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"daddies" poems
Route 84 would not lend me the light of a star last night Radio blazing at 75 mph nonsense noise to chew gum by Crackling political commentary Static of distance and thick clouds Invisible mountains blocking Memories seeping through the cracks coating the music in a film I rub my eyes watch myself punch alert buttons But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight Roll down the window Watch the heat escape Summer again I am building a castle of ancient stones pulverized by relentless tides Dragged across maps by mastodons and mammoth glaciers The scouring hiss the ocean sighs Time has lulled these smoothly rolling them in the softest hands of sand and gels of life’s comings and goings tenderly tumbling in the millionth moonrise— Time deposits them here wet and glistening For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather Shoulders sun-burnt barely say one week only, one week of the fifty two “It’s the time of the season…” and daddies on the beach are watching…. She has chosen yet another stone And the castle continues— in oblivion to all but her legend…      The queen will be safe here      from the rabble      The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her      Among these lofty cliffs      Between the raging circuit of the tide      Here winds forbid the vengeful mob      Here lovers learn      the debt of love’s bad timing      “Drink ye all of it!”      --the potion that assigns our sorrow….      She will not sleep—      while I chew this gum--  GUM? Roll down the window! Angels escape with the heat Waking me with the brush of their wings As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank And leans on the horn Lights flashing Rude rumbling under right tires Tantrum of snow In the draft of mass and velocity …and the angels? They’ve chosen another good one! They must’ve liked the 80’s Their wings slapping the windshield madly   Their hands steady the wheel
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Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
Angel's Jukebox
Route 84 would not lend me the light of a star last night Radio blazing at 75 mph nonsense noise to chew gum by Crackling political commentary Static of distance and thick clouds Invisible mountains blocking Memories seeping through the cracks coating the music in a film I rub my eyes watch myself punch alert buttons But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight Roll down the window Watch the heat escape Summer again I am building a castle of ancient stones pulverized by relentless tides Dragged across maps by mastodons and mammoth glaciers The scouring hiss the ocean sighs Time has lulled these smoothly rolling them in the softest hands of sand and gels of life’s comings and goings tenderly tumbling in the millionth moonrise— Time deposits them here wet and glistening For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather Shoulders sun-burnt barely say one week only, one week of the fifty two “It’s the time of the season…” and daddies on the beach are watching…. She has chosen yet another stone And the castle continues— in oblivion to all but her legend…      The queen will be safe here      from the rabble      The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her      Among these lofty cliffs      Between the raging circuit of the tide      Here winds forbid the vengeful mob      Here lovers learn      the debt of love’s bad timing      “Drink ye all of it!”      --the potion that assigns our sorrow….      She will not sleep—      while I chew this gum--  GUM? Roll down the window! Angels escape with the heat Waking me with the brush of their wings As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank And leans on the horn Lights flashing Rude rumbling under right tires Tantrum of snow In the draft of mass and velocity …and the angels? They’ve chosen another good one! They must’ve liked the 80’s Their wings slapping the windshield madly   Their hands steady the wheel
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63
She is equipped with sensitive ******* and those other secret places that ladies give out as prizes to deserving guys as long as they adopt the right disguises of gods, gurus, intellectual giants, goats, children, father figures, macho brutes, sugar-daddies, supermen, seminal vessels, house-repairers, jar openers, jocks, hate objects, handy shoulders to cry on, emotional support systems, sensitive, intuitive, yet strong silent types who can also pay the bills, tall dark and handsome total strangers, toy boys, clowns, jugglers, jokers, millionaires, wood choppers, ******* removers, bottomless reservoirs of reassurance or just plain spunky studs when the moon is right. In fact, anything but woffly wimps. Oh God, no.  Anything but woffly wimps. Yes, but what about stoic, steadfast SNAGS, you know, the Sensitive New Age Guys who won’t face-shift for a **** Yes, well, let's try to sum all this up here right now. I think that the woman is dripping with a brimming reservoir of luscious and sensitive resources on tap for   the man who can figure out her cosmic kaleidoscope   of swirling dreams and desires, which is definitely not to say she can’t be totally independent. Although please don't be confused. Friendly boy-next-door types who are handsome, aren't too hairy, who like to laugh, who have a boyish braggadocio, who are students, who appear to be intellectuals, who are not nerds, and who can **** it in the kitchen, who  can be oh, so cool, who can convince a maiden that she is in distress, and is in need of rescuing, while he has a swaggering hard-on will do, too. Oooh. You devil. And if you think this poem is misogynist, misanthropic or myopic, well, I’ve been around and by now, well, I really should be panoptic because I’ve seen all the fads, and really, it’s sadly too bad about those poor old earnest SNAGS. But you know what? I don't think I understand anything, because I'm really a victim of worshiping women. I'm bedazzled and as blind as the next man, and yes, I'm just happy whenever I'm with them.
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Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 8:28 PM UTC
The Woman
She is equipped with sensitive ******* and those other secret places that ladies give out as prizes to deserving guys as long as they adopt the right disguises of gods, gurus, intellectual giants, goats, children, father figures, macho brutes, sugar-daddies, supermen, seminal vessels, house-repairers, jar openers, jocks, hate objects, handy shoulders to cry on, emotional support systems, sensitive, intuitive, yet strong silent types who can also pay the bills, tall dark and handsome total strangers, toy boys, clowns, jugglers, jokers, millionaires, wood choppers, ******* removers, bottomless reservoirs of reassurance or just plain spunky studs when the moon is right. In fact, anything but woffly wimps. Oh God, no.  Anything but woffly wimps. Yes, but what about stoic, steadfast SNAGS, you know, the Sensitive New Age Guys who won’t face-shift for a **** Yes, well, let's try to sum all this up here right now. I think that the woman is dripping with a brimming reservoir of luscious and sensitive resources on tap for   the man who can figure out her cosmic kaleidoscope   of swirling dreams and desires, which is definitely not to say she can’t be totally independent. Although please don't be confused. Friendly boy-next-door types who are handsome, aren't too hairy, who like to laugh, who have a boyish braggadocio, who are students, who appear to be intellectuals, who are not nerds, and who can **** it in the kitchen, who  can be oh, so cool, who can convince a maiden that she is in distress, and is in need of rescuing, while he has a swaggering hard-on will do, too. Oooh. You devil. And if you think this poem is misogynist, misanthropic or myopic, well, I’ve been around and by now, well, I really should be panoptic because I’ve seen all the fads, and really, it’s sadly too bad about those poor old earnest SNAGS. But you know what? I don't think I understand anything, because I'm really a victim of worshiping women. I'm bedazzled and as blind as the next man, and yes, I'm just happy whenever I'm with them.
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52
Picketed, another generation pushing for advancement in the age of reason, Logical, radical movement Trying for less invasive measures of medication To take the blinders off the prejudice of non-conformity and reach the masses A promise to ease the pain, promote healing, the overall good Met with violence, verbal slander, from mommies and daddies afraid of a world outside their white fence, Fearing independence, the expansion of the mind, an openness in their youth to allow radical change. The bloated belt bent backwards, white collar replaced by hedonistic practical libertarians in pursuit of happiness for all Sick, disgusted with the man, the one behind the podium whom allows for this animosity on a group that did everything right, legally sound Tired of hearing the whispers across a university, the hopeful gushing’s of elated individuals bright- eyes naive Of a system that won’t allow something this controversial into the public, afraid to lose their hold on a potential capitol On something that should be as easy to find in a free market as Captain Crunch, Coca-Cola, and Rice Krispy Treats. Grinding down, fluffy-green-crystal bud Dank yellow smoke smoldering out of pipes end, seeping out of closed lips billowing out of nostrils Dragon fire down a throat coated with a week worth of soot, and experience Choking, coughing, laughing away the misery The disappointment in her fellow man to refuse to even consider the validity of a proven product Knowing that if it was anything else a miracle drug composed of fairy dust, unicorn hair and the ***** of a thousand angels; approval would have been immediate. Whip lash. Flick, flame, fumigating Baking myself into a calmer state, watching with ****** off grace Twitching with the need to take action To control this negative reaction, to slap the of face limp **** conservatives So consumed with themselves, blind to the pain of people who have lost hope in other forms of relief Alternative therapy shut off by a system obsessed with its war on drugs.
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Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC
Ballot? What Ballot?
Picketed, another generation pushing for advancement in the age of reason, Logical, radical movement Trying for less invasive measures of medication To take the blinders off the prejudice of non-conformity and reach the masses A promise to ease the pain, promote healing, the overall good Met with violence, verbal slander, from mommies and daddies afraid of a world outside their white fence, Fearing independence, the expansion of the mind, an openness in their youth to allow radical change. The bloated belt bent backwards, white collar replaced by hedonistic practical libertarians in pursuit of happiness for all Sick, disgusted with the man, the one behind the podium whom allows for this animosity on a group that did everything right, legally sound Tired of hearing the whispers across a university, the hopeful gushing’s of elated individuals bright- eyes naive Of a system that won’t allow something this controversial into the public, afraid to lose their hold on a potential capitol On something that should be as easy to find in a free market as Captain Crunch, Coca-Cola, and Rice Krispy Treats. Grinding down, fluffy-green-crystal bud Dank yellow smoke smoldering out of pipes end, seeping out of closed lips billowing out of nostrils Dragon fire down a throat coated with a week worth of soot, and experience Choking, coughing, laughing away the misery The disappointment in her fellow man to refuse to even consider the validity of a proven product Knowing that if it was anything else a miracle drug composed of fairy dust, unicorn hair and the ***** of a thousand angels; approval would have been immediate. Whip lash. Flick, flame, fumigating Baking myself into a calmer state, watching with ****** off grace Twitching with the need to take action To control this negative reaction, to slap the of face limp **** conservatives So consumed with themselves, blind to the pain of people who have lost hope in other forms of relief Alternative therapy shut off by a system obsessed with its war on drugs.
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25
The imaginers of now were children once, each day they each imagined tomorrow. Their daddies had just won the war happy days were really here again, this time. --- Now, we see what we see, it's not what we saw. And this is better than I imagined. My first oral book report was on 1984, in 1962. Percentages and stats, the odds, out of 8 billion… I carry my weight, saltwise, I'm light, too. Immaterial in fact. I watched the internet take form before my very eyes, magi technic never seen since Darius the Mede. Good job, geeks. Reared on radio waves your grandfathers never heard, your signal receptors from mito-mom, oh, what a plan. The promised ones. Many sons. hmmm 60 cycle white noise in the field, the field of fields, Future Farmers of America and stuff Powers we imagined, a color TV we could watch in the backseat for days on Route 66, a restaurant just for kids Toys 'r' Us oh, wow, those came and went and our Grand kids are imagining tomorrow, doin' fine with less of what we thought was cool, taking for granted all I accepted as granted, in the "It is Finished" Golden Parachute Package deal, Grace and Peace that multiplies.
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Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 4:32 AM UTC
The imaginers of now
America, she bleeds for a full week fireworks, freedom, long sighs and holy nights spend days with the couchless and meek then light one up, sink between in her thick thighs underage trickery, plastic cards and daddies to sneak in clubs lauv on the radio and fake love throbbing hard forget ancient grudges, clean cars with new suds party again, launching fire in the sky avoid the cops and pray salvation don't come around too soon, twilight and the sea bug guts on my screen, drinking, repeat until the sun's return
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Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 4:28 AM UTC
independence, weak
She was a Hatfield And I  a McCoy It was just love beween A girl and a boy Our daddies grandaddies And those from before Might think us irreverant To open that door She lived two towns over It was love at first sight.... We would slip out and meet Every Sat. night The neighbors all thought It just wasn't right But we were in love And it wasn't our fight Only two counties apart She lived in West V My home was Kentucky The suitor was me To us it was foolish The feud was so old Even though it was famous From the tales that were told She lived two towns over It was love at first sight.... We would slip out and meet Every Sat. night The neighbors all thought It just wasn't right But we were in love And it wasn't our fight We'd meet after dark At a barn down the line We were not feuding people For that night she was mine We would run off together After school was complete We'd change both our names We would be real discreet She lived two towns over It was love at first sight.... We would slip out and meet Every Sat. night The neighbors all thought It just wasn't right But we were in love And it wasn't our fight Our folks would reject us And spoil our joy Cause here was a Hatfield With a real McCoy For now, we'll be secret Share our love cross the fence And we'll wait till our kin folk Wake up with some sense
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Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 5:15 PM UTC
The Hatfields and McCoys
INSECURE GENERATION The generation of today is living an insecure life. Life full of comparison Possession of things without thinking of what may happen A generation trying to prove others that they are the best A generation where young and energetic men are trying to prove themselves by destroying others. A generation where big and high class daddies destroy the young with material things A confused generation showing their happiness and wealth through photography A confused generation  hard to love people from a broken family          Everything is invalid! We suffer insecurities we didn't create Many are becoming insecure Completely unstable Trying to compare themselves with our today's models and celebrities of our century Probably hiding behind makeup Cause probably without the makeup! They,themselves are a hot mess! They pay a ransom to look great! If beauty is in the eyes of the beholder! Then,why suffer so much trying to look spectacular? Why spend to your last coin attracting a whole lot of people? They say beauty comes from within Our generation need to stand courageously And fight against the enemy of self insecurity!
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Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 10:50 AM UTC
INSECURE GENERATION
Hare Krishna's In their Pickups Depressed Comics Down on their Luck Teenage Girls Screaming Meme's ****** Pinko's* Leftward Leaning Vincent Price Flo and Eddie Rodger Rabbit Priscilla Presley Nuns in Habits Dwarf's in Ponchos Deadbeat Dads Munching Nachos Right-Wing Nut Jobs Trading Slogans A few Hero's Including Hogan Are just a few of the sights you see At the front gates of Graceland Memphis, Tennessee Buddhist Monks With Electric Banjos Holding Signs Up Of Marlon Brando Taxi Cabs Blaring Show Tunes Pregnant Women Down-loading Soon Derby Jockeys Flying Monkeys Kool-Aidholics Skittle Junkies Bozo The Clown Bumper Stickers Psychedelic Crazed Toad Lickers Rhinestone Cowboys In their Skivvies Gothic Girls Heebie Jeebies Are just a few of the sights you see At the front gates of Graceland Memphis, Tennessee Blue Haired Granny's In pink Moo Moos Ballerina's In Tattered Tutus Mathematician's Number Crunchers Even have Some Out to Lunchers Model 50's *Do *** Daddies* One More Round Of Flo and Eddie People Sneaking Across the Border Lonely Fry Cooks Taking Orders A Few Wannabes Not Saying Much Will The Real Elvis Please Stand Up Are just a few of the sights that you see At the front gates of Graceland Memphis, Tennessee Thank you...Thank you very Much Ladies and Gentlemen Elvis...Has Left The Building
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Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
The Front Gates Of Graceland
The gin and juice on my lips What could be better than this? Going around the cities like a homeless Meeting some strangers, smokers, players (Do you have a cigarette? Yeah, of course, you naughty girl) It's so easy to be wrong and bad If I'm wrong I don't wanna be right Could you make me high and dope? I'm too drunk to walk So let's have a ride in nightly cities And the gin I had wasn't that bad, so I had one more He gave me 50 euros, so we gotta get drunk What a badass It's time to leave my daddies And forgot my shameless past Maybe it's time to get drunk What about gin and juice? It's so easy to be wrong and bad If I'm wrong I don't wanna be right Could you make me high and dope? I'm too drunk to walk So let's have a ride in nightly cities Don't wake me up I don't want to cry myself to sleep I just want to say goodbye to Flora's era It's so easy to be wrong and bad If I'm wrong I don't wanna be right Could you make me high and dope? I'm too drunk to walk So let's have a ride in nightly cities
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Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 8:39 AM UTC
Gin and Juice
Daddy, where have you gone? I remember you holding my hand and walking me to school. You said "I love you" and turned and walked away So tell me Daddy, where have you gone? Daddy, where are you? Are you safe,...happy Momma's here, so is Little Joey. So tell me Daddy, where are you? Daddy, are you going to come home? I made potato pancakes hoping you would. Little Joey doesn't remember you, but Momma and I do. So tell me Daddy, are you going to come home? Daddy, have you witnessed death? Momma killed the pigs yesterday, you use to do that. I have witnessed death, So tell me, Daddy, have you witnessed death? Daddy, why did you leave? I watched you walk away. You turned and waved I never saw you again. So tell me Daddy, why did you leave? Daddy, are you happy? Little Joey is always smiling, it makes me and Momma happy too. So tell me, Daddy, are you happy? Daddy, why did you leave? Were you angry with me? Were you angry with little Joey? Were you angry with Momma? So tell me Daddy, why did you leave? Daddy, are you in the War? that is what Suzzie said. Her daddy is in it. So tell me Daddy, are you in the War? Daddy, are you safe? I heard Momma talking about the War. she said it isn't safe. So tell me Daddy, are you safe? Daddy, what is war like? I think it is ****** and lots of people die. Lots of girls lose their Daddies So tell me Daddy, what is war like? Daddy, are you hungry? We have shortages of food now. I am hungry. So tell me Daddy, are you hungry? Daddy, why have you been gone so long? It has been three years since you left me at school. So tell me, Daddy, why have you been gone so long? Daddy, can you come home? Momma is older now. Little Joey isn't little anymore. But I am still the little girl you left at school. So tell me Daddy, can you come home? Daddy, are you dead? Joey thinks you are. Momma refuses to think so I don't know what I think. So tell me Daddy, are you dead? Daddy, are you in Heaven? Are there angles? can I come to Heaven if you are there? So tell me Daddy, are you in Heaven? Daddy, are you missing? Suzzie's daddy is, and I thought you might be too. So tell me, Daddy, are you missing? Daddy, do you miss me? Momma misses you, so does Joey, even though he doesn't remember you. I miss you too. So tell me, Daddy, do you miss me? Daddy, will you be there for my wedding? I have always wanted you to be there, But now Joey is here, He is going to give me away For my wedding, if you aren’t there, So tell me Daddy, will you be there for my wedding? Daddy, will you be there for the birth of your first grandchild? Momma will be, And I want you to be too. So tell me, Daddy, will you be there for the birth of your first grandchild? Daddy, did you find Momma? She left yesterday, she Wanted to see you, Just like I want to see you. So tell me, Daddy, did you find Momma? Daddy, did you meet John? He was my second born, He died last week. Did Momma meet him? So tell me, Daddy, did you meet John? Daddy, will you meet me in Heaven? I will be coming soon, Joey went to the war like you. I want to see him before I leave, So tell me, Daddy, will you meet me in Heaven? Daddy, do you miss me? I missed you tons, Over the years, but now I will See you again, Daddy, this is my last breath, I will see you soon, but Daddy please, Tell me, Did you miss me like I missed you?
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Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 8:10 PM UTC
Daddy, do you miss me?
Daddy, where have you gone? I remember you holding my hand and walking me to school. You said "I love you" and turned and walked away So tell me Daddy, where have you gone? Daddy, where are you? Are you safe,...happy Momma's here, so is Little Joey. So tell me Daddy, where are you? Daddy, are you going to come home? I made potato pancakes hoping you would. Little Joey doesn't remember you, but Momma and I do. So tell me Daddy, are you going to come home? Daddy, have you witnessed death? Momma killed the pigs yesterday, you use to do that. I have witnessed death, So tell me, Daddy, have you witnessed death? Daddy, why did you leave? I watched you walk away. You turned and waved I never saw you again. So tell me Daddy, why did you leave? Daddy, are you happy? Little Joey is always smiling, it makes me and Momma happy too. So tell me, Daddy, are you happy? Daddy, why did you leave? Were you angry with me? Were you angry with little Joey? Were you angry with Momma? So tell me Daddy, why did you leave? Daddy, are you in the War? that is what Suzzie said. Her daddy is in it. So tell me Daddy, are you in the War? Daddy, are you safe? I heard Momma talking about the War. she said it isn't safe. So tell me Daddy, are you safe? Daddy, what is war like? I think it is ****** and lots of people die. Lots of girls lose their Daddies So tell me Daddy, what is war like? Daddy, are you hungry? We have shortages of food now. I am hungry. So tell me Daddy, are you hungry? Daddy, why have you been gone so long? It has been three years since you left me at school. So tell me, Daddy, why have you been gone so long? Daddy, can you come home? Momma is older now. Little Joey isn't little anymore. But I am still the little girl you left at school. So tell me Daddy, can you come home? Daddy, are you dead? Joey thinks you are. Momma refuses to think so I don't know what I think. So tell me Daddy, are you dead? Daddy, are you in Heaven? Are there angles? can I come to Heaven if you are there? So tell me Daddy, are you in Heaven? Daddy, are you missing? Suzzie's daddy is, and I thought you might be too. So tell me, Daddy, are you missing? Daddy, do you miss me? Momma misses you, so does Joey, even though he doesn't remember you. I miss you too. So tell me, Daddy, do you miss me? Daddy, will you be there for my wedding? I have always wanted you to be there, But now Joey is here, He is going to give me away For my wedding, if you aren’t there, So tell me Daddy, will you be there for my wedding? Daddy, will you be there for the birth of your first grandchild? Momma will be, And I want you to be too. So tell me, Daddy, will you be there for the birth of your first grandchild? Daddy, did you find Momma? She left yesterday, she Wanted to see you, Just like I want to see you. So tell me, Daddy, did you find Momma? Daddy, did you meet John? He was my second born, He died last week. Did Momma meet him? So tell me, Daddy, did you meet John? Daddy, will you meet me in Heaven? I will be coming soon, Joey went to the war like you. I want to see him before I leave, So tell me, Daddy, will you meet me in Heaven? Daddy, do you miss me? I missed you tons, Over the years, but now I will See you again, Daddy, this is my last breath, I will see you soon, but Daddy please, Tell me, Did you miss me like I missed you?
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141
Dear Dad, I love you - oh so much! I understand that you were the one who stood beside me ever since I was little ever since Mom lost it and fled off, eventually. But I still thank Him for every single day He gave you to me. And Dad, I know you're scared - Daddies get scared too - And I understand that ever since Mom - you have lost too much But you won't ever lose me, you see? I won't ever leave you! The wind won't ever carry me away to places you can't go Well- unless it takes me to the ladies' room then you'd have to let me go. But after that, I'll find you outside and hold your hand. Dear Dad, There's no need for P-38, no. That P-38 You swore you'd use that on every boy who breaks my heart But Dad, cant you see? It's okay! I want to get my heart broken. I want to know how pain is associated after the expiration of love I want to know how you felt before Because I want to be wary, I want to take caution on the next dates I'd have. And I have to get hurt to build my own muscles to become as strong as you. So that the next man who breaks my heart I wont cry so hard all night that I'd feel the guilt because I kept you awake. You'd then call me a princess and pledge to avenge me because princesses, you say, shouldn't be in distress. But Dad, I am not a damsel of course not! I am a warrior! A ******* goddess at war. You have to ingest the fact that your baby girl has grown into a soldier in a war she trained herself into because it is her war. Keep your P-38, Dad. There's no need for that. She's in a battle - let her win it without you. But dearest Dad, at the end of the day, I will fall inside the castle of your arms and tell you my whimsical adventures and assure you that I'm still your baby girl. That way, you won't feel old and you won't feel like disappearing. Because you are my King and kings don't leave their daughters alone in the woods. *** Dear Dad, Somebody broke my heart today. Where are you?
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Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
To My Overprotective Father
Dear Dad, I love you - oh so much! I understand that you were the one who stood beside me ever since I was little ever since Mom lost it and fled off, eventually. But I still thank Him for every single day He gave you to me. And Dad, I know you're scared - Daddies get scared too - And I understand that ever since Mom - you have lost too much But you won't ever lose me, you see? I won't ever leave you! The wind won't ever carry me away to places you can't go Well- unless it takes me to the ladies' room then you'd have to let me go. But after that, I'll find you outside and hold your hand. Dear Dad, There's no need for P-38, no. That P-38 You swore you'd use that on every boy who breaks my heart But Dad, cant you see? It's okay! I want to get my heart broken. I want to know how pain is associated after the expiration of love I want to know how you felt before Because I want to be wary, I want to take caution on the next dates I'd have. And I have to get hurt to build my own muscles to become as strong as you. So that the next man who breaks my heart I wont cry so hard all night that I'd feel the guilt because I kept you awake. You'd then call me a princess and pledge to avenge me because princesses, you say, shouldn't be in distress. But Dad, I am not a damsel of course not! I am a warrior! A ******* goddess at war. You have to ingest the fact that your baby girl has grown into a soldier in a war she trained herself into because it is her war. Keep your P-38, Dad. There's no need for that. She's in a battle - let her win it without you. But dearest Dad, at the end of the day, I will fall inside the castle of your arms and tell you my whimsical adventures and assure you that I'm still your baby girl. That way, you won't feel old and you won't feel like disappearing. Because you are my King and kings don't leave their daughters alone in the woods. *** Dear Dad, Somebody broke my heart today. Where are you?
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87
Camping out is an experience everyone should have The cool grass in the morning and the birdsong Timeless air keeps you alive, energises the soul. Freezing feet and nose is inevitable as blanket or sleeping bag Don't quite make the grade The hard ground or undersheet has a smell that remains In your nose and in your memory Bringing the place back to you in your latter years. Once breakfast is cooking everything seems OK The worst part is the transition of night into day Then day into night, It's easy, stay up and just look upwards No light pollution, no clouds, no sound Drink in the inky blackness as Orion's three winking lights Demonstrate how wonderful life is But more importantly how small we are Tiny dim orange lights glow in the tents and vans Muffled noises diminish as the occupants climb Into their cosy beds and roll themselves up To keep out the cold, the inevitable insects One by one the darkness becomes complete Until no more music can be heard or Voices, rustling sounds or whimpering children Wanting their teddy bear or comfort blanket Mummies and Daddies soothing The silence is deafening save a cool breeze Just flapping the tent canvas, small cracking Sounds as it rolls and then straightens. Rolls then straightens gently, gently, gently The guy ropes straining a little then relaxing Another night comes to the campsite Enveloped in darkness all are safe and inside Their little tent or van Goodnight campers, sleep tight. Max Hale
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Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 4:43 PM UTC
Camping out
No, not short poems. honest to goodness short shorts, jean-like short shorts. No, not those kinds that the young girls wear, jean lookalike stretch fabric, skin so tight it makes their ole daddies' faces wince the same color blue. in the middle muddle of fall, now you write of short shorts? Well, I was told I could not write this till after the summer was final gone from the rear view mirror glass. Once I wrote/imagined about a woman of a certain age, who emptied her armoire drawers, time to transition and take things that could no longer be, to the thrift shop, for others to be thrifty in. Except for one bathing suit, a two piece back from the days, when two pieces meant you were proud of what you had and what you didn't have - the same suit she was wearing grabbing her little son, then a man of six or seven, (now a dad with a son, of three or six or seven), in the photo on the night table, some thirty dreams ago. Man you take a long time to make a point! what's all this got to do with short shorts? one summer day, a woman I know, an actual fire-breathing dragon, went thru the drawers of her ***** blonde armoire. there she "found" a pair of shorts shorts, from some thirty dreams ago. it did not take too much encouragement, just a little courage to try them on, thirty dreams later. now these short shorts were the old fashioned kind, they look liked cut off jeans but were not, they had rolled up cuffed bottoms to increase the illusion. They no longer fit! Yup. ******* short shorts were loose around that curvaceous waist, known as my favorite place., where I rested my head once again, after, we celebrated. that is my poem about short shorts that I've been carrying round until the curfew was lifted. but even tho I like short shorts, I'll never ask someone to wear them, risking scorn and mockery, but I know for a fact, those short shorts did not get thrown out.
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Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 8:10 AM UTC
Short Shorts
No, not short poems. honest to goodness short shorts, jean-like short shorts. No, not those kinds that the young girls wear, jean lookalike stretch fabric, skin so tight it makes their ole daddies' faces wince the same color blue. in the middle muddle of fall, now you write of short shorts? Well, I was told I could not write this till after the summer was final gone from the rear view mirror glass. Once I wrote/imagined about a woman of a certain age, who emptied her armoire drawers, time to transition and take things that could no longer be, to the thrift shop, for others to be thrifty in. Except for one bathing suit, a two piece back from the days, when two pieces meant you were proud of what you had and what you didn't have - the same suit she was wearing grabbing her little son, then a man of six or seven, (now a dad with a son, of three or six or seven), in the photo on the night table, some thirty dreams ago. Man you take a long time to make a point! what's all this got to do with short shorts? one summer day, a woman I know, an actual fire-breathing dragon, went thru the drawers of her ***** blonde armoire. there she "found" a pair of shorts shorts, from some thirty dreams ago. it did not take too much encouragement, just a little courage to try them on, thirty dreams later. now these short shorts were the old fashioned kind, they look liked cut off jeans but were not, they had rolled up cuffed bottoms to increase the illusion. They no longer fit! Yup. ******* short shorts were loose around that curvaceous waist, known as my favorite place., where I rested my head once again, after, we celebrated. that is my poem about short shorts that I've been carrying round until the curfew was lifted. but even tho I like short shorts, I'll never ask someone to wear them, risking scorn and mockery, but I know for a fact, those short shorts did not get thrown out.
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77
*The most broken people live on earth.   Not even a good poet and wont pretend to be. I fell asleep at my desk reading boring poems in school. I failed the test on how many stanza in a poem. Writing about broke people makes me feel good. It's a long *** poem so read it or not read it. Word up!* Call me white boy playing black hipster like the broken record Miley.   I can't type twerk on my keyboard but turning all ghetto on y'all. Lady done done all she can to shock and mess with our minds. What she gone do next, buy a house in a black hood and live there? That's messed up and so I'm dumb and I love attention. I live in a big town population less than sixteen thousand. We listed on the map as a god ****** city. Word up! I need to be a hipster and I'm going hood on y'all. In my hood I see houses needing fixing and painting. Got a friend who lives in a trailer park metal piece that goes around the bottom of his trailer fell off and his pipes froze during that weather deep freeze. He's renting that trailer that should be condemned like most trailers in that park but who the **** cares? He's got a roof over his head and he should be grateful he ain't homeless like the rest of the trailer park dwellers. Landlords don't give a **** they care about collecting rent. We got men and women living on internet trolling Craigslist. Most trolling hoping to find dates are married. Single men and women seeking sugar daddies and mommies. They are broken people. I walk down streets and our old and newer malls. Same weird *** people shop at both. I see women yelling at kids with ****** diapers that smell bad. One used the back of her hand to wipe a snot nose then went back to talking and texting. Women with babies at home meeting men they met on personals. Good place to hide when they married or got men. Leave the babies at home with sitters or family and find new men. Hanging out at malls is a fake. "Meet me at my pickup in a half hour and don't wear ****** Read that message on a burner cell I found at the new mall. It's a burner so it don't need to be returned. Read the rest and she is married and has more than one lover she met off personals. Work it girl and keep the sugar daddies coming! How many broken moms who should not be moms exist? There are too many broken people who exist.
0
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
All the broken people
*The most broken people live on earth.   Not even a good poet and wont pretend to be. I fell asleep at my desk reading boring poems in school. I failed the test on how many stanza in a poem. Writing about broke people makes me feel good. It's a long *** poem so read it or not read it. Word up!* Call me white boy playing black hipster like the broken record Miley.   I can't type twerk on my keyboard but turning all ghetto on y'all. Lady done done all she can to shock and mess with our minds. What she gone do next, buy a house in a black hood and live there? That's messed up and so I'm dumb and I love attention. I live in a big town population less than sixteen thousand. We listed on the map as a god ****** city. Word up! I need to be a hipster and I'm going hood on y'all. In my hood I see houses needing fixing and painting. Got a friend who lives in a trailer park metal piece that goes around the bottom of his trailer fell off and his pipes froze during that weather deep freeze. He's renting that trailer that should be condemned like most trailers in that park but who the **** cares? He's got a roof over his head and he should be grateful he ain't homeless like the rest of the trailer park dwellers. Landlords don't give a **** they care about collecting rent. We got men and women living on internet trolling Craigslist. Most trolling hoping to find dates are married. Single men and women seeking sugar daddies and mommies. They are broken people. I walk down streets and our old and newer malls. Same weird *** people shop at both. I see women yelling at kids with ****** diapers that smell bad. One used the back of her hand to wipe a snot nose then went back to talking and texting. Women with babies at home meeting men they met on personals. Good place to hide when they married or got men. Leave the babies at home with sitters or family and find new men. Hanging out at malls is a fake. "Meet me at my pickup in a half hour and don't wear ****** Read that message on a burner cell I found at the new mall. It's a burner so it don't need to be returned. Read the rest and she is married and has more than one lover she met off personals. Work it girl and keep the sugar daddies coming! How many broken moms who should not be moms exist? There are too many broken people who exist.
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44
It was Saturday mornings like this; or don't you remember? Five-year-old me riding shotgun, watching your cigarette embers blow hastily out the window, listening to the engine hum. The Beatles would play on the radio, you'd sing along, and try to teach me, too. *“Close your eyes, and I’ll kiss you, tomorrow I’ll miss you, remember I’ll always be true…”* I’d watch your fingers drum rhythmically on the steering wheel - something I’d thought only daddies could do. You may not have realized it, but at a young age you taught me how to love life, and embrace it completely. With loving words, and a strong heart, you told me I could be anything I wanted to be. I remember being young: you, a drummer, on the road. I’d wake up, startlingly, every single time you came home. You’d leave us each with a kiss on the forehead, promising, always, to come home. *“Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you, tomorrow I’ll miss you…”* Singing us Beatles’ lullabies with promises to never leave us alone. Some nights I’d wake up in the middle of the night. In a panic, I’d run out to the living room just to see the glow of the TV light. “Daddy?,” I’d say, in a tiny voice that only little girls laced with fatigue can have. Waking you up out of a dead sleep, I thought, maybe, you’d be mad. But you’d just look up, and look over to where I was standing, And say, “Baby, come lay with me.” In your arms I found safety, and the first protection I’d ever known. You, daddy, are the one that I’ll come to if ever I want to come home. The TV lights glow soft now, and that little girl is little, no more. But don’t you ever think I’ll forget, your voice when you’d close the door: *“Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you, tomorrow I’ll miss you, remember I’ll always be true. And then while I’m away, I’ll write home every day. And I’ll send all my loving to you. All my lovin’, I will send to you. All my lovin, darlin’, I’ll be true. All my lovin’, all my lovin’..”* Happy Birthday, daddy.
0
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
Daddy's Lullabies
It was Saturday mornings like this; or don't you remember? Five-year-old me riding shotgun, watching your cigarette embers blow hastily out the window, listening to the engine hum. The Beatles would play on the radio, you'd sing along, and try to teach me, too. *“Close your eyes, and I’ll kiss you, tomorrow I’ll miss you, remember I’ll always be true…”* I’d watch your fingers drum rhythmically on the steering wheel - something I’d thought only daddies could do. You may not have realized it, but at a young age you taught me how to love life, and embrace it completely. With loving words, and a strong heart, you told me I could be anything I wanted to be. I remember being young: you, a drummer, on the road. I’d wake up, startlingly, every single time you came home. You’d leave us each with a kiss on the forehead, promising, always, to come home. *“Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you, tomorrow I’ll miss you…”* Singing us Beatles’ lullabies with promises to never leave us alone. Some nights I’d wake up in the middle of the night. In a panic, I’d run out to the living room just to see the glow of the TV light. “Daddy?,” I’d say, in a tiny voice that only little girls laced with fatigue can have. Waking you up out of a dead sleep, I thought, maybe, you’d be mad. But you’d just look up, and look over to where I was standing, And say, “Baby, come lay with me.” In your arms I found safety, and the first protection I’d ever known. You, daddy, are the one that I’ll come to if ever I want to come home. The TV lights glow soft now, and that little girl is little, no more. But don’t you ever think I’ll forget, your voice when you’d close the door: *“Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you, tomorrow I’ll miss you, remember I’ll always be true. And then while I’m away, I’ll write home every day. And I’ll send all my loving to you. All my lovin’, I will send to you. All my lovin, darlin’, I’ll be true. All my lovin’, all my lovin’..”* Happy Birthday, daddy.
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64
I am hopeful now Walking the seawall straightens me out The clouds and the waters One foot in front of the other Walking the seawall To my day to day The choices I've made One foot in front of the other Dogs on leashes Babies in strollers Or on daddies in front The seawall Windy and peaceful One foot in front of the other Birds eat Fresh crab meat The circle of life Tug of war One foot in front of the other Runners run. Cyclists, bike Childs play The walk to work One foot in front of the other
0
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
One Foot in Front of the Other
we're such a benevolent lot we give the Welfare set our hard won dough they sit on their ***** and do not a thing while we're out working for a wage but our kindnesses are being exploited by the dole collectors those ***** mothers having broods of kids and we hand them our toiling quids those kids should be supported by their daddies let them get a job and become responsible for their sprog the Welfare system is getting plundered every day by those who won't get out and earn their pay how nice our honey *** has been taken for granted and bled of its generosity
0
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 7:25 PM UTC
Generous Taxpayers
The dog buried it in the garden, in one of Its many holes, it was a dog of course Just not the normal dog, No skin, No fluff, No idea? Where it buried this which I needed, Which I owned, It was like a mole had been playing whacker And dug up 50 mounds, 50 holes, 50 buried But which was that which I needed to hold, My hands waved too and froe, I would talk but my anger  muffled Not expressing my contempt but with a finger Waving as my hands in a naughty silent Window wiper motion, "Bad dog" "Bad boy" "Bad reception" A voice unheard, "OK" Right now I have a worm playing Hide go seek in my cavity's, it tickles My sockets, curls up in my nose, Sticks you know what daddy will do, And the last time this happened, What did daddy do?? Legs in the bathroom, Ribs keeping open the kitchen door, And your skull was left outside in the cold, "With a grumble" "With a growl" "With relief" I saw the light,* and my body walked over, My bony fingers rummaging around Left a little, Right a little, Are you blind And with that like a touch down, My skull was finally found, I rubbed the mud off I took the worm from my nose, I sat him on my rib, he had found a new home. "Now boy" "I know you like to bury" "But daddies bones are a no go" I give him a cuddle, stroked his bony head, "What's skeleton to do" When his dog likes to bury bones, Last week he buried his tail, in one of those fifty holes, And its still waggling, wiggling as we speak buried in a hole.
0
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
My Dog Buried A Bone
Stop mommies, stop daddies I want to see the stars too, And chase the lightening bugs like you. Don’t **** the night, With all of our lights. Save it for me. Don’t steal it with your new bought glee. May we turn out our lights? Maybe for just one night? So that I can raise my eyes, To the stars above, And feel the magic and mystery, The velvety black night brings,           For now, And for all of eternity. Now may we turn down our lights, And turn some off too, So that I can grow, Under this star filled sky Free from  the glow, For the rest of my life? And my children’s and their children’s too?
0
Dec 24, 2021
Dec 24, 2021 at 6:23 PM UTC
Stop mommies, Stop daddies
If you thought you were invincible, Then Mr fantastic is the name that I bare. Lower your force field, no need to fear. I could answer a thousand questionnaires and still "You" I would prefer. Like daddies first gift, am your teddy bear. Resisting your tender dimpled smile was a harder battle than I could bare. A trail of your presence, I would follow, lavender in the air. Watching you walk away entices my stare. It makes me wonder the identity of the architect behind your hypnotic rear. Now we play, we fight, we tease, we care. You make me a warrior in the game of truth or dare. Stay alive with me far and near. Life only exists in these moments we share. And as my fingers playfully drape between your hair. You giggle softly, as my whispers flow in your ear. I shelter you completely from the front and rear. I will have my way, your kiss, our cheer. As we seat together in a bamboo chair. Am energised in a place so rare You roll your backside like none other could compare. Like all good girls gone bad, you leave me lusting for a heir. Tonight, a private party awaits up the stairs. Laid waiting by the sofa, cherries and cream is all you wear. Luring closer, your index finger beckons for my sensual strong souvenir. A love feast begin with a prayer in arrears. Like a stallion, you submit completely into my care. simmering with radiance as I sweeten your lair. I carve your arches with honey and steer. You got me feeling like romeo in a viewtiful affair. Your skin speaks and my hands understands its fears, Your eyes full of desire, my heartbeat fully aware Your lips "hypnotic", my eyes hang on it like a chandelier. We float away while our lungs beg for air. One touch to your soft spot, I move like a musketeer. Your fingers claw my back to go deeper in there. You feel a flood building, aching to be spared. I suspend it all and pull out instead. Can you feel it coming, be prepared. Like Moses said, "I" will take you there. A water fall rises for the one who fared. You recite the lords prayer but my name you declare. Life could be pointless without a care, Best to find something interesting and relieve the despair. Like the way you found that flower blooming in the air, The same way I found you and knew we could be a pair.
0
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
Serenade
If you thought you were invincible, Then Mr fantastic is the name that I bare. Lower your force field, no need to fear. I could answer a thousand questionnaires and still "You" I would prefer. Like daddies first gift, am your teddy bear. Resisting your tender dimpled smile was a harder battle than I could bare. A trail of your presence, I would follow, lavender in the air. Watching you walk away entices my stare. It makes me wonder the identity of the architect behind your hypnotic rear. Now we play, we fight, we tease, we care. You make me a warrior in the game of truth or dare. Stay alive with me far and near. Life only exists in these moments we share. And as my fingers playfully drape between your hair. You giggle softly, as my whispers flow in your ear. I shelter you completely from the front and rear. I will have my way, your kiss, our cheer. As we seat together in a bamboo chair. Am energised in a place so rare You roll your backside like none other could compare. Like all good girls gone bad, you leave me lusting for a heir. Tonight, a private party awaits up the stairs. Laid waiting by the sofa, cherries and cream is all you wear. Luring closer, your index finger beckons for my sensual strong souvenir. A love feast begin with a prayer in arrears. Like a stallion, you submit completely into my care. simmering with radiance as I sweeten your lair. I carve your arches with honey and steer. You got me feeling like romeo in a viewtiful affair. Your skin speaks and my hands understands its fears, Your eyes full of desire, my heartbeat fully aware Your lips "hypnotic", my eyes hang on it like a chandelier. We float away while our lungs beg for air. One touch to your soft spot, I move like a musketeer. Your fingers claw my back to go deeper in there. You feel a flood building, aching to be spared. I suspend it all and pull out instead. Can you feel it coming, be prepared. Like Moses said, "I" will take you there. A water fall rises for the one who fared. You recite the lords prayer but my name you declare. Life could be pointless without a care, Best to find something interesting and relieve the despair. Like the way you found that flower blooming in the air, The same way I found you and knew we could be a pair.
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44
Surprise surprise Daddy didn’t show Daddy doesn’t care Daddy doesn’t know Daddy does care Daddy knows best Then why does daddy make empty promises? Daddy says this Daddy says that Daddy buys us gifts To make up for what he missed Daddy met a girl She was daddies world Next thing you know she replaces daddies little girl What used to be daddies girl grew up in an empty world No longer daddies only girl Daddy left her all alone No daddy to buy us gifts No daddy to see his kids Momma took the blame when daddies girl misbehaved Daddy had no part in his little girls birthdays What once was daddies girl Became a lonely world just a reminder of what used to be daddies girl Surprise surprise Daddy isn’t here Let it be up to daddies to up and disappear Daddy says funny things Funny things about wedding rings Daddy has a lot of flings whatever that means Momma and daddy don’t get along Daddy’s mean to momma when momma does something wrong Mommas mean to daddy when bills aren’t met Daddy buys gifts for other girls that’s why we’re in debt Daddy’s mean to momma Daddy makes momma cry Daddy’s mean to momma until sunrise Daddy slams the door What was that for? Daddy went to the store Why is momma torn? Momma says daddy has another little girl one to buy toys for one with daddy’s curls What was wrong with this daddies girl? Why did daddy decide to give up his whole world Momma said things will get better But this little girl turned sour and bitter Surprise surprise Daddy didn’t show Daddy said he’ll be watching from the front row Daddy’s little girl practiced every day till dawn Just so she could show daddy her moves were spot on The curtains about to rise I don’t see daddy what a surprise The shows about to start Daddy’s gonna miss my part Daddy said he’ll be there Daddy doesn’t lie Daddy will be here in no time About to go on stage now There she goes with her little crown “Why is that pretty girl wearing a frown?” Daddies a no show So this little girl turned stone cold There’s momma in her pretty gown Too bad daddy isn’t here to see How pretty mommy can be What can you do Daddy doesn’t stay true Surprise surprise Daddy isn’t home Mommas sitting here waiting by the phone I’m getting sleepy But mommas still sitting here weeping Uh oh what to do Daddy came home with the reak of ***** What can you do What did I do wrong? There’s no telling Daddy won’t stop yelling Daddy’s getting meaner Where’s mommy when I need her Daddy won’t get off of me Daddy, why are you on top of me? Surprise surprise Daddies little prize Grew up in a web of lies Poor daddies girl in a lonely world No daddy to love No daddy to hug Just a mean daddy Who takes off her p.a.n.tees Surprise surprise This daddy is no daddy of mine Let this be true That all daddies can fool you
0
Feb 26, 2020
Feb 26, 2020 at 4:38 PM UTC
Daddies girl
Surprise surprise Daddy didn’t show Daddy doesn’t care Daddy doesn’t know Daddy does care Daddy knows best Then why does daddy make empty promises? Daddy says this Daddy says that Daddy buys us gifts To make up for what he missed Daddy met a girl She was daddies world Next thing you know she replaces daddies little girl What used to be daddies girl grew up in an empty world No longer daddies only girl Daddy left her all alone No daddy to buy us gifts No daddy to see his kids Momma took the blame when daddies girl misbehaved Daddy had no part in his little girls birthdays What once was daddies girl Became a lonely world just a reminder of what used to be daddies girl Surprise surprise Daddy isn’t here Let it be up to daddies to up and disappear Daddy says funny things Funny things about wedding rings Daddy has a lot of flings whatever that means Momma and daddy don’t get along Daddy’s mean to momma when momma does something wrong Mommas mean to daddy when bills aren’t met Daddy buys gifts for other girls that’s why we’re in debt Daddy’s mean to momma Daddy makes momma cry Daddy’s mean to momma until sunrise Daddy slams the door What was that for? Daddy went to the store Why is momma torn? Momma says daddy has another little girl one to buy toys for one with daddy’s curls What was wrong with this daddies girl? Why did daddy decide to give up his whole world Momma said things will get better But this little girl turned sour and bitter Surprise surprise Daddy didn’t show Daddy said he’ll be watching from the front row Daddy’s little girl practiced every day till dawn Just so she could show daddy her moves were spot on The curtains about to rise I don’t see daddy what a surprise The shows about to start Daddy’s gonna miss my part Daddy said he’ll be there Daddy doesn’t lie Daddy will be here in no time About to go on stage now There she goes with her little crown “Why is that pretty girl wearing a frown?” Daddies a no show So this little girl turned stone cold There’s momma in her pretty gown Too bad daddy isn’t here to see How pretty mommy can be What can you do Daddy doesn’t stay true Surprise surprise Daddy isn’t home Mommas sitting here waiting by the phone I’m getting sleepy But mommas still sitting here weeping Uh oh what to do Daddy came home with the reak of ***** What can you do What did I do wrong? There’s no telling Daddy won’t stop yelling Daddy’s getting meaner Where’s mommy when I need her Daddy won’t get off of me Daddy, why are you on top of me? Surprise surprise Daddies little prize Grew up in a web of lies Poor daddies girl in a lonely world No daddy to love No daddy to hug Just a mean daddy Who takes off her p.a.n.tees Surprise surprise This daddy is no daddy of mine Let this be true That all daddies can fool you
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93
I've always been wary-- and celebrated my potential Betrayal and Certain    death(.)     (oh) At The Juice Joint. All wet.  (incorrrr --ect.) Applesauce. (non sense.) All dolled up. Showed off my        Gams And Big Jazz (eyes). Wanted to get spifflicated with some Dolls and Jellybeans. ...my fella. ? Didn't have enough clams. Any of us. We    're the new Lost       ...generation. I thought I'd keep the bank open, but interest wasn't given Cash or Check: didn't really matter. Might've been      the cat 's meeeeeow. And how. Ahhhhh... we all had our glad rags on. the Daddies hit on all sixes.       Let's get ZOZZLED on some jag juice, dewdropper. Deeeeeewdropper.  ~errrrrrrrr..... Though giggle juice is more apt ...for me. Leave the Mrs. Grundys at home...no fire extinguishers allowed. How ironic.                 You were the extinguisher. Bring Your Own Knife       , we said. It's a Stabbing Party      , we said. I didn't want to handcuff you. Didn't want to exchange manacles.        ("No, I'm no one's Wife, but OHHHHH, I love my Life.") I percolate. I percolate. I percolate. I'm not your quiff. ...not your sheba...or a vamp. Just admire my            chassis if you will.     they all     do The engine'll purr    for you, ~~if you turn the keys just so Everything was     Copacetic. Copacetic... For a time.          (get'hotget'hot!) Caesar's here.                                        Hussssshhhhhhhh... ...speak          ~~eeeeeaaaaassssyyyyy. And then I realized.                                    I'm tired of being Caesar (      .       )
0
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
The Ides of March (a night for easy speaking)
I've always been wary-- and celebrated my potential Betrayal and Certain    death(.)     (oh) At The Juice Joint. All wet.  (incorrrr --ect.) Applesauce. (non sense.) All dolled up. Showed off my        Gams And Big Jazz (eyes). Wanted to get spifflicated with some Dolls and Jellybeans. ...my fella. ? Didn't have enough clams. Any of us. We    're the new Lost       ...generation. I thought I'd keep the bank open, but interest wasn't given Cash or Check: didn't really matter. Might've been      the cat 's meeeeeow. And how. Ahhhhh... we all had our glad rags on. the Daddies hit on all sixes.       Let's get ZOZZLED on some jag juice, dewdropper. Deeeeeewdropper.  ~errrrrrrrr..... Though giggle juice is more apt ...for me. Leave the Mrs. Grundys at home...no fire extinguishers allowed. How ironic.                 You were the extinguisher. Bring Your Own Knife       , we said. It's a Stabbing Party      , we said. I didn't want to handcuff you. Didn't want to exchange manacles.        ("No, I'm no one's Wife, but OHHHHH, I love my Life.") I percolate. I percolate. I percolate. I'm not your quiff. ...not your sheba...or a vamp. Just admire my            chassis if you will.     they all     do The engine'll purr    for you, ~~if you turn the keys just so Everything was     Copacetic. Copacetic... For a time.          (get'hotget'hot!) Caesar's here.                                        Hussssshhhhhhhh... ...speak          ~~eeeeeaaaaassssyyyyy. And then I realized.                                    I'm tired of being Caesar (      .       )
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83
I always wanted to compose symphonies, But my hands and my head could never agree. I got the blue curse, because I always feel beats, But my fingers freeze up when I get to melo-DIEs. Recede. I want to live the nihilist's dream, Smoke packs a day to intensify screams. Maybe if I stare into the middle distance, After hours I would build up a tolerance to listen. IN THIS town, there are only 2 kinds of people Girls who pierce their NOSES and THOSE IN the steeple Walking down So. Auburn in bare feet and short shorts Catching the gleam from the street (of course), With their dreadlocks all up in auburn buns And their eyes shooting diamonds in the autumn sun. Bullet-belt vests draped lazily over their shoulders, With double-zero earrings and squirt-gun holsters. And the police-dogs and the SWAT cars are all powered by indulgence, The doctors are up to their elbows in cadavers by self-expulsion The men are splitting at the seams from over-eating obsessive compulsion And the shameful deception of upward inflection to change my direction and wind UP and the inanimate DUCKling with a large crank between its shoulders In the shape of a black key to the black energy that makes the cold rooms colder Is a disguise to the spoken word hurricanes brewing inside me. Set me to zero then make me the hero so physicists can derive me. If the sum of all forces is equal to mass times acceleration, Maybe the sum of world problems is equal to vanity times irritation. Jeans cutting up my legs, purpling due to lack of circulation Are developing holes, as well as the soles of my shoes, I'm growing impatient. The production slows to a halt, pouring salt into lacerations, And as boys grow into drunk daddies, women resort to migration. This country isn't democracy, just a ghastly and pale imitation, These people don't have representatives, only half-assed representations.
0
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 7:08 PM UTC
Mellow D's
I always wanted to compose symphonies, But my hands and my head could never agree. I got the blue curse, because I always feel beats, But my fingers freeze up when I get to melo-DIEs. Recede. I want to live the nihilist's dream, Smoke packs a day to intensify screams. Maybe if I stare into the middle distance, After hours I would build up a tolerance to listen. IN THIS town, there are only 2 kinds of people Girls who pierce their NOSES and THOSE IN the steeple Walking down So. Auburn in bare feet and short shorts Catching the gleam from the street (of course), With their dreadlocks all up in auburn buns And their eyes shooting diamonds in the autumn sun. Bullet-belt vests draped lazily over their shoulders, With double-zero earrings and squirt-gun holsters. And the police-dogs and the SWAT cars are all powered by indulgence, The doctors are up to their elbows in cadavers by self-expulsion The men are splitting at the seams from over-eating obsessive compulsion And the shameful deception of upward inflection to change my direction and wind UP and the inanimate DUCKling with a large crank between its shoulders In the shape of a black key to the black energy that makes the cold rooms colder Is a disguise to the spoken word hurricanes brewing inside me. Set me to zero then make me the hero so physicists can derive me. If the sum of all forces is equal to mass times acceleration, Maybe the sum of world problems is equal to vanity times irritation. Jeans cutting up my legs, purpling due to lack of circulation Are developing holes, as well as the soles of my shoes, I'm growing impatient. The production slows to a halt, pouring salt into lacerations, And as boys grow into drunk daddies, women resort to migration. This country isn't democracy, just a ghastly and pale imitation, These people don't have representatives, only half-assed representations.
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The Acolytes come marching in and out and in, out again Minds befuddles, rationalities amissing, fully indoctrinated Pathetic Dogs of Attrition dressed all in white, all in pain Compulsive obsessives, neurotics primed and oxygenated Scrappers at the bottom of the barrel wants unlawful gain By hook or crook is their recourse, to that they are mandated From rhetorics long gone and ideologies forged in days of rain Our intrepid Confused and Acolytes are soundly medicated Just march to left, left, left, left and we will ease all your pain Recognize that the enemies are those that think and are educated They all claim domain at the top, with kudos, status and fame While you languish in closed barrels, your poor lives truncated Those Bosses are all there because they are all Masonic inclined Doctors, lawyers and Professionals paid cash for Degrees granted They did no work or study, rich Daddies just paid so they claim All those Entrepreneurs are Robbers who bankraid unarrested Because the Police are all masonic and help/share in all the gain The Royals are  Top Mafiosas, with International links atested So Dumb Acolytes Know the truths and fall with the wise in line We must regain Power and march left, left so we're not left in vain The republic shall live because it's 21 Century and we wake in time We take all from the Secret Society and cut off all our iron chains Begin by taunting, tormenting and harassing that ****** Wayne The ****** Prince is the African Mafia Chief and Exploiter kingpin Sing with me everybody Viva la Revolution, viva la Revolution We are clever, all in our White uniforms We march to the left left left with our two left feet We know our brains have left us but we go left left Viva la Revolution, Viva la Revolution, Viva la Jinbba. Hey! jinbba, jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbba Sing.........
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Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 5:09 AM UTC
To The Left...Quick March.....
The Acolytes come marching in and out and in, out again Minds befuddles, rationalities amissing, fully indoctrinated Pathetic Dogs of Attrition dressed all in white, all in pain Compulsive obsessives, neurotics primed and oxygenated Scrappers at the bottom of the barrel wants unlawful gain By hook or crook is their recourse, to that they are mandated From rhetorics long gone and ideologies forged in days of rain Our intrepid Confused and Acolytes are soundly medicated Just march to left, left, left, left and we will ease all your pain Recognize that the enemies are those that think and are educated They all claim domain at the top, with kudos, status and fame While you languish in closed barrels, your poor lives truncated Those Bosses are all there because they are all Masonic inclined Doctors, lawyers and Professionals paid cash for Degrees granted They did no work or study, rich Daddies just paid so they claim All those Entrepreneurs are Robbers who bankraid unarrested Because the Police are all masonic and help/share in all the gain The Royals are  Top Mafiosas, with International links atested So Dumb Acolytes Know the truths and fall with the wise in line We must regain Power and march left, left so we're not left in vain The republic shall live because it's 21 Century and we wake in time We take all from the Secret Society and cut off all our iron chains Begin by taunting, tormenting and harassing that ****** Wayne The ****** Prince is the African Mafia Chief and Exploiter kingpin Sing with me everybody Viva la Revolution, viva la Revolution We are clever, all in our White uniforms We march to the left left left with our two left feet We know our brains have left us but we go left left Viva la Revolution, Viva la Revolution, Viva la Jinbba. Hey! jinbba, jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbba Sing.........
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