, no trick of the pen—
I'm only human. And I’ll be human to the end, recalling the
feeling of being young & depressed.
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 6:00 AM UTC
The moon and stars they wept.
The grey blanket of clouds covered the light source.
The morning sun was dead.
In a bunked lowly chair I sat as I stare the first drop of sky's tears fall in the windowpane.
It's like watching a full played orchestra.
The loud crackles of every droplet hitting my roof sounded like violins.
The wind steered the tempo of each cello sounding raindrops.
Marvelous harmonies of saxophones, bassoons, oboes, clarinets and flutes symphonized the silence.
Sky, the orchestra conductor is crying.
So am I.
Then I remembered, that I'll play a function too.
I'm the orchestra's vocal soloist.
Oh, here's my part . . . I screamed.
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 3:52 AM UTC
I. The day I realized
That you were out there
Almost within my reach again
II. The day you proposed
And we ditched school to
Celebrate
III. The day we first kissed
And my heart jumped so hard
In my chest that I actually jumped
IV. The day we went to Newport
And I cried because my love
Overwhelmed me with my desire
To one day be your wife
V. The last day we had together,
Despite the ending it was still
My favorite birthday because I had you,
My favorite person in one of mt favorite places
VI. The day we spent in Warren
And it was nearly 100° and we
Had like three dollars that we spent
On candy and freshly made soda
VII. The day we first made love
Nervous and new and yet still
So worth while
VIII. The day we bunked
And you told me you loved me
For the first time in our relationship
And my heart broke free from my chains
And I said that I loved you too
IX. The day we met to kiss
After so long and we talked for
An hour instead before I finally kissed you
And the magic of your lips once again
Made my heart flutter
X. The day, just any day
That we spent at home together
Laying in bed, cuddled up
And made love and cooked
And watched TV together
And we were free and we,
We were happy.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC