"clancy" poems
It's a **** count down on Rockies ranch
Rock's got the list
and Clancy's got the **** counter
listen to Rock sing his favorite song
good old Cockity ****
to see how many heads pop up
time is a ticking
counting all those chickens
so cockity ****
get them heads up
my lovely *****
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 8:12 AM UTC
THE NEW YEAR TIGER HAS GRACED US WITH HIS PRESENCE
YA SEE GRAWL GOES THE BIG TIGER
AS WE ARE ABOUT TO CELEBRATE A GREAT NEW YEARS FEAST
YA SEE YOU MIGHT BE SITTING AT HOME
WITH YA KEBABS AND SNAGS AND STEAKS AND ****
BUT I CAN TELL YOU ONE THING
THAT YOU DON’T HAVE TO COOK FOR THE NEW YEAR TIGER
CAUSE BEING A TIGER HE LIKES IT RAW
YEAH ROAR GOES THE NEW YEAR TIGER TONIGHT
ROAR GOES THE NEW YEAR TIGER, YEAH
ROAR GOES THE NEW YEAR TIGER TONIGHT
AND WE’LL PARTY RIGHT TILL MIDNIGHT
MIDNIGHT, THE ONE MIDNIGHT WHEN HE DROP THE BALL, HAVE FIREWORKS DISPLAYS
ALL OVER THE PLACE, AND HAVE A TIGER GROWL
EXPLAINING, HE IS THE NEW YEAR TIGER
AND COMING TO GRAB ALL THE GRUB AND *****
THAN HE CAN POKE A STICK AT
NEW YEAR TIGER NEW YEAR TIGER NEW YEAR TIGER
WHAT A WAY TO END THE YEAR, OH NO, WAY
THE HAPPY GO LUCKY CAT, NEW YEAR TIGER
PARTIES ALL THROUGH THE LAND
YA SEE WE COUNT DOWN WITH HIM
RIGHT DOWN FROM TOP TO BOTTOM OH YEAH
AND THE MEN ASKED THE NEW YEAR TIGER FOR
A NICE COLD CAN OF BEER
DRINK IT DOWN, BURP IT OUT
MAKE THE NEW YEAR FUN, COME UP AND DOWN
MR HAPPY CHICKS SAID TO ME
THE NEW YEAR TIGER IS THE COOLEST ***** THAT YOU’LL EVER SEE
THE NEW YEAR TIGER GROWLS FOR A GOOD TIME
AND GROWLS FOR A BAD TIME
HE GROWLS AT ANYTIME, TO TICKLE YA FANCY
LIKE MY MATE NANCY, DO A DANCEY
LIKE YOUR MATE CLANCY, WHO WAS THE TIGER THEY CROSSED WITH A LION
TO CALL IT A TIGON,
WE WISH YOU A HAPPY NEW YEAR
WE WISH YOU A HAPPY NEW YEAR
WE WISH YOU A HAPPY NEW YEAR
FROM THE NEW YEAR TIGER TO YOU, GROOOOOWWWL, HAPPY NEW YEAR
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just "on spec", addressed as follows, "Clancy, of The Overflow".
And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar)
Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
"Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are."
In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving "down the Cooper" where the Western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.
And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars.
I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, ***** city
Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all
And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street,
And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless ***** of feet.
And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.
And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,
While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal —
But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of "The Overflow".
3.7k
Bedroom’s painted fisherman’s blue
There’s a cut out of Hayden Panettiere naked in a pink bikini with a hula-hoop on the back of the door
Copies of British Vogue desperately hidden underneath the bed accompanying an empty bottle of Glen’s
Manchester United duvet cover and matching pillows to boot
The bin’s filled with pre-packed home-made lunches from the last six months
Wardrobes a collection of ill fitting blue jeans bought for me by grandmother and football jerseys for teams that I’ve never even heard of, yet let alone see play a single game
Uniform ironed and sitting out ready for school on Monday at 8am sharp
***** clothes cover mostly all the floor smelling of Lynx’s finest even though there’s an empty laundry basket just waiting in the corner to be used
Inside one of the woolen blazer’s (that is way too big for me) pockets a single unopened ****** and an AES 256-bit encrypted USB stick
An old PlayStation 2, with a single controller; games including FIFA years through 2004 to now, Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell, and GTA.
Blood red shoplifted lipstick that’s now melted hidden in the little secret compartment at the back, meant for network expansion.
Artemis Fowl, Alex Rider, and Harry Potter all adorn the bookcase
Physics, Maths, and IT textbooks remain firmly closed on the desk in addition to a smashed phone from me and Daddy’s last “physical altercation”
Lady Gaga’s “I Like it Rough” is playing in the background on repeat…
Aug 23, 2020
Aug 23, 2020 at 2:43 PM UTC
Like sugar from a shaker, snow falls on Saul the baker
delivering steamy biscuits from the shop he calls his home
to a drafty run down mansion where the princess on her pension
can be testy with her tension, hence she's living on her own.
Today he took her order, "One fresh bagel, for a quarter
'cause I haven't seen the likes of one since I left my childhood home".
Well he'd never baked a bagel, but he's not one to finagle
and wanting just to please her, finds a recipe from Rome.
And he's thinking to himself, "I must be way out of mind~
no woman's gonna want a baker's life"
but he carries deep inside his heart, the will to be a friend
hoping someday she will come around and one day be his wife.
So to win her deep affection he packs up his best confection
takes his chances on the back roads, now iced over in the storm.
Finds her waiting in the foyer with her thrifty 5 cent lawyer
complaining 'bout the day old bread and... "this bagel isn't warm!"
So..... he heats it on the fire, 'cause her heart is his desire
but she won't accept the bagel for it's not quite the right form
And he's thinking to himself, "I must be way out of mind
no woman gonna want a baker's life"
but he carries deep inside his heart, the will to be a friend
hoping someday she will come around and one day be his wife.
So he runs back to his bagel board and pounds the dough and rolls a cord
and shapes the perfect circle to a bagel lovers dream,
He boils and then he bakes it and to her mansion then he takes it
piping hot but now she wants it with churned butter from fresh cream!
Well he's starting to get antsy but he knows the farmer, Clancy
whose butter is fresh-churned and known by counties far and wide.
He heads out to the pasture and he buys what he is after
and returns to find, 'tis so unkind, the princess, she had died.
The baker in his stricken state swallows the bagel off the plate
he calls the cops, pulls out the stops and serves the day old bread.
He gives the details more than once of how he ate the evidence
and though he thought his story bought, they arrested him instead.
"Tis a likely story", was the only thing he heard
although they'd bought his baked goods, they could not buy his word.
"The Baker is a Butcher", is what the tabloid said,
"better to take your bagel cold than take it in the head."
But all was not as it appears, she owed the butcher in arrears
and when they went to check her craw they found a hunk of mutton.
It ended all without a trial, the butcher he did reconcile
and posted "Pay the butcher now and do not to be a glutton."
And Saul was thinking to himself, " I must be way out of mind",
no woman's gonna want a baker's life",
but he carried deep inside his heart the will to be a friend
and it turned rather nicely as she willed him in the end.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
Catch the child
--
Falling from the balcony
---
The street is hard
--
--
--
Remember all the pictures of fruit peddlers
On 1920's
NYC streets
--
Remember " the one"
----
---
Oh ....& i want to mention to you
That I really DID love the girl on Clancy st.
You know
The 3d floor over the bar
---
What happened?
I really don't know
------
Everything is
So many years ago
------
---
--
--
Yeah
--
Catch the child
-
Falling from the balcony
-
&
Take him somewhere
Nice
If you can
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 10:50 PM UTC
Deaths Of 2013
My third year doing this.
Paul Walker, Texas ranger,
driving fast leads to danger.
Matt Osbourne was Doink The Clown,
Paul Bearer always wore a frown.
Dennis Farina and James Gandolfini,
always played a mobster meany.
Peter O'Toole, famous actor,
Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher.
President Nelson Mandela,
Dennis Burkley, was a famous fat actor fella.
Lou Reed, is now on the wild side,
took all the colored girls for a ride.
Conrad Bain and Bonnie Franklin,
tv actors who had white skin.
Paul Blair and Stan The Man,
playing baseball, when they can.
Marcia Wallace and Lisa Robin Kelly,
both had ***** that bounced like jelly.
Tom Clancy wrote famous books,
not much on having good looks.
Cory Montieth and Patti Page,
one died young, other of old age.
Jean Stapleton, was Edith Bunker,
Archie always put her in the dumper.
Pat Summerall and Deacon Jones,
played football and broke some bones.
Dr. Joyce Brothers and Pauline Phillips,
they both gave good and bad tips.
Ray Manzarek, from The Doors,
Jeff Hanneman knew all Slayers chords.
Chrissy Amphlett, liked to touch herself,
Caleb Moore's trophies are on his shelf.
Mindy McCready and George Jones,
both hit those country tones.
Chris Kelly from Kris Kross,
Ed Koch is a New York loss.
David Frost and Roger Ebert,
always had words to insert.
Anneitte Funicello from Mickey Mouse Club,
Eydie Gorme almost got a snub.
Jonathan Winters, was very funny,
to come from Mork's egg, made him money.
If you don't know who these people are,
look them up, internet not very far.
For the ones that I missed,
please don't get to ******
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
I will write 100 poems to make people feel at ease
Like Clancy of the overflow
Mulga bill and buttons and bows
Those 100 poems will be
The best I ever wrote
You see working class man
And blue sky mine and waltzing Matilda and buttons and bows
I want to support my footy team
And cheer very loud
Saying go Sydney go Green Bay
Go Barcelona nothing better than buttons and bows
I want to be rich you see
Make a lot of cash
I will have a party with alcohol
And bob hope singing buttons and bows
Making us happy with buttons and bows
I want to watch a tv show like a great soap opera
Like home and away packed to the radars 800 words and buttons and bows
Days of our lives and neighbours and young and the restless and buttons and bows
Bold and the beautiful and buttons and bows
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 5:28 AM UTC
Rocking my snap back, blowing up like a bellow back, juggling bars like it were a hacky sack. Life tries it’s best to give me set backs, but I just sit back and get back up for a comeback. Underdog from the underground, not here to blunder around for I want to be glory bound. Bound for glory, can’t keep me downed man for this is my heroes story. Story of my life, story that almost ended with a knife. Had enough of being left astray, for I no longer was going let myself be treated like an ashtray. Going into the fray, going in but this time I promise I won’t lose my way. Weighed my options, weighted the choices, and now they come to flourishing motion. I only listen to my own notions, and I will sacrifice anything to succeed even if I end up like the borthans. Death stares through the stars, but I won’t be taken by no Death Star. Starting ground up, for you gotta do what ever it takes to get to the top. Toppled the haters and the fakers, for my bars are like eating a snickers. Keep yawl satisfied and I’m so grateful that my effort has been gratified. Bonified dignified undenied modified undefined went in applied and rallied from a moral guide to tear apart the diseased hide. Government conspiracy, government deemed freedom of speech as heresy. And here I see the flaws, and here I came out of the depths with my claws. Clawed for my dream, dream of attaining cream. Escaped the depths of the Demi-gorgan pit, because it’s all about survival of those who are more fit. Fit to be a decency, but because I’m different I’m deemed a discrepancy. So I’m going in like a ghost doing recon call me Tom Clancy, exposing all these ******* fallacies. Falling down an icy slope, and for the longest time we couldn’t open up because we was introduced to dope which was anything but dope. Dopamine filling my being, neurotransmitters firing so fast that I attain this happy feeling. False perceptions to stimulants, false ideals gotta use discretion’s before I end up in a addiction predicament. Moving fast, moving slow, the ride won’t last, so I always gotta have me mo. Self medicate self evaporate self ********** which leads to self hate and broken fate.Too long since I noticed anything but myself, feel like a ***** villain man so should I arrest my self. I just long for rest myself, and maybe it’s time for someone else to assess myself. Maybe it’s time to visit the mental asylum
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 2:45 AM UTC
When I got that call
I knew it was foul
I heard the name Jon
And I knew he was gone
Like a game of chess
He died a pawn
Never had time
To grow and spawn
The next couple days
Were filled with greys
I was feelin very blue
Not a clue what to do
Tryin to find out what I’m doin
I ended up missin the viewin
Missed my last chance to see
Where he would forever be
Man I feel bad
For Shamawd and Nancy
Sounds like a story
Straight from Tom Clancy
On April seven
He was sent to heaven
Or at least we hope
Cause he was sellin that dope
I wonder if I’ll ever
Be able to cope
We use to always play ball
And chill at the mall
I rue the day
When I got that call
People always say
Live and Die by the burner
But I’m the one
Whose brother got murdered
Your life was took
And now mines shook
Some people think
That you were a crook
But they didn’t know
That person inside
The one hiddin in you
Behind all that pride
You were on a mission
But you would never listen
And now were all sorry
Dealing with this quarry
Feeling like we
Should all go on Maury
Povich is a *****
You used to always say
But on April seven
At about eleven
You were shot and stripped
Dropped in a ditch
Now that I think
Was you a Crip?
Naw you was smarter then that
You always tried to earn it
But then again
You had your Unit
But that’s all in the past
The good memories will last
And dog you did
Go out wit a blast
Just like you said
But now you dead
2 in the shoulder
2 in the head
All cause of what
Some counterfeit bread?
Only a few people know
What really went on
The problem is
One of em’s gone
In my eyes
You were never a pawn
You were always the king
You had all the bling
And if you used your head
You’d have everything
The reality is
That it’s too late
Its unfortunate dog
Checkmate
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 5:00 AM UTC
an errant pirate has been active
in the copying caper
naffing off with other poet's
scripted draper
this person was seen to be doing
some stanza reproduction
using a falsified form of title
introduction
as bold as brass
pinching what takes the fancy
not caring about the original
Nancy or Clancy
those who think that stealing
other writer's material is okay
have need of gearing
their scruples the right way
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
Here he has freedom—flight!
mixed up with glamour and excitement—travel, luxury, and escape:
These are the wool of bat and tongue of dog that flavors the hell broth of the alcoholic soul.
- Clancy Martin
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 3:49 AM UTC
You left me alone to follow your impossible dream to live in Nashville to become a musician and thatwill never be. You are stay at the Nashville Men's Rescue Mission and sing two days at Clancy;s Cafe and you still have no real work or healthcare I don't understand this impossible dream. Do you like being a vagabond and homeless person. Living off charity of your church of Christ. Panhadling, living off Big John, and associating with white trash what shame!!!! You had a great chance to better yourself at Breakthrough Ministries in Chicago when we first arrived. Oh I like this city better Nashville Tennessee and you blocked me on your facebook because I refused to marry you. All you cared about was your *** life with me but in truth I gave you everything and lost my indentity and sanity. Look into your mirror and who do you see a toothless, pityful, homeless, 58 year old man who blew a good thing.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
Fancy Nancy O'Clancy,
From the fanciest part of town,
Came to the Saturday Dance
Wearing the fanciest gown.
The ladies all noticed how Nancy,
From the moment she took off her shawl,
Held all the boys in a trance,
As the fanciest girl at the ball.
I knew right away that miss Nancy
Would dance with each guy for a while,
But for me there wasn't a chance;
I knew that I wasn't her style.
The fellas all gathered 'round Nancy,
But through them, I managed to see;
Her eyes met mine in a glance,
And Nancy smiled at me.
My heart stood still for a moment,
My temperature rose a degree,
I thought there might be a chance
That Nancy would dance with me.
I walked 'cross the room toward Nancy,
Determined I wouldn't be meek;
I started to ask her to dance,
But I was too nervous to speak.
For a while we just stared at each other;
When the tension appeared at it's worst,
A voice from the crowd broke the trance,
Saying, "Look who she's dancing with first!"
Though trembling, I escorted Nancy
To the dance floor while everyone stared;
The music began and we danced,
And that's when I knew that she cared.
Fancy Nancy O'Clancy
Waltzed with me all through the night,
And since that Saturday dance,
She hasn't been out of my sight.
Now me and Nancy O'Clancy
Are married and glad as can be,
All because Fancy Nancy
Took a fancy to me.
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 5:33 PM UTC
Ellekari Larsson is haunting my radio tonight,
My lungs burn once again,
As the smoke enters and leaves my body,
Floating lazilly upward to form a blanket of roiling grey.
I looked at my bookshelf today,
And realized with a start,
That I had a shelf of momentos,
Of those who were long gone.
A folded flag,
A well worn tie,
A photo of a man and boy both laughing,
A teddy bear and a cross made out of a straw,
All snapshots to help me remember.
Times that were better,
Even some that were worst,
But important all the same,
For aren't the most important lessons those that hurt, even if just a little?
A charcoal rubbing of an inscription,
A Tom Clancy novel with a dog-eared page about halfway through,
It hurts to look at these momentos sometimes,
But it feels like a betrayal to look away.
The piano and cello amble slowly along,
Like pall bearers shouldering a weight upon their shoulders,
Both physical and emotional.
A copper disc embossed with hands held together in prayer,
An antique Mr.Goodbar tin,
Containing an ascot and a box of matches.
The song slowly comes to an end and I can finally look away,
Take a drag from the cigarette,
Nearly burnt down to the filter,
As I get lost in my thoughts again.
Jan 16, 2018
Jan 16, 2018 at 1:50 AM UTC
Have it your way Robert you want distance and to be poor white trash in the streets of Nashville with no health care, no home of your own accept the men'mission and theroom in the inn at 705 Drexel Place. You want to be a Peter Pan, awomanizer, anda want to be musician which has not transpired into anything. You are a vagabond hobo and just because you have a a stretch at Clancy's Cafe does not guarantee yoy a place the lime light' You donot acknowledge m[y little tokens I sent you have it your way. Karma will get you I promise one day. I will not even try to reason wirth you. I hope and pray you are happy with street ***** you pick up on-line and they find out all about you and kick you to the curb.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
On and island somewhere there long sat a man
with a smile on his face and drink in his hand
With skin made of ivory, and hair set ablaze
he sat on his island and stared through the waves
He laughed and murmured and occasionally cried
as he walked with them all as they waded through life
And slowly they joined him, to sit on his beach,
To laugh and to love as waves broke at their feet
When the last one had joined them and all tears were shed,
He got to his feet and joyously said,
I've been with you always, I've watched through the years.
I'm proud of you all but at long last you're here,
But where are my manners, you've all come so far,
So ladies and gentlemen, please join me at the bar.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
You know, there's been a lot of talk about identity
What parts you have your skin tone whether or not you're the heir to a throne what's wrong with us? Why are we so fixated on division and not inclusion? We're not all Tom Clancy but can you answer me this... why is the word division even in our language? Why can't we transition from an ice cube tray to a melting *** is why this was written?
Can we as one act as one? Love as one? Protect as one before we divide ourselves from 0 and become irrational? Or can we get on one accord and work for the betterment of us all?
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 12:04 AM UTC
listening to the music you showed me:
Butch Clancy
"for yours are the sweetest eyes
I've ever seen"
only digs the knife in my stomach
deeper, to my heart--
to the slice you left of my skin,
my ears, reminded daily
of how you made me feel.
how good
how bad
how deserted
I'll call it a victory if
I go one day
without picturing your face,
listening to you
in my earbuds...
I guess it's time to find
some new music.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 12:20 PM UTC
A ticklish young lady named Nancy
Was wooed by a fellow named Clancy.
Though he tickled her pink,
What made her heart sink
Was: he didn't tickle her fancy.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 12:37 AM UTC
Adventure Days
They say a cornered man will fight till the end
For simply has nothing to lose
Except his life when the cards are revealed
The dice is rolled ***** to the wall kaput
You know what I mean no more examples
Need to be said but one final example
That of Ukraine in February 2022
Since late 2021 the nation has been
Threatened by Neo Soviet Russia
Surrounded on 3 sides by hostile land
The 4th side is water which they can own
NATO flew in Javelin and Stinger missiles
To **** tanks choppers and jets
The Ukrainians have enough bullets
Most made in Russia or the Soviet Union
To **** their fellow brothers who turned
On them in the worst case of cabin fever
That Europe has seen since Yugoslavia
And Marshall Tito's precious union died
This will be far worse than that
Could **** millions ruin Europe the world
Trigger World War 3 like a Tom Clancy book
Or a video game or heavy metal song or film
But this little escapade by Putin is real
He re-armed Russia and wants his empire back
He's part way there but millions will refuse
To be ruled from Moscow and be proxies again
Those days are gone except in his rabid mind
Soon his army must be used or go home
It is tiring and costs millions to be ready
The 200,000 Russian Red Army at readiness
Waiting for the order to invade their kin
Over the border brothers and sisters
Many with dual nationality and identity
But Ukraine is a sovereign nation
And will fight back as they've done since 14
When Putin the Dog annexed Crimea
And took East Ukraine which he still holds now
He wants the rest and for them to be his
Never ever join NATO and be European pals
Plus allied to the Yankees his worst nightmare
Ruining his dream the world their lives WHY???
Mar 4, 2022
Mar 4, 2022 at 8:30 PM UTC
A WONDER TOLD SHYLY
(for Res)
He cradles it
palm to palm
like a newborn.
Talks to it
tenderly
as if his self
was talking to his soul
& the squeezebox
with a little wheeze
(that's almost
human)
talks back to him
in music
(the language
of the soul)
and we
overhear
this private
conversation
&
are still
drinking deep
of its beauty
*******
A WONDER TOLD SHYLY is about that wonderful moment in the concert when Liam Clancy slings the guitar to the side and recites Austin Clarke's THE PLANTER'S DAUGHTER and then asks the squeezebox about a plaintive Irish air.
As Clarke's poem puts it....' like a bell that is rung...like a wonder told shyly...and oh she was the Sunday in every week!'
Nov 13, 2023
Nov 13, 2023 at 8:27 AM UTC