"dodger" poems
My mother should be an author
She carves her soul into millions of pieces
Leaving it behind all of the family photos
When I see my mother
I see a woman
Who wants to hide her soul in a needle
Just so the screaming can stop in her mind,
These bottles are rattling in the living room
You see they have put shackles on her heart,
She can't love anymore
Without having ***** in her water bottle.
Where is she hiding her beer?
I feel like my mother is giving me a scavenger hunt
From the shards of glass that were left on the baseball fields
My mother used to take me to.
You know she always wasn't like this
She was strong minded and had a big heart
Tonight I will tell you the story of a woman
Who lost her soul to the Keystones to the Miller Lites
To the ****** Mary’s.
Let's rewind time
See how to **** the soul in ten years
10- I look into my mother's eyes and I start to cry
Because I'm looking at a woman who I don't know anymore
9- I refused to bail her out of jail again
Because I'm afraid her kidney will fail if she drinks again
8- My mother staggered into the theater and disrupted the whole play,
My cast mates turned to me and asked, isn't that your mother?
7- I had to hold my mothers hand
Because she was throwing up the cocktail of drugs and alcohol
6- Daddy had to get mom out of jail she was drinking again
5- My mother throws the bottle across the room
And told me the reason why she drinks is because I'm Autistic
4- My mother overslept for my piano recital,
I didn't think it was a big deal
But I remember she spent the whole night crying
With a wine glass in her hand.
3- Mommy I didn't know your prescription came in a needle
2- Mommy the prescription say 2 pills a day
why are you taking 6?
1- My mother went to the doctor
Found out that she has Rheumatoid Arthritis
I don't know what that means,
But I know she will still be strong right?
0- She took me to a Dodger game for my birthday.
I remember Sammy Sosa hitting a home run that game
She told me that the only person that can **** your soul is yourself
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
August, the Red Line,
connected tanks
of bolted plastic vertebrae.
Every seat gone except
five rows up, where a sea lion
sprawls across two,
stuffed backpack, yellow jacket
spread out like caution tape.
His grunt a wet bark
at the glow of his screen.
Middle-school deer slip into the aisle,
chatter clipped when the sheriff drifts past,
their ears flicking, smiles bitten shut.
Not a predator- just a gelded ox,
chest puffed, badge sagging, glass-eyed,
chest rig clattering with blanks.
Two lemur-children cling to their tortoise elder,
her shell steady against the sway of the car.
She shepherds them from the surge of riders:
loud Dodger blue parrots in cholo socks,
moth-women with plumed lashes beating the stale air,
a stray dog, gutter musk dragging at its haunches.
And one gray bear
muttering alone,
arguing with her reflection.
Between Koreatown and MacArthur Park,
somewhere the sea begins to breathe again,
then, feathers forcing through my skin-
an alley gull knifing into this clamour,
scavenging inside its exhaust.
The car rattles, its ribs plated with blistered posters:
museum wings open to no one,
‘register to vote’ fading into graffiti script,
flu shots promised by smiling ghosts.
A bruised hatchling staring out beside the words
See something, say something.
The warning lights glow
like eyes hunting in the dark.
From its flanks the train
unfurls iron claws.
They rake
the tunnel walls,
the city’s bones,
the dark itself.
Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 10:00 PM UTC
Here's to the...
Calorie counter
Long sleeve wearer
Excessive water drinker
Mirror believer
Professional over-thinker
Clever liar
Hair puller
Tongue biter
Thigh hater
Toilet bowl hugger
Magazine lover
Belly fat ****
At home cryer
Bedroom hider
Internet follower
Social stink bug
One sided therapist
Friend loser
Terrifying truth
Reality dodger
Space-brained
Nicknamed
Love rejector
Anxiety collector
Roller coaster rider
Personal antagonist
Perfection chaser
Hopeless dreamer
Nothing achiever
Unnoticed angel
Silent rainbow
Blood seeker
Soul-searching rebel
Wilting rose
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 9:44 PM UTC
1
*Tap, tap, tap
Pinch and expand
Pinch and expand
Tap, tap, tap*
I love this dance you do
my dearies, each one of you
on your mobiles and devices
We too play with our fingers
and keep our eyes fixed
on your pockets and purses
and wallets
*Tap, tap, tap
Pinch and expand
Pinch and expand
Tap, tap, tap*
Stay diverted -
we love this what you do,
me Fagin
and all me children
and Jack Dawkins too,
that Artful Dodger
2
Come on, dear children of Fagin mine
this here is Paradise
All these people with eyes
and fingers on their devices
and brains in idle mode
in these crowded malls -
it’s our Paradise, dear babies mine
Whilst they are so preoccupied
let’s to our devices
And we can pick, pick, pick
whilst they tap, tap, tap
3
Ah ha, keep tapping on your mobiles
each one of you, my dearies
with your eyes on the mobile
when at the shops and in crowds
and at new year celebrations
Keep your eyes there, indeed
each one of you, my dearies
Tap, tap, tap
pinch and expand with 2 fingers on the screen
eyes mostly there on your devices
*Tap, tap, tap
pinch, pinch, pinch*
and let your two fingers
burst like shooting stars
All like a dance, as in a dance
each one of you in public spaces,
my dearies
so do the merry dance of your fingers
and eyes on the devices
And we?
We love this, me Fagin
and all me children
and Jack Dawkins too
(that Artful Dodger)
while You
tap, tap, tap
and we
pick, pick, pick
at this our harvest at shopping malls
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 8:35 PM UTC
Andy loved a girl named Sandy
Bill saw a horse standing on the hill
Cory told his mother a made up story
Dave dug many a grave
Eddy loaned his teddy to Neddy
Frank bought a Sherman tank
Greg had a wooden leg
Hilton was related to Mrs Wilton
Ivan strolled in the park with Jan
Jack scratched his own back
Kyle's hair style also suited Lyle
Lance couldn't obtain a bed valance
Max paid a hefty lot of tax
Neal earned a reputation for his *** appeal
Oscar drank at the Crown and Stag bar
Paul gave ten shillings to Saul
Quentin found a silver tin
Roger was a work dodger
Sam enjoyed a portion of Virginia ham
Timmy sure knew how to shimmy
Umberto listened to the concerto
Vlad priced an inner city pad
Wing put his arm in a sling
Xain often rode on the express train
Yule took a picture of the farmer's mule
Zeal looked forward to his evening meal
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
Abbott is a ******
Abbott is a ****
we need to get the country together
to boot him out on his ***
you see Abbott is a stupid clot
who doesn’t care for the poor
he needs money so he grabs money
to the poor peoples expense
Abbott really doesn’t get it does he
the poor are in trouble what does he care
enough to give them a home in a clothing bin
while he has a mansion to live in
I hate Mr Tony Abbott, he is a rich arrogant *****
I prefer Bill shorten at least he cares
but the country is liberalated
Abbott is a dodger of questions about the united nations
when they see him enter the country
there is definatlely no celebration
there is these words that are said but Abbott ignores them like the **** that he is
Abbott is coward, Abbott is a ****
is Canberra ever going to get better, not with Abbott they won’t
i know the labor run Canberra, but they have to run it past Abbott the fed
i call abbott the fed up brigade, everyone is fed up with him
Come on Australia vote for Shorten in the next election
look what rudd and gillard did, gave the poor money
I know the liberals say they put us in debt, but i don’t agree
i think labor care
so Abbott is a ******
Abbott is a ****
come on Australia note him out
right off his ***
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC
i am
--am i?--
yeah, i think i am
drunk drunk drunk
and signing myself up for
selective service so i
will be able to access my financial
aid and not have to cough up
almost $2,000 for one term
that me and my bank account
just really do not have, ya know?
and that little dropdown menu
well it doesn’t offer the option of:
“i am being forced to sign up for this
so i can afford college”
because i guess that sounds less
appealing than my being recruited
during lunch while i watched my fellow
(cis) male students dislocate their shoulders
doing pull ups so the older boys in uniform
would be proud of them and
maybe even give them a
nice little lanyard
because after over $100 to get
the right name and gender marker
on my id and $60 to get a new
birth certificate
i’m male enough for the government
to want to make into cannon fodder
but i’m still not male enough to
use the men’s room without the
threat of being verbally harassed
or physically assaulted
and that just makes me so angry
because here’s “bone-spurs donnie”
a known draft dodger of
at least 5 times who had the money
to pay off any doctor he wanted
trying his hardest to ban trans
people from enlisting
to fight in a war backed by a country
that wants them dead
yet that little M on my id
that i paid so much for
makes me eligible to be blown
to bits or come back to
a country that doesn’t want me anymore
with my brains scrambled from
shell shock and ptsd
because this country is willing
to pretty much force-feed young men
into the bottomless belly of the
war machine
always stoking the fires of the
military industrial complex with
money and unscarred flesh
and so much lies
and so much fear mongering
and i am just so tired
of having to fill in that
little bubble with my ballpoint
pen and a click of the mouse
pledging what could easily be the
rest of my life to being
riddled with bullets
miles away from home
just so i can grab that
financial aid
that perpetual carrot being dangled
in front of my oh so
transgender and queer nose
so i can afford an education
and not become another statistic
another person that the
united states of amerikkka
has failed
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 2:07 AM UTC
I can’t believe many want us
To starve, to sicken and die.
I can’t believe they hate dark skin
And I bet even they don’t know why.
I can’t believe they think it is fine
To tease friends who are different
And that they hate women and claim
What clearly is discrimination isn’t.
I refuse to believe your insistence
That you are a member of a church
That is fine with blocking our laws
And leaving the land in the lurch.
I don’t accept the standard cant
That all our young must go to war,
Then watch people act as if veteran’s aid
Is not part of what government is for.
It hurts to hear that you hate welfare
But gleefully grant it to the very rich
And buy aircraft and warfare equipment
As our highways fall into a ditch.
It is far beyond shameful to see
The number of our American cynics
Who would vote for a liar, and a thief
A draft dodger, a cheat and a bigot.
What has happened that we got stupid
Enough to not be able recognize
A narcissist that is in it for himself
Who is neither a statesman or wise?
How sad it has become for this land
The example of truth and wisdom
Has pitched its camp with an uncaring fool
And those who agree with him.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
Hard rubber plate there in the dust
and just beyond, a mound.
With difficulty Catfish turned
and paced the muddy ground.
Even with the walker
these few steps were hard indeed.
Shoulders weak, steps faltering
from Lou Gehrig’s sad disease.
The blue sky stretched above him
so infinite and vast.
With difficulty Catfish reached
back, deep into his past.
He did not think of trophies
or recall his perfect game.
Not at all about the millions
he once got to sign his name.
He was pitching for the Yankees
against men in Dodger Blue.
The World Series game on the line
some whispered he was through
His mind recalled each move he’d made
Each strikeout pitch he threw.
In Memory the fastball’s song
still sang out loud and true.
Like an old dog fast asleep
might dream that He’s still young.
Catfish thought about the night
His last Series ring was won
Soon, too soon, he’d be relieved
of ball, of life, of game
He’ be a plaque upon the wall
down at the hall of fame.
A few more weeks
and he’d be gone-
a casualty, nothing more.
The object now of whispered prayers,
This man fans once adored.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 4:04 PM UTC
For Steve Yocum
~~~
an old marine called me the other night
a poet from the left coast,
a correspondent and a first responder
to my messy essays
we both, vintners of men,
compared notes on our progeny's
full bodied temperament,
and our own full body's aches and miscreants
bemoaning our losses,
of earnest poets,
of friends, even foes,
and favored football teams,
and ne'er forgetting to tally up
our occasional victories
he authors books,
he authors life,
with grainy portraits,
that try to be peepholes
to clarity
me, a periodic poetist,
more confessional blogger shootist,
than artful-words-to-please dodger,
in a vainglorious futile insanely repeating attempts
to better separate
life's wheat from the chafe of its chaff
perhaps,
we shall someday meet,
a twosome of codgers,
walk the saddened-today, blood-reddened Oregon soil,
armed with each other's comforting wisdom,
tasting grapes,
acknowledging
but for the grace of god,
we go
*together, to gather,
each other closer,
walk the vineyards and the cellars
to clarify
the wine from the sediment,
getting uproariously drunk
on friendship*
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 9:34 PM UTC
Remember...
When comic books were the real big thing
and kids everywhere waited eagerly
every week excited to start reading
the latest Beano or Dandy
Remember…
Enjoying Dennis the Menace and Gnasher,
Minnie the Minx and the Bash Street Kids,
Roger the Dodger, Scrapper and Basher,
Beryl the Peril and Billy Whizz.
Remember…
Thinking Bully Beef and Chips were so great;
the awful things that Bully would do!
Not forgetting Desperate Dan and Keyhole Kate
who were always fantastic too.
Remember…
When we used to read the Sparky or the Topper
or the Buster or even the Beezer
without of course forgetting the Victor
or Roy of the Rovers either.
Remember…
When they had the Bunty for girls too,
the Mandy and Judy as well,
which many boys would read it is true;
though all promised never to tell!
Remember…
Waiting patiently each year for Santa to bring
the Annual edition of your favourite one,
spending hours on Christmas Day just reading;
and reading was the best thing under the sun!
Remember…
When everyone joined their local libraries
soon after schooldays had begun
When you were sure to find a book to please
and reading was so much fun.
Remember…
When books transported us to another world,
each new book a revelation,
instilling in us a love of the written word;
really fuelling our imagination!
Remember…
How much enjoyment you got from reading
and what little effort it really took,
how the pressures of life soon began receding
when you immersed yourself in a book.
Remember…
To try and make time to read a good book,
to take time out every now and then,
and you never know, with a bit of luck;
You might fall in love with reading again.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:56 AM UTC
I taste the hot dry air as the wind blows through the ravine.
I taste the smoky, spicy richness of meat cooked over an open flame.
I taste the sticky sweetness of a large Coke with ice.
Though my eyes cannot see the game,
my taste buds tell me that I'm at Dodger Stadium,
and I smile.
Dec 30, 2009
Dec 30, 2009 at 1:20 PM UTC
You better get the fact checkers
this doesn’t make no sense…
I feel the wild wind whipping
tearing through the fence…
Soon the walls will tumble
in a trembling blink of eye..
I know there’s an eternity
on each and every side!!
Mar 20, 2022
Mar 20, 2022 at 7:38 AM UTC
He rolled up yesterday
Out of nowhere
As always
My old friend and me
Sharing news of families
And where he's living now
With a million memories between us
We laughed about the past
Gossiped about the present
Who's with who these days
Why when and where
Gigs and music
As always
But we never mentioned the future
We rarely do these days
By Phil Roberts
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 5:17 AM UTC
Inspired by Vicki Acquah (Mama Oladeji)
God Save the Queen
Long live the King
Hail to the Chief
The Lord of all Lies
I dredged the swamp
For the bombs bursting in air
Oh, say can you see
That justice is blind
That we are all color blind
When all you can see is
The White Hot dawns early light
That might means right
Always fight with the Son at your back
And the darkness in your soul
But don’t be black?
That’s worth the bullets whizzing past
A soldier’s job is never done
Never won
A draft dodger’s never run
Never One
With the multiplicity of our multi-ethnicity
Of a nation of fools
That elects a derelict jester
Who taunts our puppet strings
Strikes the chords of the lamentations of our hearts
Heartless ********
We are no longer whole
Just a sinking hole
A pit of despair
That stares back at us
Look up
Look down
Stay down
Lock down
Look out!
Here it comes
As above, so below
The devil’s in the details
That are reduced to black and whites
We are weapons of mass confusion
Taking aim
Hiding behind His Wall
To build a nation of prisoners
Too afraid to yell out our battle calls
To seek retribution for our disillusion
To clear up the noise pollution
And fall on our knees
To take a knee
Because we NEED
We are a world of truth benders
Rule breakers
Criminal instigators
Unforeseen fornicators
Ego MasterBaiters
Serial verbal defecators
We are nothing
No One
No where
Just present
At this moment in history
When we realized we ****** up
Hindsight was blind sided
Blinded by the light
Speckled with red, white, and bruises
Masks of shame
That we were complicit in our own downfall
The Fall of Man
The blood is on our hands
Be cause we did not stop
When we knew we could
Because we thought No, meant yes
And that she didn’t really mean it
And Boys will be boys
With their unruly lethal toys
That cuts through what was Right
And Left US divided
Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 7:55 PM UTC
Five words that make my heart smile,
"it's time for Dodger baseball",
He says in the same voice,
That has lasted the many generations by choice,
It's hot and the traffic thick,
Just passing magic mountain so quick,
I'm young and my dad,
Asks if I know what is going on,
It's 510 ktla,
And I know I have the memories messed,
But here we are blessed,
With the one am that plays his voice,
All by choice,
Even if there were other stations that dial my dad wouldn't touch on a dare,
At the time I didn't care,
But I hear ol' Vin saying it's going, going,
Gone.
Some no name,
Game,
That doesn't even matter now,
But forever instead,
The game the game and the voice that,
got us through the end of the hills,
And the beginning of grapevine,
Will always be in my head,
This is 510 KTLA(orwhatitactuallywas)
What another great game
This my friends is Dodger baseball,
As it fades to static.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 2:05 AM UTC
Body shoved hard
against the metal.
Back cracked
against the lock,
all my books,
knocked, dropped,
and lost
by school mates
passing by.
Rage face curling
in a horrible form.
Like a shape shifter,
I watched her
change faster
then any monster
in movies
or on tv.
So, daily
I wished
to be invisible,
not a superhero
just a perfect dodger
so, no one could see me,
and I could
sit peacefully
reading and thinking
about everything
instead of living in
daily anxiety,
jumping
at the slightest touch
overly alert, and panicking
too much.
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
i wish you did not strip my brain into a live wire
make my electricity coagulate like blood
peel back my layers of dead skin
and paint new coats on in primal mud
i wish you didn't build our love from hate
or at least the artful dodger's ambiguity
like an electron giving me only time or place
but never reality
Jul 23, 2010
Jul 23, 2010 at 7:03 PM UTC
this was it, the sideways glace with criminal intent
tax dodger, millionaire with make-up
slyly fleecing sheep off poor citizens backs
living within wind and rage on a mountain top retreat
glass chandeliers, wool carpets, ivory wall hangings
smoking cubans, smirking has-beens
'who are they but grovelers in the grime
of social disgrace'. The lord.
no, i'm not i countered, shrinking in my walrus skin,
of shades of brown and chameleon
i didn't do it. I was just there buying groceries
for a weekend soup.
take him away, he is a liar, his face says so
his words are smooth as ***** glass
inserted in a conscious effort to fool us.....
five years will teach him temperance
make him see routine, file his taxes,
place him in a cell with accountants,( the cells are full of "em)
lock him up in tax forms
place him in a poverty trap
let him learn not to get rich by his wits
wits are for whites only.
skin colour is everything now. ha ha.
case closed.
throw away the key.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 19 days ago
- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11670069-Your-honor......-by-Marshall-Gass-noguest#sthash.TB0bh83H.dpuf
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
Loneliness
Made himself comfortable in my heart
He took up a chair
Set it backwards
And swung a leg over
With an inaudible sigh
Sat on down
Settled in,
Right beside
The torn edges
And split seams
Started
Picking
Tearing
Scratching off
Strips
Of my damage
Of my out of control.
He smokes and smolders
Like a haystack
Silently igniting
Turns pebbles into boulders
That sink me
Deeper
Tighter
Slighter
Into myself
Until my chest
Explodes
And strips of loss
Scatter at my bare feet
Him,
The lonely man
With the loud voice
And vacant
Laugh.
He can fill a room
With his technicolour coats and masks
And fade the brightest star
With his undying pallor
That is sewn just beneath his skin.
He is the crafty artful dodger
Of bullets to the heart
Ducks and weaves
And falls away
Down the dark
Alley ways
Of this damaged
urbanized
Over developed
Being.
Lonley man.
Pulled up a chair
And made himself at home
In my heart.
Mar 15, 2011
Mar 15, 2011 at 11:46 PM UTC
Loneliness
Made himself comfortable in my heart
He took up a chair
Set it backwards
And swung a leg over
With an inaudible sigh
Sat on down
Settled in,
Right beside
The torn edges
And split seams
Started
Picking
Tearing
Scratching off
Strips
Of my damage
Of my out of control.
He smokes and smolders
Like a haystack
Silently igniting
Turns pebbles into boulders
That sink me
Deeper
Tighter
Slighter
Into myself
Until my chest
Explodes
And strips of loss
Scatter at my bare feet
Him,
The lonely man
With the loud voice
And vacant
Laugh.
He can fill a room
With his technicolour coats and masks
And fade the brightest star
With his undying pallor
That is sewn just beneath his skin.
He is the crafty artful dodger
Of bullets to the heart
Ducks and weaves
And falls away
Down the dark
Alley ways
Of this damaged
urbanized
Over developed
Being.
Lonley man.
Pulled up a chair
And made himself at home
In my heart.
Mar 15, 2011
Mar 15, 2011 at 11:46 PM UTC
down isn't what
you think it.
the way the sun don't
go 'round us.
misdirected on a hit
(fucky little bullet-dodger)
we ripe for nothin',
curse-tailing the spit-shines.
just back-and-forthin',
back-and-forthin',
till the burden
drop, till the sun-
she gone.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 1:23 AM UTC
Untamed mammals release tensions before mine own eye's. Chains art broke, none more cloaks to hide those dreading thoughts of suicide. Raging dictating swearer's, jewels traded for tools as the sun lowers. Tis this place gets rarer and bare. . . . . . .Cars surround. Compound their rubbers to bullets of blood issued steel. . .Captivating and excruciating. Music to thy ear's turneth to bad news! ! Chess sweepers. Checker winners. Both losers whilst the rest born sinners. . . Costly state pay to fatcat pocket books hands; some issue warnings whilst protective custody issues dull demands. . . . . All prosecution standeth to issued remaxed detective blogees. . . . . . .redneck respecters cometh with protectors whilst the odd breeds cometh with a dodger. . . . . .mystique, defeat. . . . .to thy hands thou art tied from behind! Move up the latter, tasteth thine coroded own chatter, the deaf art now the blind. . . . . . .
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC