"caddy" poems
**One solitary teabag, not enough for two to share
just one for the teapot, the caddy being quite bare,
no drawing of the water, no mashing of the ***
no teabag for each person... while shopping I forgot,
with saucers on the table, there's no teacup at the lips
for the corner store's not open, to buy more 'PG Tips',
it's tea-less in the cupboard, no tasty leaf to brew
so I will have a coffee... and make tea, just for you.**
... ... ...
'trademark'
Apr 10, 2011
Apr 10, 2011 at 3:31 AM UTC
I send my voice into your mouth
You return the compliment
I am the Count of Cannizzaro
You are Her Royal Highness the Princess Augusta
I am the thaumaturgic chain
You hold the opera glass and cards
You become extemporaneous song
I am your tutor
You are my invisible seed
I am Timour the Tartar
You are my curious trick
I your enchanted caddy
I am your confounding doll
You my confounded dummy.
4.3k
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Though glass, it is rimmed with gold
around the cup, handle and even the
saucer. Skilfully painted chrysanthemums
of various shades; the vermilion horizon,
Spring's honey, songbird's magenta,
sangria's fine wine, a parakeet's breast
and the Aegean sea.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
And then, there are three sightly tea
caddies with lacquered wooden bodies;
one rosewood with red dancing fans,
one burr-oak with golden mountainous
landscape and one maple wood with
green bamboo. Ainhana gently removes
each of their lids by using the cloth, and
presents the pearls that were wrapped
in sun-kissed foil.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
She first lifts the rosewood caddy towards
me. I close my eyes and focus on the scent.
Without peeling back the foil, I know. It takes
me to the far distant Province of Yunnan,
past the snow-kissed mountains and rice
terraces to a very still lake. I noticed that
it began to bubble before a large splash
rose.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
At that moment, I meet the lake's Guardian,
the Imperial Wingless Dragon of legend.
With its wet emerald-kissed scales drinking
the sunlight. It's great body now entwined
in a wispy clouds as it stares at me with
eyes of liquid moons. Its tail crowned
with a peacock feathered eye-spot whips
around in the air, leaving an iridescent
trail of colours.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
With a great leap, he soars through
the air, trumpeting his great roar
that rattles the skies. Just as quickly
as he rose, he descends down with
a Pearl Moon in his brown claw. By
the stroke of its sienna-brown whisker,
the small Moon cracks, presenting me
it's contents, a long kept secret.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
The pearls are the colour of seaweed
with streaks of yellow and burnt umber.
With earthy notes whirls around my
nose, along with some floral sweetness,
burnt caramel licks, dragon spice and
a wisp of apricot. Ah, so I see! One great
guarded secret that he reveals to me!
His best pearls ferment in the womb
of the Moons! Purified by the Star
Virtues of Elysia's Harmony!
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Wonderfully rich Pu-erh Pearls,'
I say, my eyes now open.
'My Lady's nose is as sharp as ever!'
'I just know my tea,' I chuckle, 'it's
very unique in smell and taste. I will
save such fine broth for another day.'
Ainhana nods, places on the tray and
lift the burr-oak caddy. I close my
eyes once again and my mind
wanders yet again.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 4:20 AM UTC
The casket was coming up, swaying and wobbling
Like a novice skater’s layover spin,
The workings proceeding apace,
The stillness of the August heat
Punctuated by disinterested growl of the backhoe,
The occasional out-of-place jocularity by the excavators
The creaky jingle of the chains holding the muddied box
As it proceeded skyward in its clumsy poor-man’s Resurrection.
The affair was being observed by an elderly couple,
Old enough to be of no particular age.
Their car had Carolina plates,
But their inflections, their casually-tossed idioms
They noted that ruefully The grass needs mowed)
Marked them as natives.
They’d returned (Last time, most likely,
The wife uttered mournfully)
To take their son with them; he’d drowned when was five? six?
(The years will do that to a body, apparently)
In Kinzua Creek some half-century ago,
Back when little boys weren’t under a mandate
To be safe from themselves, as it were.
He was our boy! We’ve never forgotten him!
The old man said, the words snapping off
In a manner that spoke of something else altogether,
How the whistle at the Montmorenci
Went off at three and eleven for second shift,
And your *** had better be there,
As those were good jobs that didn’t wait for bereavement leave,
Because there was always someone
Just itching to take your spot on the line,
And anyway life went on,
At least in the sense that television screens went all to snow
And tires went flat and fuses blew
And eventually a dead child
Is not always in the forefront of your thoughts,
Only tiptoeing in when the Press ran a picture
Of the Montmorenci Area Class of whenever,
Or there was an item about some other family
Who opened their front door
To a grim sheriff’s deputy with his hat in his hand.
Eventually, after some time
And in defiance of both the odds and gravity,
The casket was settled into the back
Of the undertaker’s huge old black Caddy,
And the couple cane-toddled back to their car,
Following out the through the old spider-like gates
And onto the main road.
The brief procession fading from sight,
Until there was nothing left to see
Save the hillsides covered in old growth pine.
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 11:00 AM UTC
YOU aint no gangsta.
With a pistol grip pump.
******* underaged girls
For money to buy junk.
You’re a player for sure.
Playin with minds of children is easy.
Capitalist pigs like you make me queasy.
You smashin the man?
Youre jackin off to the sounds of the system,
Beatboxin records while the ignorant minds listen.
To illusions of grandeur…
Your caddy rims rollin.
All the while corporations controllin
Your mind.
YOU aint no gangsta
With a pistol grip pump.
youre just a **** Prick-average guy
Walking a racial divide
Elitist **** telling another whitemans lie.
To the masses of laborers.
Buyin what you be sellin
Your notions of success
Aint my version of rebellin.
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 3:40 PM UTC
You always scoop me up with a smile and a wink.
I can't help the smirk that comes in sync,
You open your broken door to let me in
You're straight out of work and you still hold the scent
of the day on you, and we're spent but still I stay on you.
And I don't need to know, but I'll ask "How was it?"
while you're driving through our cities,
for you, I wasn't just a way, I knew.
I stare at the green patches and the spills of blue,
we listen to the radio and I listen to you,
lips glisten as grass and morning dew,
tongues run along them fast, and we have a clue,
and we glance way up ahead, as the cars come to a slow
you lean over and press them to me, under the red glow
You've a hunger and my lips abundant-
a feast, for plunder, and it's no wonder
under the disguise of your caddy sedan,
you're the man whom I call daddy,
a ***** man with a solid plan
and we'll drive by some thirty friends,
and park down and around the bend,
and scramble in through your basement door
even though it's no secret anymore
We'll say hello to your mother,
pretty sure she knows I'm your lover-
and though I hide the shame
cause I don't wanna be lame
My name in your parted mouth
And you in mine, hard down south,
makes for an even better night
than kissing at all of the red lights.
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 10:10 PM UTC
Too many bottles of this wine we can't pronounce
Too many bowls of that green, no lucky charms
The maids come around too much
Parents ain't around enough
Too many joy rides in daddy's jaguar
Too many white lies and white lines
Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends
Super rich kids with nothing but fake friends
Start my day up on the roof
There's nothing like this type of view
Point the clicker at the tube
I prefer expensive news
New car, new girl
New ice, new glass
New watch, good times babe
It's good times, yeah
She wash my back three times a day
This shower head feels so amazing
We'll both be high, the help don't stare
They just walk by, they must don't care
A million one, a million two
A hundred more will never do
Real love, I'm searching for a real love
Real love, I'm searching for a real love
Oh, real love
Close your eyes for what you can't imagine, we are the xany gnashing
Caddy smashing, bratty *** he mad, he snatched his daddy's Jag
And used the **** for batting practice, adamant and he thrashing
Purchasing ****** grams with half the hand of cash you handed
Panicking, patch me up, Pappy done latch keyed us
Toying with Raggy Anns and mammy done had enough
Brash as **** breaching all these aqueducts; don't believe us
Treat us like we can't erupt, yup
We end our day up on the roof
I say I'll jump, I never do
But when I'm drunk I act a fool
Talking 'bout , do they sew wings on tailored suits
I'm on that ledge, she grabs my arm
She slaps my head
It's good times, yeah
Sleeve rips off, I slip, I fall
The market's down like 60 stories
And some don't end the way they should
My silver spoon has fed me good
A million one, a million cash
Close my eyes and feel the crash
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 12:06 AM UTC
royal rulers mighty roar,jungle dwellers all in awe,mountain,bush, pasture, plain,reigns supreme his domain.but...could this kingdom cat compare,on close cut grasses greens of fair?would he fill ten holes for fun?bag nine birdies, not just one.does he stroke a lengthy club?balls that swing thro greeny shrub,best perfecting all he masters,dimpled ***** inbag with castors.would he ryd-her cup of love? use two hands, just one glove?could he bunk-her in the rough?wedge it, chip it, putt the muff.could he ease the game with foreplay?drive it homeward up the fairway,does he eye the aim while kneeling?as caddy guides his pole to feeling,so who's the top dog ***** cat?won't take long to answer that,would lion do it if he could?i know for sure......tiger wood
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 11:32 AM UTC
Wake-up with the pill bottle next to me
Other side is the girl that had *** with me
I know she doesn't love me
I just flaunt some of the money
Then they wanna come see
Get out of bed when they start to kick in
So amazed how I got all these prescriptions
Pill caddy because today I'm on a mission
Driver is out front
Time to put on the front
Get to the office, bursts of motivation
See my partner do it-with no medication
But things are fine, no reason to whine
I got it all
But when I define all, it's where I fall
Money, drugs, mansion
And no hugs from a honey or some laughing
Who will I share it with?
My computer I just stare at it
Give my tasks to my secretary
Because, that's why I pay you, Sheree
I'm just the founder
With a bold face to motivate
No more brown nosing
See, now they brown nose me
But as the clock hits four PM
Look at all our profits, yeah I see them
Time for my downers so I can mellow out
All the guilt, time to throw it out
Let's go out, Sheree
She says yes, not to me...but to the money
Yeah I admit it kinda hurts...
But its all in, A Day's Work
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 7:21 AM UTC
Do you remember that night out by my car.
Daddys Caddy,
bright in the moonlight.
A home for our words, carefully choosen,
sometimes not.
A mutual ground.
A safehaven for thoughts too bold for sunlight.
The darkness helped us, I think.
Protected us from seeing too much,
when too much was being said.
Maybe I was a little drunk.
Thats all it took, some liquid courage,
for you to know that I was sorry.
You touched me then.
Not a "I just want to **** you" touch.
You felt me, deep inside.
You knew the claws of a beast were tearing me down.
Not one that could be tamed,
and could only be suppressed for so long.
He was there and you saw him,
clear in my eyes.
Usually gaurded, fighting him back.
But there he was,
pompous as any.
Jabbing me in the ribs,
"I told you I would get out"
There he was teeth beared and all,
ready to rip me down
right in front of you.
Right in front of my Daddys Caddy.
Claws, teeth and lies.
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 11:45 PM UTC
Barely Legal
Wouldn't change a thing, even if I could,
when I see her, I always sport a wood.
She is so very fine,
seeing her puts me on cloud nine.
Best *** I have ever seen,
hard to believe she is still a teen.
Between he thighs is the Bermuda triangle,
I get lost, but its something I can handle.
Smoothest skin you'll ever feel,
got turned down, but I applied for an appeal.
Hair is down to her ankles,
have to be careful when I light candles.
Our relationship is one of love and hate,
every topic is a heated debate.
She only likes me for my third leg,
to get her, I must always beg.
Our age difference doesn't matter,
I'm always on deck, to be the next batter.
She is not even old enough to drink,
but on the inside, its always pink.
She calls me her sugar daddy,
I always end up being her caddy.
She cheats on me every chance she gets,
but I still have no bitter regrets.
She moved in and steals all my money,
but she is more sweet than any kind of honey.
She is the most sexiest stripper,
I will always be the biggest tipper.
Then one day she was gone,
she used me just like a pawn.
She took my money and stole my new car,
she is now the biggest **** star.
The ***** never did pay me back,
now she is addicted to ****** and crack.
Tracked her down and got her rehabilitated,
she is now truly vindicated.
She lost the devil and found god,
well that's what she calls me, when riding my rod.
It truly is good to be the king,
she's now my queen, not just an expensive fling.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 12:50 AM UTC
Big Daddy
They call me big daddy,
two soft buns with an extra long patty.
Bacon, lettuce, tomato with extra mayonnaise,
women say it's the latest craze.
Tastes so good, it melts in your mouth,
I just love when a girl goes down south.
A foot long hot dog with a bulging vein,
there is no one higher on the food chain.
Some use ketchup, some use mustard,
either way it comes out custard.
Whipped cream with a cherry on top,
if you're a ****** I'll give you a pop.
They call me big daddy,
it's so big, I had to hire a caddy.
I put all **** stars to shame,
they're not even playing the right game.
Even a loose girl feels so tight,
women think I'm black, but I'm really white.
I can't wear shorts it hangs so low,
my third eye just loves to grow.
They call me big daddy,
all my pants are extra baggy.
Girls pay me just for a look,
it's more thick than the New York City phone book.
Don't be jealous that it's so big,
women hire me for their *** toy gig.
Mom must have had a three way,
with John Holmes and Nick The ****
girls pay me just for a lick.
They call me big daddy,
I've had every girl in Cincinnati.
Sorry to say but this story is fiction,
brought on by my sudden *** addiction.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
One: You were my first one.
You lied and cheated on me.
I ******* hate you.
Two: My favorite one.
I have the most fun with you.
I wish we ****** more.
Three: I just kept staring,
Your body is like a god’s.
You don’t work out though.
Four: You weren’t bad or good.
I forget your name sometimes.
It’s probably best.
Five: Terrible rhythm.
Our relationship’s weird.
Never again though.
Six: There was so much pain.
Bigger is not always great.
I miss Zeus a lot.
Seven: You’re just an *******
I hope you catch something, ****
Don’t call me again.
Eight: You were a stranger.
I don’t remember your face.
It was pretty bad.
Nine: I think I love you.
It cannot happen again.
Please keep rocking on.
Ten: You shave, oh thank you.
You look like Josh Caddy too.
Let’s **** again please.
Eleven: There was so much sweat.
I was kinkier than you.
Some of the best ***
Twelve: You kept choking me.
The *** was pretty **** good.
Felt so high after.
Thirteen: Known you forever.
I like what we've got going.
Life is weird sometimes.
Fourteen: You stay by my side.
You love all of my faults too.
I'm in love with you.
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 1:07 PM UTC
Daisy, Daisy give me your answer do........
boy! That Cadillac was one hell of a piece of engineering.
Burned a long time, like it enjoyed the pain of the flames.
He smiled at the thought.
Handmade by union men the way it should always be.
Not those ******* up ***** like Jimmy Hoffa either.
That ******* probably a ****** like hoover.
The image of him in a basque stuck.
Made him angry, but he soon reined it in.
Lecter was never angry. Not in the books.
He prefered the books, no change-the -ending for the mass appeal.
******* movies.
He was cautious now, the fake i.d. for the rental would fool most.
He was pushing things, her blood in the trunk even burnt black worried him. Next time will be better.
In Daisy's book was a circled name with hearts drawn around it.
Louisa. Her address as well. Nice and easy. 200 miles to go.
Make like Rutger in The Hitcher, move west....
The VW Rabbit was a ****** car after the Caddy.
The two kid's didn't want to give it up easy, but they did in the end.
They looked so silly, tied back-to-back in the rear seat, legs broke to squeeze them in.
Made him smile all through the night.
No blood this time, not yet anyway. Playing Slipknot to **** him off, little *****
Well write a song for these two, clown boy.
He had looked on their lap-top at the poetry site.
Saw the latest post from the pub landlord. He was a little confused, this poem didn't seem to be telling him his next move.
He dragged them out into a ditch before dawn, stood on their necks to **** them, like the coyote trappers did, cruel ********
No blood, just **** all over each other as they died.
Maybe he'd get a reward poem for doing it, in the meantime finding Louisa would keep him occupied.
The vw had a cheap sat nav, hope she's home.....
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 3:20 PM UTC
"I am the Walrus..." the lyric passed through his head
stood in the pounding sun of Death valley.
He poured the dregs of his mineral water onto the hot dirt.
steam rose fast, as if a conflagration
was ablaze deep in the parched ground.
Not as beautiful a place as the great ergs of the sahara
that he saw on discovery channel
He looked back at the shimmering mirage that was his rental cadillac
not that he'd be taking it back,
not with what was spread all over the trunk....
Daisy had seemed a nice kid, talked a bit too much maybe,
Not saying much now. That thought made him smile.
How her wide her eyes were when she saw the 1911.
A good year for guns, 1911, he thought.
And the Great War just around the corner.
He preferred the phrase the Great War to World War One.
He felt it was more respectful to those who had died.
Daisy hadn't been respectful enough.
So he killed her for the dead heroes sake
Mineral water made him think.
People came to the Valley to work back in the day,
chemicals, minerals, salt maybe..... he wasn't too sure what.
Sure as hell no water.
Before them, travellers, settlers passed through.
Some died, they had no respect, like Daisy.
They thought their teams of oxen could pull up the grade
get them out of the valley, but many couldn't do it.
Died and dried, before the oxen could evolve into something bigger.
Like daisy died before she evolved a respectful brain.
He read about evolution in the Geographic, sort of felt
he was pretty well evolved. Maybe some kind of chosen one.
Thinking of the poor oxen dying made him mad as hell.
He began a slow walk back to the Caddy, there were some numbers and addresses in Daisy's purse.
He smiled to himself, this was going to be a good year,
it was going to be His year...
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 2:37 PM UTC
~
***pitch an putt I never worried about
'cause all my drives were long and stout
now off the tee it doesn't fly so far
and all I can do is hope for par
on my card 3's are 4's and 4's became 5
oh how I long for a 300 yard drive
it's only a game some say unkind
but it grabs at your heart and messes your mind
it's only a game still others proclaim
front nine was fun the back nine shame
so before I tee I ask my Lord
just once put my name atop the leader board
so now it's early to bed so I can dream
of birdies and eagles and a jacket that's green
written by my caddy
Sir Duffy Mulligan
FOUR!***
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
You made me stop believing
in who I was.
You slapped my *** with your shower caddy--
blamed it on invisibility
with a smirk and a wink in my direction.
I saw your reflection
in the hall mirror from the corner of my eye.
Your body was full and half-clothed,
your imagination molding me
as I stood there innocent
trying to view myself
the way you saw me.
It was a dark shadow you cast.
I bathed in your deception.
I saw my own reflection--
in my bedroom mirror at midnight
with your hands on the nape of my neck
and your fingers cradling my skull,
flattening my spine into
what you would fit into your figure.
There was your lips on my ear and I heard
a backwards whisper of a promise you swore,
you swore was true.
It wasn't--
and didn't like who I saw.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
remember when we were best friends? and every time you created a rainshower i was always there as the sun to clear up the puddles. remember when we would run our mouths like motor boats but there was always something to talk about. remember when we would laugh until we developed six packs and our lungs gave up remember when we were eachothers diaries remember when we were best friends?
remember on the first day of high school we were eachothers solid rocks and behind eachother every step of the way; and remember the second year when we didnt call. remember when i was there when you stole that snickers but i sealed my mouth as shut as an antique chest and the secret was lost in my secret garden never to be spoken of again. remember when those girls we saw as caddy and were the meaning of mean girls? we always said we would never transform into them. remember when you changed your hair masked your face and caged your feelings to become one of those plastic barbies? remember when you stabbed her in the back and kicked dirt in her face for initiation and left her in the middle of hallway and you flipped your hair up in the uniformed step away..with the mean girls. Honey you were the lindsay lohan of that clique-not the leader but the caboose of that train. you were to blinded by the shiny fame that dangled in your face.
remember when karma came back and bit you in the *** remember the rainshower you created in result of being dropped and kicked to the side, in result of being that doll left on the shelf as result of being that tissue that was blown and thrown away as if you meant nothing remember that?
you finally remembered how i used to be you sun to clear up those puddles and make you warm again but now, you will ALWAYS remember, the way you used up my sun rays and threw me out when finished, the way you ran over my feet in order to get in that line the way you made me my spine just a little bit stronger with the tears that watered my esteem.
but what goes around comes around. im no longer your sunshine, but im now the darkness that lurks, that nothingness, i have no more rays of sunshine to warm you up and pick you up,
for what goes around comes around
i bet you will always remember that.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 5:34 PM UTC
pouring out the cold coffee
but the bitter taste is in my mouth
got some coffee for your nose hole
heres a little, try it out
perks you up a little bit
give it a sec, it slows you down
got you flying high
but now its cold so we're flying south.
Down to El Paso
where the coffees made with stronger beans
skinny young Latinas
rubbing coca powder on their teeth
so obscene
follow me for some color green
headed out to west
see if we can score some cali trees
go to sleep
waking up, kinda feeling phony
need a pick-me-up
we're headed home but we take it slowly.
now
now we're back to the land again
couldn't help but wonder
about these little pills he's handing them
ill try a couple
nah, **** it! Thirteen
rolling harder than a caddy with the brakes cut clean.
but I'm losing it
we were cruising without choosing it
got nailed down to the inverted crucifix
who is this?
that seems to have me by the scruff
If you're looking for a ride
you're gonna get picked up
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
its the rip comin' up
with much reps i keeps my eyes on the prize
g'yeah i improvised on a uprise
cuttin' all the dead weight competition
my ammunition keep suckas in suspension
or lock down when i come around i clown
with the homies and the homettes
got the wet wet to get my brain set
for a drive-by suckas slippin' 40 sippin' 4 dippin' hittin'
multiple switches laughin' at these
punk sons of ******* unload my clips
throw there bodies in the ditches
cut off they ***** n leave it in they mouth
so they know the south
aint no joke loc cuz we smoke
suckas til they wesley snipes color brothers
like me bound for the penitentiary
its a gang were all the low-lifes hang
but things don't ever change
im trapped inside a maze with much blunder
i could've have been successful maybe
if the hood didn't take me under!!!
so many after me cuz we enticed to the same
epitome rap is mind my mind is rap
can't shake the flaks
see my homie in the caddy rollin' with tha **** daddy
gangsta mack kickin' drag to all the hoes with big *****
skipped hardknock classes
went straight to hoods college gainin' knowledge
graduated with honors
from the big timers tellin' me how to make a move
and don't get caught up in the groove
u gots to play it smooth
and be vigilant on ya closest friends
cuz they'll pretend to be ya homies but after ya dividends
thinkin' this bank roll they gone spend? but i lends
my lue to no one only a gun
up in ya grill piece thats the only peace
i see you laying and becomin' one with death
heartbeats slow no hards breath
when i commence to ****** know ya never heard of
me cuz i strike unexpectedly im makin' money
by the ton thats on the one son
ull catch me rollin' in a pimped out 97 honda
maybe id be better off dead if the hood
wouldn't take me under!!!
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC
uh now to part two
ya know what im about to do
**** you crew then to ya baby boo
crazy as a Brooklyn zoo
jump up if ya want too
my 1 2 make ya body shake
more than a holy ghost
smoke the most givin a toast
death yea so i hate to boast
haters try but cant come close
makin' most im passoverdose
**** seed n liqour got me drunk indeed
ya know how i flow
gotta make money mo
so **** a ** then check tha **
in the clubs still throwin' bows
check how my caddy spinnin' on vogues
white walls about seven inches tall now why dont ya fall
way back like lebron hairline
ya i like to exquisite dines
with red wine
put that on ya mind when ya grind
i go harder slam ya like Vince Carter
fools think im dumb but my game smarter always a starter
ya rhymes be late so ya cant relate
im.old school fool king of dons know the rules
of war
if ya want it come get it
watch ya neck get slitted
and if ya boys wanna jump too
my guns mad ammos
they can get hit with it
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 2:47 PM UTC
Where were you while we were getting high?
In a back alley with a gold caddy. It was all too late… sadly.
The bridge between joy and pain is being picked apart by your needles and pipes.
The water beneath it lay ridden with the drug poisoned blood of those before you.
You tell yourself you’re gonna make it across one last time.
So you lay down your two wooden boards of deceit to try and cross that ruin of a bridge you so feverishly destroyed.
All the tactics and plans you employed.
Surely made you believe you could make it once more.
You step out onto the makeshift crossing and feel a nice warm breeze run across your face.
You hear the water beneath you crashing and swaying in an all too soothing way.
You just left the mainland headed for happiness bay.
You start to leave the gloomy day and begin to see a beautiful day in the month of may. Flowers blooming. Birds chirping.
All of a sudden your wooden boards are hurting.. they give out. Badly.
You die.. in the back alley.. with a needle in your arm.. puke on the floor of your gold caddy.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 12:38 PM UTC
The President assessed the scene
and gave a terse command.
His caddy grabbed his putter
and put it in Obama’s hand.
The breeze as not a factor
The air was hot and still.
The hole, a dozen feet away,
blocked by a small windmill.
Barrack needed this putt for par.
to help him tie the score.
Boehner got a hole in one
in the clown face just before.
Obama gave his ball a stroke-
it veered wide, an inch or two.
It’s a pity folks are watching
Or he’d lie about that too.
That he should be reduced to this;
Playing at the “Pirate’s cove.
The sequester is a right wing plot
likely dreamed up by Karl Rove.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 7:53 AM UTC