"derby" poems
Gliding deftly along the city street
rolling quick and constantly
onward to some unknown scene,
some backward park in the nighttime
smoke curling from these
parted lips, moist and inviting
calling me somewhere I've never seen.
New day, new night
new feelings, rage in delight
fill me with your hilarious entropy,
knock my quarks into the next century,
will you please?
Now you're smoking the pipe and all at once you are free
between you and me, this smoke is thicker and sticks
like glue,
wispy and dreamy and the world spins and calls Toltec
telephone company can't pay me for all those calls collected
and rendered obsolete
Sun god dead as that silly calendar meme
Amaterasu,
and Imma tell you
these ladies in the picnic table
buried alive for boxed lunch and god's brunch
Jesus ******* Christ
and a indelible roster of good guys,
to which we all must strive to live and die
behind,
never moving forward
chasing our tails like a sick dog
under the jasmine runner between the decades-old tanbark
imported from overseas
dead trees
dead canine
and oh isn't it just divine?
You see it, pretty lady.
I can see it hiding behind your eyes
the things you don't tell the others because you're afraid
if they found out,
you'd be crucified.
Well honey I hate to inform,
With KGB efficiency that these love-a-dumbs
aint Methuselah,
they'll be dead!
long before your flood of tears tears me from the land
ballistas me across the great expanse to some strange Ararat
of the eastern seaboard,
or maybe wash me deep along the 80
into the desert sands and tiles
on a leaky cell phone screen
desperately trying to dial home on low battery,
realizing all this was one big deferred dream,
baking in the sun and shriveling
oh well, back to the grindstone-- all those lies plucked your nose,
gotta cut it back to size,
'else your soul it'll outgrow
Don't worry honey bee
It hasn't happened to me,
and We know with calcuable mathematical truth
that it'll never happen to you.
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 9:50 PM UTC
Warning:
The seagull flying over the Appalachians
could not possibly be amused by the
puzzles of an illegitimate composer
and the skyscrapers climbed.
1.
The skyscrapers were played by tall
rocks a girl climbed when she couldn't
remember if the cape she wore was
made from steel or newspaper.
11.
The newspaper they all read together
that morning (girl, boy, king, etc)
promised nothing but a fifty percent
chance of dandelions terrorizing the bus stop.
2.
The bus stop had since become a
dealer corner and the sunset behind
the mountains was blocked by the
flipping hair of a lost boy.
7.
The boy bought a toy for cheap -- it had
a built-in laser, so she stole it to blast a
whole hole in that guilt-ridden quilt hung
over the four dollar love seat.
6.
The love seat, she bought the day he went
to maple -- the soap dispenser was broken,
but she couldn't find anything new (that she
knew) to wash her hands with.
5.
The hands that handed her a hammer were covered
in promotions, so she stole the motorcycle when
they were watching the scarecrow going
through electric-shock, disco therapy.
8.
The therapy that she received from the
parrot-king and his troupe of square roots
was enough to make her not forget not regret
the boy with feathers in his ears.
10.
The ears she woke up with one morning
were different in shape than before
and the black fur she knew
was growing before her eyes.
3.
The eyes of the boy were wider than
the nightly news station promised, and
there wasn't really a difference
between caves and boxes in a town that small.
4.
The town she arrived in didn't have
a carpool lane or derby, so
she had to take her pet goldfish
to the river for his depressive state.
9.
The river wasn't as flooded after a couple
weeks of changing the tune on the jukebox
she found way before the departure
of her white gold pearls.
12.
The pearls she wore for her
coming-of-age were buried beneath
a dirt mound when she promised herself
to always insist on herself.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 10:49 AM UTC
We are watching the clouds
bandage an incarnadine sky,
we are practicing our best knots,
weaving an army of tourniquets,
we are slow-dancing
barefoot on the edge
of a razor.
We are watching
a demolition derby
in the driving rain,
the smell of motor oil
mixing with gasoline,
the hard melancholy
of dying machines.
We are waltzing from room to room,
smearing our names on the floor,
we are keeping time to slow music,
bleeding out behind closed doors.
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 8:15 AM UTC
there was a little donkey he was very small
when stood by others they looked rather tall
he had a big ambition to win a donkey race
a derby for the donkeys he could win first place
he put down his name at the local donkey show'
in the donkey derby he could have a go
he took it nice and easy till halfway through the race
then towards the finish at his fasted pace
the little donkey won his dream it had come true
to win the donkey derby just like he dreamed to do
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 8:08 AM UTC
The final words deeply
Rooted well spirited from top
To the wishing well bottom
She writes-- on-- the-- top-line
Real flower takes action
The Spring Mom affection
Dark- Shades She's the brightest
Star- Poppy make it snappy
Fire red Floppy disk
Movie flick favorite flower
Take a risk perfect pick
Your heart sunglasses got baked
With Moms baking flour
She couldn't see the sun
Light years away
Words sound alike look at the what!
blue skies just pray we are rooted
like a gifted flower
That never dies
Star Eyes** enter
The flowers frame mirror
"Sunflower Face"
* * *
Words sprout like
"Mr. and Misses"
The ceremony
Oh! Honey what's your point.....
Red so vibrant laughing Loretta
Crying operetta baby birth flower
Rudolph running nose red
Homesick cough water spell
chamomile flower bed
Light up Holiday wed
"Poinsettia" she's tough
Bloom- make room
Show Biz flower "Cafe Vienna"
Curtain call sprinkle me
Sunflower voice heal me
Daisies lion- roar- free
The fresh-cut dandelion
Sunflower hats bow
"Kentucky Derby" I reckon
Flower words I beg your pardon
Did I ever promise you the rose garden?
Last curtain call divine sunflower
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 1:04 PM 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 City of Derby holds her breath amidst the crisis of historical ramblings and talkative expressions of inhibition.
Do not be deceived. Roaches are not mere insects, but are also three-course celebrations of haunting and religious engagements. There are Peaks which lie beyond the stratospheres of Leek.
Although the parameters of yesteryear project their own splendour, let us acknowledge the silver hair which drips with eternal statements of antagonistic adoration in Curzon Street.
Oh, rose of Sharon, in my sheer lack of understanding, I do not invalidate those instructions to depart from Birmingham New Street.
I have deeply immersed myself in Welsh pools of genuine loss, and have found a precious commodity which I had never beheld in former lifetimes.
Furthermore, I lament the loss of such generational integrity.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
Come on down to Louisville, Kentucky
For the Fastest Two Minutes In Sports
The first Saturday in May is Kentucky Derby time
It's the end of a two week celebration; the best of times
The runners race that takes a lap around the track
Thunder over Louisville has fireworks and planes fly past
There is a balloon glow and steamboat race
Where else can you go for a time so great
Now it is race day; an all day party
The insane gather in the infield and they can get naughty
You have celebrities, mint juleps and crazy hats
The Kentucky Derby is where it's at
The beautiful horses parade around
The bugles sounds and My Old Kentucky Home plays
The excitement peaks; it's time for the race
Dreams of the Triple Crown; the Kentucky Derby is the first leg
The Run For The Roses; someone's dream starts today
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
a tumblr full of rocks
a pour of ichiro malt
and a stir
gan bei
and
ichi
to the yamazaki and nikkas
i am in the land of the sun
i go down to the land of the dead
mei hi ko
anejo
casa amigo,
to my brothers in arms
jose, i must have my agave
cheers to the alamo
to the land of the prohibition
kentucky
yippee kay yay
bourbon,
spicy rye kick
spur to the horse
giddy up, giddy up
riding off into the sun
set to kentucky
derby
bourbon
ballentines
tom ford west
make your mark
with maker’s mark
bottoms up
and now i am staggering
vichi patia
better than grey goose
aunt jiin
and all the cult gin
navy strength and **** juice
getting rowdy
like irish bloke jameson
and that **** scot
macallan
and his gang
oiban, glenfiddich, and
glenlivet
I am livid
at that son of a *****
son of peat
another round
i am monkeying around
monkey 47
sun set
sun rise
*** on the beach
i see kings and queens
louis thirteen
i am going to sleep
pappy van winkle
100 years
like rip van winkle
don’t wake me
stir and not shaken
good night, mama
sweet havana
neat
a shot of don papa
i go to sleep
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 8:47 PM UTC
Suited up as I try to maintain
In this ground cracking weather.
Heavy bags on my back
And artillery in my hands.
Goggles dusty
From the blistering sand
That slice my face like razors
With every gust of wind.
The scorching temperature
Is on hell and every breath
I take is so dry that my tongue's stiff.
One canteen, a few packs of food,
And a mission to complete.
My boots are laced,
With my feet feeling like people
Trapped in a burning building.
The further I go the more my body
Feels like it's being cremated.
I must reach my destination....
As helicopters pass through
Dropping explosives the size of a
Small child with the impact of
Several meteors hitting the earth.
Running like a track meet and
Maneuvering like a game of Dodgeball.
Gunfire, bodies, and thick smoke
As I bypass fallen aircrafts.
Approaching my target which
Will be my final destination.
BOOM! I found myself airborne to
Only hit the ground in unconsciousness.
BEEEEP! Is all I hear as I try to get
Up and regain consciousness.
Just a little over a hundred yards to
Go with a blurred vision
Feels like a lifetime.
As I'm reaching my target with
Bullets whistling pass my ears....
It's time. I set up my shot....
I hold my breath
Heart pounding with adrenaline
I'm studying
I'm focused
I'm ready....
POW! As my 50 caliber jerks
Back into my shoulder kicking
The dirt off the ground like a horse
At the Kentucky Derby.
MISSION COMPLETE!
As I'm going home with a bad case
Of paranoia and a Metal of honor...
I still have disastrous flashbacks
And ****** nightmares.
But....Nothing compares to that
STORM in the DESERT.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 2:54 AM UTC
Roller derby, disco.
Bump and grind
On the dance floor.
Drink some punch,
Sip some wine.
Party, party, people.
Flirty, ***** girly girl.
Do a spin,
Flail and twirl,
Dip, but do not fall.
All of these
And many more
You're sure to learn
In a year or four.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
The sun rises up over the Kentucky hills
The horses in the pasture are slowly strolling around
But today is different
Today is the Kentucky Derby
The quietness of the morning will soon turn to excitement
The pageantry will unfold; the hats, the costumes
The mint juleps and the red roses
The sounding of the trumpets
And the singing of My Old Kentucky Home
Many know nothing about horse racing
The Kentucky Derby horses; they can maybe name a few
We’re proud people in Kentucky; the Kentucky Derby is ours
Come on down to Louisville it’s the Run for the Roses
With open arms we will welcome you
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 7:39 AM UTC
LAST night a January wind was ripping at the shingles
over our house and whistling a wolf song under the
eaves.
I sat in a leather rocker and read to a six-year-old girl
the Browning poem, Childe Roland to the Dark
Tower Came.
And her eyes had the haze of autumn hills and it was
beautiful to her and she could not understand.
A man is crossing. a big prairie, says the poem, and
nothing happens--and he goes on and on--and it's
all lonesome and empty and nobody home.
And he goes on and on--and nothing happens--and he
comes on a horse's skull, dry bones of a dead horse--
and you know more than ever it's all lonesome and
empty and nobody home.
And the man raises a horn to his lips and blows--he
fixes a proud neck and forehead toward the empty
sky and the empty land--and blows one last wonder-
cry.
And as the shuttling automatic memory of man clicks
off its results willy-nilly and inevitable as the snick
of a mouse-trap or the trajectory of a 42-centimetre
projectile,
I flash to the form of a man to his hips in snow drifts
of Manitoba and Minnesota--in the sled derby run
from Winnipeg to Minneapolis.
He is beaten in the race the first day out of Winnipeg--
the lead dog is eaten by four team mates--and the
man goes on and on--running while the other racers
ride, running while the other racers sleep--
Lost in a blizzard twenty-four hours, repeating a circle
of travel hour after hour--fighting the dogs who
dig holes in the snow and whimper for sleep--
pushing on--running and walking five hundred
miles to the end of the race--almost a winner--one
toe frozen, feet blistered and frost-bitten.
And I know why a thousand young men of the North-
west meet him in the finishing miles and yell cheers
--I know why judges of the race call him a winner
and give him a special prize even though he is a
loser.
I know he kept under his shirt and around his thudding
heart amid the blizzards of five hundred miles that
one last wonder-cry of Childe Roland--and I told
the six year old girl about it.
And while the January wind was ripping at the shingles
and whistling a wolf song under the eaves, her eyes
had the haze of autumn hills and it was beautiful
to her and she could not understand.
2.3k
I'm from Sister Shubert's rolls and homemade chicken and dumplings
From bowling late on Thanksgiving night to trying to be the first one to find the pickle in the Christmas tree
I'm from the smell of my mom's famous pies (pecan, chocolate peanut butter and Kentucky derby fresh from the oven)
From "Sweet Caroline" and "Oh Happy Day"
I'm from the macaroni and cheese I never realized was good
From "Dance with the cow in a patch of clover" and puzzles on Nana's steps
I'm from Rook parallel to the bathtub
From my three favorite windows in the whole house and crazy surprises in my lunchbox
I'm from reading dad's sermons over his shoulder early on Sunday mornings
From lightning bugs and fried okra to the quote board and pickle pancakes
I'm from biscuits with honey for breakfast every Saturday
From McDonald's delicious chocolate birthday cakes
I'm from ***** feet and a pitch black washcloth
And that's the only way I'd want it
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
Packed in
Van shifts
Tires spin
Band roams
Desert dome
Hippie echo
Violin outskirts
Nuisance collaborator
Car crash drunk
River rolls forward
Boat rolls on
Crocodile way
Locust love
Backwoods harmonica
Dead wasp windshield
Oil pipelines old Texas radio
Kentucky derby fashion show
Rock stars and movie actors
Young kids and rock gods
Music recorded on the road
Apr 14, 2012
Apr 14, 2012 at 9:04 AM UTC
I self-indulged—
For me a rare
Lapse, an unexpected
Slide to materialism.
Repenting already,
My selfishness.
I bought myself
Internet Radio.
How could I resist?
E-Tail has made it so easy.
GOTO Amazon Electronics.
•Amazon.com: Electronicswww.amazon.com/electronics-store/b?ie=UTF8... Amazon.com, Inc. Online shopping from a great selection at Electronics Store. ... Electronics. Shop for TV & Video, ... Featured Offers in Electronics ... Electronics Categories • ($“Ka-Ching! Ka-Ching!$ Ads in the middle of the freaking poem!”)
The omnipresent marketplace:
Shop at home in your pajamas,
Pay for it with keystrokes,
Go back to sleep.
FOR SALE: Hail to thee,
Oh bittersweet Credo of Capitalism!
I finally broke down,
Accepting the fact that
RADIO: once a wireless marvel;
Now, a fading media option,
Its broadcast range
Not only shrunk, but
Signal reception, downright poor.
So, I finally broke down
Bought a radio that actually works.
So what I want to know
Is NPR so full of itself that
They go so far to find some
British-accent guy to read
Sports summaries?
I am listening to some
Pompous Pommy poofter,
At KBOS, Boston, Massachusetts,
Nigel Longshanks, himself,
Recapping “The Run for the Roses,”
Kentucky Derby homestretch,
Missed NBA semi-final foul shot &
The freakish mojo comeback of
Yankee Baseball Bad Boy: A-ROD.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
the soft grass tickles
my bare feet
as I walk across the bluegrass
and I realize that it may be
a bit sterotypical for a girl like me
a sundress wearing
sweet tea drinking
southern girl like me
to tell you that Kentucky
is not a place i want to leave
but heres the thing
I've got all my teeth
a pretty full vocabulary
and a 28 on my ACT
and here in Kentucky,
we're hobbits, not hillbillies
we're more than just a basketball team
and maybe in the dictionary,
its Daniel Boon and geography
and home of the KY Derby
but hell we've got Johnny Depp and George Clooney
and the beautiful mountains and trees
in Eastern Kentucky
and we have culture and cuisine,
and so many things
that if you still think I'm stereotypical, then maybe
I dare you to see what youre missing.
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 9:34 AM UTC
Goats are Nature's own
ambulating Demolition Derby
in hilarious miniature
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:31 PM UTC
First bump, tree stump
Second ding, one of those things
Third scrape, didn't concentrate
Whoops, bang, fourth prang
Better get a brain scan.
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 5:05 AM UTC
it's a bone dry west
for a cool east summer
i'm steeple chasing baby
from a derby to a dungeon
orange cones on the left
bright beams on a Hummer
i'm flicking off the bird
from nevada to wyoming
get this load off my chest
it burns April like a stoner
i'm a bayou baby
from the streets of magnolia
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 9:30 PM UTC
Finkle Rat and Derby Cat
Opened up a specialty shop
Which was running rather smoothly
Till kids teeth began to rot
For what it was they sold were
Candy apples, Sugar Cubes, and Lemon Drops
With Fizzie Soda to make their quota
On the loaner they had got
You see the latest shipment of Fizzies
Came from the loan shark Marco Mole
To save themselves a buck or two
Our naive friends both sold their souls
And Marco doesn't care about
Any kids or their rotten teeth
Cause he also owns a piece of Charlie Cockroach
The dentist down the street
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 7:39 AM UTC
The Big Bang
the way you slam the door
I just ignore
because I want more
The Big Bang
what you do to my heart
when we are apart
I'm under your spell
like a dart to a board
The Big Bang
when you drag your cigarette
stay for another hour or two
maybe we can listen to a cassette
Who knows whats next?
the universe and I are just as complex
The Big Bang
standby
the derby can still fall
The Big Bang
is the reason I survive
but the reason I'm alive
is because you arrived
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
Standing solid and still
just like the red oak it once was.
I trust it will hold me.
It’s sturdy and reliable.
Like the man who once sat in it.
The man who once held me.
It’s a coffee and cream color with
highlights of gold
and low lights of auburn
and each crack and stain tells
a story
The Maleficent purple stain
on the back right leg.
a toddler that would grow to be me
running with a PB&J in hand
unaware of my brother's Hot Wheels Derby
taking place beside the table.
All it took was one untied shoelace
and all I remember is a symphony of tiny cars
clinging and clanging
and four year old me
falling face first into the tile
As the PB&J propelled forward
smearing brownish, purple goop.
The crack where your left shoulder
might touch if you leaned back.
I honestly don't even know what it's from.
Maybe an argument that got too heated?
Or simple ware and tear over the years?
I never asked.
I’ll never know.
This chair brings me both
comfort and pain.
Comfort when I sit after a long day on my feet.
Pain when I walk by and stub my toe unexpectedly.
Comfort when I remember all the times he held me in it.
And pain when I remember he will never hold me again.
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 3:25 PM UTC
.
these are things that make me Sad:..
imagining how sad that Powder must be...
...after Labor day.
imagining how sad rabecca Black must be...
...on Wednesday.
imagining how sad quasiModo would be...
...in Gattaca.
imagining how sad rosie oDonnel would be...
...in Ethiopia.
imagining how sad benjamin Button woulda been..
...in Neverland.
imagining how sad sleeping Beauty would be...
...finally waking Up........n seeing meDusa.
imagining how scared free ***** must be...
...of sunshine aQuarium.
imagining how scared jimmy Neutron would be...
...in sleepy Hollow.
imagining how scared that Pingping musta been...
...of Sultan.
imagining how scared that Avatars woulda been...
...of ******
imagining how scared that Petrified wood would be...
...of paul Bunyan. (Dumb xD)
imagining how scared
six jodie Fosters would be
in a Panic room with seven Hannibals.
imaging how bad trig Palin would be...
...at Trigonometry. (too Much..)
imagining how bad epiLeptic children are...
...at Laser tag.
imagining how bad steven Hawking would be...
...at Roller derby.
imagining how bad that Rainman woulda been...
...at Rain dancing.
imaginging how bad helen Keller woulda been...
...at Karaoke.
imagining how bad desiree Jennings musta been...
...at Hopscotch.
imaginging how effortlessly,
robin willams was Acting...
...in will Hunting.
too Soon?...
...Oh........Sorry.
"Thats okay...
...its not your Fault."
Thanks babe.
.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC
the derby bots
and rounded slots,
the push,
the time,
the go.
the hold-me-down
of ever knots,
the whistle
I can't
blow.
the feigned impress,
the postured lot,
for selves,
do some,
give show.
pulled head from sand,
that anti root.
my only
hope's
to grow.
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 5:12 PM UTC