"doug" poems
Cars, are's, bars, git-are's, oov-are's, dars and mars
With these I can construct a rooping Flargnar. Cigars.
And without these I am too **** in the far. Pooping in the car.
Now can I find the Kragar? Or have a lost it in Nar?
Wigga foug under the dug like a big bug in the rain, its all the same.
What a doog? Got a Spoog? Butter up your hands and put them in the dands.
If ever should have shooken my loog, then up-chuck all the poog! What a gwoog! Me!
But who else could it have been! In the long run no one but we.
We cannot it be, it was the glove who fell in love with that dove!
Show me the rub! For we need it to subsub.
Hrug, Hrug, hrug magug! shrug off the flug, please doug do a love for the bitter twub!
In the end it doesn't matter, I had to fub to wub it dub!
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 11:52 PM UTC
an average American
in a slept-in crumpled suit
stuffs today’s unread news
into holes in his shoes,
burps the taste of greasy chicken soup
sliding stale mission bread
down his gullet
regards two smelly
rag-tag ****** hobos
lapping the same charity meal
and realizes sadly,
the Bolsheviks may be right.
doug curry
may 4, 2012
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 12:56 PM UTC
My early memory of farm,
Blackfella’s hill, banana sand,
exploring, chasing rabbits.
And riding round with grandpa,
in the white and well loved station wagon
checking sheep, windmill and chooks.
The lollies in the tin were there,
to help him stay awake at night;
but grandchildren were once allowed
to sample from the tin of treats,
in longer trips with grandparents,
while out on country roads.
The farm, a favourite place of mine,
away from school and normal life,
but Modb’ry North not quite the same.
With grandpa still out shearing though,
the farm-like feel not far away,
and granny kept a strawb’rry patch.
I went a-shearing with him once,
About six customers that day
and I can’t count the load of sheep.
I earned five dollars on that day,
while travelling around in ute
with shearing stuff all in the back.
His love of music satisfied,
the grandchildren are all gifted,
the music played from instruments
of cello, clarinet and bass
of flute, piano, violin,
and voice as well from Kate and Jo
Called grandpa day or dad or Doug
he’ll be remembered, days to come.
The stories will be told and told
of happenings while he was here,
from farm or Modb’ry North or else,
from other places he has been.
Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 11:01 AM UTC
today i
drank two cups of tea
and read a text from my mother
about my dying great uncle
and thought about damming up the ocean in my eyes
but it had other plans
and today i
am sorry that i am cut off from half my family
sorry that my precious, dying great uncle
thinks that i hate him
because of my mother
and today i
am writing a ******* email
to tell him otherwise
before he
dies
he will not die
in hate
**** you,
mom.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 6:47 PM UTC
you can wear your cap twisted sideways
sag your pants down to your knees
ride a pachyderm or a mule that brays
be whatever kind of fool you please
sing love songs in the rose garden
or complain how the dollar done fell
knowing qadafi, hussein, and bin laden
have all been dispatched to hell
you can rant and rave about raw deals
you can raise your snout and sashay about
or he-haw and buck, kick up your heels
or vote for more hope or to kick da *** out
you can lean to the left or to the right
weighing the pros and cons and hype
but you can't stay out of this fight
and claim you're just not the type
to freely elect their governments and laws
evers, walesa, mandela, and susan b
lived and died for just such a cause
to see the people's voices set free
but if you just call it mumbo jumbo
and aloofly let this moment pass
we all may be led by Dumbo
or maybe that other *******
what percentage do you claim?
forty-seven, one, or ninety-nine?
tea party? occupier? some other name?
are you just spouting a party line?
all our blood runs red
'bove us all the sky is blue
and no matter what is said
there's one thing we all should do
hadn't you better cast a vote?
against the ones who vote aginst you?
i think you'd really better vote ...
it's the least but the best thing you can do.
doug curry
10/24/2012
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC
Stay you
Stay true
Change not
Others has been in your shoes and got talked about and criticized too!
Be different.
Why be the same?
Even twins hates dressing the same way.
Others has faced comments for being different
Critiqued for drawing attention by those seeking control.
Muhammad Ali, totally tested authority of rules.
Got talked about by the same kinds crying about your sportsmanships of being different.
Stay being Cam.
When others cries about your ways.
Goe Rhett Butler and say, you don't give a ****
James Harris, Warren Moon and Jefferson Street Joe Gilliam all went before you.
And was questioned about being a quarterback too!
Notice if let to some you be playing a different position.
Doug Williams, changed all that when he became the first Superbowl winning quarterback.
Sure you could cave in and pretend the act of a Russel Wilson simply to be liked.
But being Cam is what you most in life should always be like?
Cause the press media doesn't pay your bills at night.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 12:41 PM UTC
A Parody
Brigitte my love
Our Country suffers of many debts
The people are restless
Whatever shall we do love?
Ah Macron, we must think past the cookies
The solutions are complex, answers evasive
Let me speak with Marie Antoinette, she shall know!
Queen of Navarre, By god we shall be saved!
Marie, Marie Antoinette our people are restless
Our republic is in debt. these are crazy times!
Whatever shall we do?
I am fed up, allons-y
Ah fear not, if they have not bread!
Let them eat Nutella!
Lower the prices
Nutella for the masses!!!
Marie, are you sure? very very sure of such things?
Oui oui, on with it, my father was emperor of Rome
Nutella will calm the masses
Come here Nemo. taste, see even Nemo is tres happy now!
And so France lowered the prices of Nutella
Thus began the nouveau French Revolution
Riots in the streets, brawling in the magasins
The uprising has began, we want our Nutella for free
The masses rose
Nutella for all, Nutella for sans prix
We are all somewhat fou for Nutella you see!
And so the masses fought each other for Nutella's liberty
Nutella one and Nut Ella all!
I swear to your Brigette
We should have given them Macarons!!!
People remain civilized with cafe and cookies! n'est pas?
Emmanuel my love, fret not
The revolution shall be quelled
Qh I have the perfect person for this
He shall restore order to our dear republic
Prey tell Brigette? Who could do such a thing now
Riots everywhere, the masses fight each other daily?
The streets are not safe
There is a shortages of Nutella now, we are doomed cheri
Non non mon amour, I shall call Alizee
She shall sing us out of the terrible mess
She is the mistress of Doug McMillion
This man can save us all!!
Brigitte, who is this man you call Doug?
Why Emmanuel he is the president of Walmart
He has squashed many Black Fridays rebellions
He shall save us all!!!!!!
From these unruly unsavory Nutella shoppers!!!!!
Vive la France!
Vive Alizee
Mange ton macaroon mon cheri
C'est ton droit et ta liberté
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC
Yeah, (start writing)
Tell me, does this scenario seem unfair?
I wished her sweet dreams but only gave her nightmares
Maybe it's the fact that she doubted every bit of my worth!
Maybe it's the fact these insecure women only bring out my worst
Her characteristic flaws are far from heavenly sent
Sip my glory baby, allow my music to be your moments of regret
Hold on girl, promise my rise ain't done yet!
Imma drain ya heart until there ain't nothing left.
All this talent that was all EXternally formulated
Her actions made the hook
Her ******** made the whole creation
I'm plotting revenge baby, so just be patient
Angel eyes...(psh) since when the **** did they start looking like satin?
This **** right here is far from a past love song
This I'm doing me, you gon remember Doug song
Easy to judge me when the criminal was dead wrong
**** venting
When the boy is so far gone.
Take a shot for me, baby let me buy you a drink
You gunna wanna drink away those tears after you read this permanent ink
-Dougie #lostLove
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 1:32 AM UTC
SuzAnne, nee Christine
Irascible, Incorrigible, Indefatigable, Affable
Adopted sister of Doug and Mike and sort of Jill
Lover of ideas and stances
Who fears laryngitis and deafness
Who needs music and malleability
Who gives grades and advice
Who would like to see Firenze and the Pyramids of Giza
Who lives in Hot Water
Wilson, nee Doe
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
Starlight …
Icy crystalline sparkles
beaming brilliance
‘gainst the moonlit winter sky
Stars bright.
Luminescent wonders.
Scintilla laid bare in the heavens
by the pale white light of the moon
Full moon
bathing dingy cityscapes,
their dim lit ****** tales told
‘neath streetlamps’ jaundiced glow.
We walk,
slip on ice, crunch through snow,
watching for sliding cars
and dangers lurking in shadows.
Moonlit
whitewashed winter wind
winds through desolate streets
on a pale cold night in the city.
Walk on.
Whistling winds, barking dogs,
chill us, spur our pace, on
through the moonlight and cold.
Our wish
upon this night’s heavenly stars
is to be safely home, watching
from icy windows … winter walkers.
Doug Curry
1/6/10
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 11:50 AM UTC
*********** with a bad grl?,
Consider it a fatality,
Seems good girls gon bad
Whatever happen to originality?
It's a tragedy,
Brights spots in a shadow life just ain't happening, keep rappin then,
Express stress fractured thoughts through a hollow pen...just to simply vent, and offer vacant space in a mind up for rent, let me repent, while I'm face to face with an angel who's apparently heaven sent,
With angel wings...the irony of it, is she does devilish things...That's what life brings.
You ask, Doug will it ever change?
Well, a woman's lips produce love, while venom pumps thru her fangs, and her beauty has you in chains, her *** injects, complication into your veins...and the truth of it all is that men also do the same..
Stuck in a vicious cycle, opposites acting so spiteful
Will it ever change? Nah...
Not if we keep implementing love as a payback rifle. (Bang!)
- No disrespect, just tryin to be insightful.
- Dougie simps
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 3:01 PM UTC
I don't have my black pen today and it's killing me.
The blue ink is murdering me.
I'm so dramatic, remember? ;)
So how have you been?
I like all your new clothes,
The sweatshirts and stuff.
Except the drug rug;
That still makes me a little uncomfortable.
But I can get over it.
I've been pretty good.
I was failing English a few months back.
I'm better now!
Have you done any of the Macbeth diary project?
I haven't. Glad she gave us that extension.
Hey, I started Breaking Bad a while back.
NOW I GET THE HYPE.
It's so good.
Only on season three, though.
P.J., Doug, Claudia and I
Want to have a Tremors movie night.
(Honestly, the idea's been thrown around for months.)
You should come!
Do you even know what Tremors is?
It sounds AMAZING.
Well, actually,
We all paid for the movies.
But maybe you can just mooch off me and come anyway.
You'd love it.
People keep trying to be Joe's and mine
Third wheel.
I wish it were you.
You were my favourite third wheel.
You're so good at it!
I guess I'll just deal with the ones I've got now.
I'll be honest,
It has been rough since you left.
I've been crumbling significantly lately,
Missing you a lot more.
Joe's been helping,
Really well, too.
I was a hot mess before he started helping me.
I think you two would like each other,
If you got to know him.
And I . . .
I cut myself again.
More this time,
A lot more.
Go on, yell at me and storm off
And ignore the problems.
But I've stopped
Again.
I don't like it when you yell at me,
In case you haven't gathered.
It's so scary,
The only time I'm truly terrified of a person.
All the anger surging through your arms. . . .
The anger in your eyes. . . .
Your eyes are angry all the time.
You have the fiercest green eyes. . . .
ANYWAY, I'm off topic.
How are you doing in Algebra?
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
My uncle believed in aliens
UFOs n’ all he had boxes upon boxes
of articles in the halls it was the first thing on his mind
and the last thing on his breath and my mother couldn’t stand it
that’s he’d never let it rest he vowed to me he’d find them that he’d
become one of their own and that I shouldn’t doubt him when
he used his serious tone he’s been gone for quiet
some time now he left without saying jack
the
only thing
I wonder is
if he’s ever
coming back
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 4:10 PM UTC
One eyed Doug is dead,
Mario told Trey
at the foot of the trail
where they caught each other
sneaking up to the old civil war fort.
they walked up together
where the trees made it
seem later in the day,
catching the stride
through the deep shadows to the top.
They heard the fire
cracking and voices stirring the embers,
stirring all the Coyote and Deer
to the outskirts, away from
Justin and Nick, resting at home,
Sitting with newly lit eyes
Glazed against the giant logs
Lava-tinged
Gargoyle’s roasting
slowly in the fire
Mario lifts the log
where Doug always sat, that somehow
never got burned.
He lifts it high,
like a ghost
they see in the slant
of the train bridge walls.
Shoves it hard
breaking open new fires
breaking apart
the civil war owl
rising up from the ashes
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
These are my thoughts,
On life, and love.
Life is so trivial,
Random and patternless,
Or is it?
Life is so unimportant,
But yet important enough,
To have an underlying meaning,
An underlying pattern.
But so unimportant,
Unless you have something to live for.
Love,
Another trivial thing, maybe,
But together,
Life and love,
The most important.
What's even crazier,
Is I'm crazy for someone I don't even know,
But yet,
I know it's not lust.
This I know,
Because I don't have the physical urge,
This I know,
Because I want to get to know her.
It's not lust,
But, it's not love,
Because I don't even know her,
To early to tell.
But I think about her everyday,
I've never thought more about someone who I don't even know,
Am I crazy?
Maybe.
But,
Even though I don't know her,
It feels like I've known her my entire life,
And I will tell her that,
Just not in the first conversation,
Or maybe I will.
I once heard though,
That you don't give up on someone,
If you think about them everyday,
So, I won't give up.
I'll just finally introduce myself,
See where it takes me,
See where it takes us,
'Cause I've got a good feeling about her,
About this possibility.
First things first,
"Hello, I'm Doug Fruin, and I believe we've met before."
Jan 16, 2010
Jan 16, 2010 at 4:39 PM UTC
*A Story of Scientology and the Mental Health System Connection
SEEKER*
Now I can hear you saying to yourselves,
"So. You said you were smart. Why did you get involved with a crazy cult like Scientology?" Well. Two reasons. 1) I was raised an atheist (Humanist), but had a seeker's soul. I became very spiritual, like I said. I also had a desire to HELP people. Humanity. I still do. But because I had a godless upbringing I was left open to deception. And 2) I found a boyfriend. Or, I should say, he found me. One of Scientology's tried and true methods of recruitment.
I had another friend, a ***** Jewish scientologist (yes, there can be that sort of thing, as you can be "any faith" and still be a scientologist... hmph!). She introduced us. I was impressed by two things. He was an instructor at the "Mission". And he could tell you things that seemed psychic. One of the procedures for impressing people to sign up for classes and "processing" was this. Doug would position you in a certain part of the room. He'd have his back to you. Then he'd tell you to walk away from him... then stop abruptly.
**He'd be able to tell you when you stopped!** And he could do it every time! This really impressed me. Until I found out he looked into the reflective surface of a large glass covered poster that was on the wall! Lol! What a con artistic magician HE was! HA!
I was totally gone over by the registrar (salesperson). She stuck to me like glue until she FINALLY figured out, Yes! I had NO MONEY! So I didn't get any training or processing. Which was a BIG part of why I stuck around. I didn't even read "Dianetics" by L Ron Hubbard. Doug told me a little about it. But most of his energy was expended trying to get in my pants... a fruitless endeavor to say the least!
He was instrumental in getting me up to Phoenix for the fateful "Flag Orientation Tour". The recruitment campaign which would change my life forever...
Where I signed my life over to Scientology's Sea Organization for the next BILLION YEARS.
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 10:47 PM UTC
No Tell Motel
Low rent rendezvous
Johnny and Darcy
Modern romance
She lived at the doctors house
With the loaded gun
Bang.
Both were going out with
Dancin' Doug
Though nobody knew
They always did their dance at noon
Poor Johnny, he always came to soon,
He was from Virginia City, Nv
A small town boy with a cosmic mind
Darcy was a runaway from Wyckoff, New Jersey, escaping her family having an adventure she had no where else to go
They all lived in the dust on
Homer Lane
A dusty dirt road
Dancin' Doug threw a benefit
No one knew what for
He scheduled bands to play
BYOB
Smoke anything tree
The moon was full
The colored lights were twinkling
Dancin' Doug saw Johnny and Darcy
smooching to
A cover of Dancing in the Dark
Maybe it was the Ecstasy
or maybe it was the whiskey
He didn't know what to feel
jealousy, great love, or greed
He took all their money
And danced on
in
the dust
at Homer Lane
Johnny and Sue
Headed on over to room 102
at The No Tell Motel
Another low rent rendezvous.
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 11:15 AM UTC
[Since the season has been a bit overwhelming for me, I wanted to share a children's poem from my earlier collections. Hope you enjoy this other side of my personality ;-)]
DIGGIN’
Doug dug a hole to China
And there upon the way
Another Doug was digging
To see the U.S.A.
Doug and Doug stopped digging
Then heard more digging sounds.
A shovel came protruding
And Dougie was inbound.
Dougie, Doug and Doug sat down,
And I’m not kidding you,
The dirt collapsed above them
And Doug the Fourth came through.
Eight more Dougs came digging,
A dozen Dougs in all.
It felt so overcrowded
They dug four mammoth walls.
Now, middle earth’s a party,
So if you dare the trek,
Come dancing down with diggers
At 12 Dougs Discotheque.
Steve Roberson
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
So much commotion!
The sounds of the pavement,
Screaming save me.
But the signal must be distorted,
One more teen being slang while one more baby is being aborted.
The cries are constantly being ignored,
For the citizen defined heroic.
Has yet to hear the sound,
While another body hopelessly fall onto the ground.
The sounds of the pavement crying out rivers of blood,
While another parent is being confronted with a simple hug,
Trying to make sense of why she is now burying her only son Doug.
So with every ounce of love!
She shouts does my cry fall upon death ears,
But the signal is interfered by the neighborhood fears.
She shouts, "HELP ME!" please confess.
But one more time her call was placed to the test.
See we are constantly being placed in a position,
Where kids are mentally missing.
And no matter how much you talk they never tend to listen.
Which leads them?
To the code of the hood,
A snitch is never good.
But that method is so misunderstood...
Static reception, static reception,
Where is the signal so needed to convey protection?
I suppose the signal is simply lost!
Or is it being masked with the sounds of the pavement and death is the cost?
From the cradle to the grave,
You can hear the pain in the pavement soaring as high as a wave.
In a voice of harmony shouting the phrase,
"Save Me"!
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 8:30 AM UTC
Me-
“D” UP! “D” UP! put them hands up, hands up.
And I’m robbing folks on the pass if they slip up.
Don’t allow nobody to pass by you, move your feet.
Don’t go for every reach, just keep them in front of you my G.
They dealing with a team full of experts.
Juice & I will double-team, so squad be on high alert.
Make them work, cut off those passing lanes and
once they turn the ball over, we’ll be gone in an instant.
Juice-
Aye, look at these wanna be play makers.
Zay steal that, now pass that.
Cause I’m about to lob that to my boy Doug.
BOOM!!! I see you Doug with the 360 alley-oop dunk!
YOOO! Ball is thrown in, watch for the pass and skip!
Me-
No worries I got the ball my guy, don’t trip.
Here Juice! Run 54-hip.
Juice-
Aww snap! Time to ****
I’m about to put the boys in their feels!
Cross-over stepper, step-back decker.
I’m a G.O.A.T. getter, nobody does it better.
Weak mismatches and easy pass dishes.
Pick & role to the pocket, they can’t stop this.
Zay-
Man, we about to hurt these fools on the other end too.
About to get tortured as we break their hearts in shambles.
And when we rock them and stop them at the rim, it’s straight blocking.
Even if they try to shoot, BLOCKA, BLOCKA, BLOCKA!
Juice-
It is what it is fam, to bad they about to lose.
Zay-
At the end of the day, what the hell they gonna do?
Juice-
Now this is epic. We got them looking pathetic.
I said what I said, ain’t no room to be apologetic.
Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 2:58 AM UTC
Words convey so little,
like the beauty in your eyes,
or the ways which I am fickle,
the way you change your voice,
when you ask a question,
or how I hate the way I've been a yes man,
Things,
simply just fall apart,
but you know,
that I know,
that you've got a good heart.
It's just been toyed with,
by everyone,
not just him,
we're all under the gun,
I just convert it to hymns.
If people were stories,
made up of text,
I would be a dirge,
the end,
nothing else left,
simplified for those,
who care not for it,
saddening prose,
which causes lament.
That was the way,
that I felt in the heat,
and I met an artist,
who overlapped with her sweeps.
Over time we bonded,
shared joy,
and misery,
but to you,
without your knowledge,
I've remained a mystery.
It wasn't on purpose,
I was simply too scared,
of someone like me,
someone so rare.
But every time,
I've been on the brink,
you come back to me,
and I don't have to think.
Being alone with my thoughts,
was something to dread,
to dwell on the things,
inside of my head,
but maybe now,
it isn't so bad,
where happiness flowers,
creation is to be had.
Of that artist,
I am always in debt,
but in a brief instant,
she saw and she fled.
Days went by,
and I simply gave up,
the notion she'd return,
so I live in a truck.
The lessons I'd felt,
were worth so much more,
than the in-taken substance,
or a night on Doug’s floor.
A fictional letter,
came drifting by,
the name was now foreign,
yet still caught my eye,
and it was then I realized,
a canvas is I.
And therefore,
what if people were art?
We are things of beauty,
that can be torn apart.
And the artist itself?
A combination of their works,
the intrinsic sustains,
as the extrinsic smirks,
creators as we,
see every flaw in the plan,
we demand perfection,
or as close as we can.
While work will be done,
with meticulous ease,
our time alone,
can sting us like bees.
I could make metaphors,
for months upon years,
but my learned nature,
makes me imagined deaf ears.
When the artist came,
my craft was the best of my life,
nothing was framed,
and no bliss led to strife.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 2:10 AM UTC
Every time I walk out of my room
both of my cats are sitting there
giving me ***** looks.
Almost as if I owe them money
from a poker game that we played
a few weeks ago and I haven’t called them since.
It makes me wonder if maybe they are mad at me.
What the hell did I do to them?
Yeah, sure, I stepped on your tail once or twice kitty,
shoot me.
But **** man, I pet you. I feed you.
I play with you.
I buy you toys.
I get you high. (On catnip, Jesus, I’m not cruel.)
**** if that’s the case, you want some kitty ****
I’ll figure something out.
I’ll do anything to make you purr.
Remember when I got you those really nice boots
that you walked around in for maybe 5 minutes
and never put on again?
What about that time I bought you
that really expensive cat food that
you said you wanted so much
and then refused to eat?
I’m sorry about the time you saw me petting
the neighbors cat, I told you it wasn’t what it looked like.
No, I swear I didn’t like Doug the Pug’s photo on Facebook.
Why does it seem like I do everything wrong?
Oh wait.
I got it.
My cats are females.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 5:50 PM UTC
My birthday is coming this very week.
It's probably why i seem such a freak.
In spite of my taking great quantities of drug;
It's still not so easy being a light-hearted Doug.
To scam my way through my life in New York.
To produce and direct this Wednesday's PORK.
To constantly be cleaning my ******* bedroom.
It's just too much to add to this winter's gloom.
And to top it all off, I can't believe that it's true
But somehow this week I'll turn Forty-Two!
Shit! How's it add up? Fuck! How can I win?
I guess I could say, "I'm twenty-one! Again."
I mean in a nightclub bathed by red light
Not even my corpse would look much a fright.
A shower, a haircut and with any luck
I'll get what i want... a rowdy long ****
So I'm road worn and rattled and nothing is new.
For crissakes almighty I'll be forty-two!
The thing about aging, as best I divine
Is doing it all for a great second time.
So that rowdy long **** better make it a double.
I'm ****** up and crazy and looking for trouble.
A dangerous outlook for someone my age?
I got here today without skipping a page
And I've already committed most every sin.
Who cares what will happen? I'm twenty-one! Again.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 5:39 AM UTC