"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
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
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.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 8:28 PM UTC
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.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC
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.
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 4:32 AM UTC
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
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 4:28 AM UTC
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
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 5:15 PM UTC
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!
Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 10:50 AM UTC
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
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
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
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 8:39 AM UTC
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?
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 8:10 PM UTC
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?
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
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
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 4:43 PM UTC
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.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 8:10 AM UTC
*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.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
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.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
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
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
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
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 7:25 PM UTC
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.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
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?
Dec 24, 2021
Dec 24, 2021 at 6:23 PM UTC
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.
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
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
Feb 26, 2020
Feb 26, 2020 at 4:38 PM UTC
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
( . )
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
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.
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 7:08 PM UTC
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.........
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 5:09 AM UTC