"fussin" poems
Johnny and Mary
Now Johnny knew Mary since they were little tykes,
Running in the field, riding their bikes,
Like other little kids, they stayed out all day,
Doing their chores, later they'll play,
Johnny and Mary went to school,
Tried real hard, act real cool,
Johnny noticed Mary started to grow real fine,
Nice firm ******* big behin',
Johnny thought he'd take him a chance,
He asked Mary to the high shool dance,
Mary said fine, pick me up at eight,
Dress real sharp, now don't be late,
Johnny started thinkin' this could be his night,
Throw her a line, maybe she'll bite,
Johnny and Mary started to dance real slow,
Something in Johnny's pants, startin' to grow,
Johnny asked Mary to spend some time,
Back at my place, we can sit and unwind,
Johnny took Mary straight back to his pad,
This will be the best night, he's ever had,
Poured a little wine and dimmed the light,
Made sure everything, looked just right,
Went over to the stereo and put on a song,
Then he gave her a kiss, slow and long,
Their lips met and their tongues did a dance,
As Johnny reached down and undid his pants,
He removed hers too and went to town,
Got on his knees, he was going down,
Mary started to wiggle, moan and squirm,
As Johnny's tool got nice and firm,
A few more licks, a feel and a pet,
Mary's hole was nice and wet,
Stuck in the tip, a little poke,
Then all the way, he was startin' to stroke,
As Johnny got busy and started to ream,
All the neighbors could hear Mary scream,
Johnny got tense and was about to explode,
Into Mary he shot his load,
A few days later Mary felt real ill,
Then she remembered, she forgot her pill,
Mary gave birth to a fine looking son,
Mary's father started to clean his gun,
Johnny married Mary at City Hall,
He didn't want her dad to cut off his *****
Johnny got a job so he could provide support,
He didn't want Mary draggin' him to court,
A few years down the road things didn't seem right,
Johnny and Mary were starting to fight,
There was a whole lotta fussin' and they began to shout,
Mary told Johnny she wanted him out,
Mary got a lawyer, just passed the bar,
Now Mary's driving Johnny's brand new car.
That is the story of Johnny and Mary...Later...
07-03-09.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 3:31 PM UTC
I knew a lady trapper
who would trap out in the styx
she used to be a flapper
back in nineteen twenty-six
I met her in a diner
well not really just a bar
and I told her I'm a miner
as she puffed on her cigar
She said 'Gus your kinda ugly
and your breath stinks awful bad
but I been fussin with my fugly
so I'll tell you why I'm sad
See I love to hunt for ******
it's my passion I can't lie
but I left my love's receiver
cuz she won't eat ****** pie
Now I could have dried some jerky
guess I should have fried some pork
but my ****** tastes so perky
fugly wouldn't touch her fork
Gus I miss her I'm so lonely
she's my only, what a dish
I can't leave her over ******
so from now on tuna fish!"
©2011 Lyn
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 7:29 PM UTC
Cause you see.
I can be rich and married to a woman in mediocrity;
Or I can be poor and with the woman of my dreams,
I'm sure of it.
Everyone wants a piece they can only get a tour of it.
Fussin for crumbs, I'm baking more of it.
But that's apparent; or superficial?
It's existential at the core of it.
I just need to feel.
Girl, show me something real.
Don't conceal from me.
You can get the deal from me.
We can go and peel.
You can grip the the wood grain wheel.
Make 'em tires squeal...
For me,
Is who I'm running from.
Upset with all I have and haven't done.
Under layers of writing,
Pounds of paper,
Tangles of letters,
Words rearranged,
Metaphors you may think strange.
But here I am.
Hiding in my forest of unspoken conversation.
Bits and pieces can you see me?
Look and listen do you hear me?
Maybe I feel lost because I've grown.
Trees happen to be bigger than shown.
Past poems come to mind.
Of trees;
Of me.
Of flowers;
Which happen to be about her.
Certainly, this same old ǝɔuɐp’
Cannot be my only stance.
This tree has legs,
I must move.
I just hope to not lose it,
As soon as I get in the groove.
-Luca Ivaldi
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC
When I think of B a l t i m o r e…
I think of heads hung
low;
Tides-- refusing to flow
Closed minds & troubled eyes.
Smoke in the faces of children
Who didn’t ask to be born in
Bus exhaustion
or Natural Caution.
“Ain’t nobody happy here.”
The streets creep
With tar that seeps
Along broken glass jars
(in brown paper bags, which I need not say-
for the people can’t stand-
the memories that stay)
The faces rot!
With frowns
And heads pointed
down.
Bus stops.
Endless amounts
Of cops >
Along
Graveyards & graffiti art:
Children fussin’ at each other for getting’ smart
Girls
Goin’ to class
To brush their hair
& stare
-into the mirror // rorrim eht otni-
to paint their faces
pace-less
because they think [know]
that’s the only way to make a name
in these places
Full
of
ageless, strugglin’ sameness
graveyards
&
graffiti art.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 4:02 PM UTC
It's all about those good vibes
Bouncing through my walls
Waking me up inside
It's all about the love you give
Keep on going
It's the only way to live
Put a smile on your face
There's a whole world out there
There's no time to waste
On fussin and fighting
And words full of hate
We got each other
There's no time to lose
Sing your heart out
Scream the blues
Because the sky is shining
Shining for us
So get on your groove
Put on your moves
Lets get down
Jump around
Feel the love
Floating freely
You all make it look so easy
Feels so good to feel good
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 5:25 AM UTC
Tired of runnin’
And fussin’
And sparin’ the details.
We got it good now,
A house, a family, you can go to school.
You won’t learn about us, baby,
They don’t give lessons on strange fruits.
The road derails, your smile retains:
Hope.
I pray you’ll never see blood on the leaves.
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 5:58 PM UTC
Coughing up the phlegm
I've come to realize, this big surprise
no longer can I keep it to myself
Stuff like this can grow inside the body
and it's snotty
but you need to know the facts now for yourself.
and if the sputum's yellow,
be assured that it is viral
but can spiral
into something worse
a curse or so they say
so take the time to rest
and yes,
drink water and some juice
and for a boost,
vitamin C, 1000 mgs
just twice a day.
and by all means
take your cold to Walgreen, Eckerts, CVS, or Rite Aid,
where there's medicines that might aid and I might add
many brands that you can choose from~
Robitussin stops your fussin'
Advil Sinus for your highness,
by and far my favored Nyquil night-time
is the stuff I get my snooze from
if you've got a fever and it's green
you're infected, should be seen
do not delay if it is grey
or other colors of the day
because these bugs are nasty
downright mean!
cozy up with Vicks upon your chest
mentholatum tends to clear the passage best
a little dab will also do
beneath the nares it is true
external balms and lotions help you rest.
a clean humidifier by the bed
keeps the moisture in your tissues
and that said
keep a box of Kleenex near
the softest kind will feel most dear
and place your favorite pillow 'neath your head.
It's good to keep some chicken soup on hand
it's value has been known throughout the land
keep the heat on, be a ***** and
and crack the window just a pinch
and try to sleep as much as you can stand.
in time you will recover from this hell
your symptoms will subside and you can tell
but be sure to keep your guard up,
avoid crowds
and don't be hard up,
just insist they keep their distance,
and stay well!
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 9:44 AM UTC
He sees me in the mirror
sigh and fidget with my hair,
rolls his eyes and laughs at me
" i dont know why you care".
He tells me that my smile
Could bring a grown man to his knees
That in all his years of searching ;
None had eyes like these .
He says he loves my tiny feet
And that im pretty when i cry ;
He says that im a stubburn *****
But loves the reasons why.
He tells me that my laughter
Sounds like an angels song;
And every time he hears it
He wants to sing along .
"Stop fussin in the mirror,
I'll remind you every day ,
your perfectly imperfect
and that's how you should stay. "
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
There's nothing to do here, some just whine and complain, in bed at the hospital
Coming and going, asleep and awake, in bed at the hospital
Tell me the story of how you ended up here, I've heard it all in the hospital
Nurses are fussin' , doctors on tour somewhere in India
I got one friend laying across from me
I did not choose him, he did not choose me
We've got no chance of recovery
Sharing hospital joy and misery, joy and misery, joy and misery
Put out the fire boys, don't stop don't stop
Put out the fire on us
Put out the fire boys, don't stop don't stop
Put out the fire on us
Bring your buckets by the dozens, bring your nieces and your cousins, come put out the fire on us
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 3:38 PM UTC
You will have to excuse me
This will definitely not be my best work.
I was sort of blindsided.
This poetry café is not normal,
And as you could imagine
I had a hard time writing something hype
This was unexpected.
But sometimes the best things come out of unexpected moments.
A faint cheer in a cloud of fear.
Sometimes there are times where you can’t expect a thing.
So I guess this poem is supposed to be about believing we can do it.
I think we all know we can.
But sometimes even the strongest people fall.
Confidence is great, but ignorance is not.
We are not indestructible.
In fact, failure is inevitable.
The bigger picture is often obscure.
But if one is lucky enough to prevail
It seems as if they sail,
While the rest watch wondering,
What happened to us in which we couldn’t go that far?
We all have a jealous part of us.
We all have those feelings in which we are not proud.
Humanity is sometimes just as evil as it is beautiful.
If we look at history,
It seems to be crowded with pain and unfathomable mistakes.
But pain is not what it takes.
Don’t get me wrong
Life is no fantasy.
There is no magic.
No genies to make our dreams come true.
Instead we have to work hard for the things we get
And sometimes more often than not, we lose what we work so hard to build.
And I know, I know
I can hear it
What the hell am I talking about?
I’m not hitting the theme at all.
And I’m not, or am I?
Because yes we are going to fail
It is impossible not to.
But in fact when we fail,
We have just as big a chance to make a comeback.
Yes that failure leaves us cussin and fussin
But in reality that big picture that once looked obscure
Becomes just a bit clearer now that we have failed.
We cannot go on living life thinking we know everything because there is no room to learn.
If you want to believe that you can do something
You have to prove it to yourself before you tell others.
It starts with you.
You are the beginning of your story,
And you will be there to see the end.
You are present through all of your story.
That is important.
So you know how if you get into an argument
And you say, “You don’t know me”
Well who does know you?
No one truly knows you but yourself.
So you are the only one who can take you where you want to go.
So if you want to go far
You have to get yourself there.
And to get yourself there
You have to be willing to put in the work to get there.
So it’s up to you whether or not you can make it.
It’s your choice to believe that you can do it.
Because in the end
You will be the one to fly, or catch yourself when you fall.
I can stand here and tell you cliché
Don’t do drugs and never smoke,
Or I can simply tell you that the choice is yours.
An inspiring pep talk is only a pep talk
This poem is just a poem.
It’s up to you if you listen to me and what I’m saying
It’s also up to you to criticize my every word.
You can do anything.
But anything can be good or bad.
It’s your choice.
No one is stopping you,
And if they do,
Who cares?
Because they don’t know you, right?
It’s up to you.
Choose to succeed or fall
Either way,
You can do it.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 3:51 PM UTC
With audacity. I arrived late at the terminal naked. Skycaps took my diminutive luggages away on skateboards. At the gate I vanished
Then a moment later boarding the jet without feet. Take off. Is her reaching on tiptoes to kiss me. I'm so high aero plane crawls by like seconds
The descent happens like falling asleep, landing like crashing and leaping awake.
I'm departing the cabin of imagination
down hallways, check in
Pick up baggage
Gone
Approaching exit
So cool
like low riders
A whole universe
Materialize here
Doors automatically
Step back
I'm gone
In fits and terror
I arrived like
Astronauts
A lover's letter
I'm when pigs fly,
Hell freezes over,
I'm baby Jesus returned
Two guns, fussin &fightin;
I was so gone
That for a moment
I thought I was God!
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
Come Laughing Home at Twilight
Beaumont-Hamel, 1916
And, O! Wasn’t he just the Jack the Lad,
A’swellin’ down the Water Street as if –
As if he owned the very paving stones!
He was my beautiful boy, and, sure,
The girls they thought so too: his eyes, his walk;
A man of Newfoundland, my small big man,
Just seventeen, but strong and bold and sure.
Where is he now? Can you tell me? Can you?
Don’t tell me he was England’s finest, no –
He was my finest, him and his Da,
His Da, who breathed in sorrow, and was lost,
They say, lost in the fog, among the ice.
But no, he too was killed on the first of July
Only it took him months to cast away,
And drift away, far away, in the mist.
Where is he now? Can you tell me? Can you?
I need no kings nor no Kaisers, no,
Nor no statues with fine words writ on’em,
Nor no flags nor no Last Post today:
I only want to see my men come home,
Come laughing home at twilight, boots all mucky,
An’ me fussin’ at ‘em for being’ late,
Come laughing home at twilight...
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 4:13 PM UTC
If Santa Claus snuck up on you,
would you be ready?
Don't look so haughty,
cause if you get caught bein naughty
Santa's gonna get you good, buddy.
Better shorten that list sonny.
He ain't much for greed.
Ask for a **** pony,
might get the whole stampede.
What would you do
If he snuck up behind ya,
leaned into your ear and whispered,
"I GOTCHA!"?
Better be on your best behavior.
Bein good should be your goal.
Don't think your slick. You best be careful,
unless you like bein given coal.
Look at you bein all ornery,
fussin and yellin, duckin and dodgin.
You ain't foolin no one but yourself by
sayin, "Santa ain't watchin."
You already know he's gonna write that one down.
Man, Santa's been watchin all year round.
But you did what you done, just know that he's knowin.
Welp, at least you'll be able to keep the fire goin.
Sep 14, 2021
Sep 14, 2021 at 12:46 AM UTC
(Spoken affectionately)
I see the ink’s run dry
But the words piled high
Search for a page
I remember her then
Not now and again
But always
(Scots)
Ma’ shelter when it rains
The blood in ma’ veins
Andrina
(Liverpudlian)
Wipin’ sleep from me eye
Straightenin’ me tie
Fussin’ about me
(Nicely)
Your mother should know
Well where did she go?
Nowhere.
Mar 12, 2023
Mar 12, 2023 at 5:10 PM UTC
The rats and the snakes
creep in and crawl through your brains.
Those veins are pumpin' sky blue blood.
Don't wanna circle the drain, but cycles spin 'round and 'round
and then they **** ya down in thick, black mud.
It sticks in your craw,
the way they're flappin' their gobs;
their dollars buyin' graveside seats.
Cheaters glom onto prayers the way you clutch at your chest,
and slobber in the putrid heat.
When they come for ya, baby,
maybe run with me.
Chase the dyin' light to San Jose.
No point in cryin' or laughin',
fightin', fussin' or clappin'--
Cap or Crown, it's only goin' one way.
They bought.
You sold,
missed rent.
It's getting cold.
November Rain.
It soaks you through.
But that Song, girl, it ain't nothin' new.
So punch your ticket and scoff
while we all bend and cough.
Catch the last flight, and I'll stand by.
But don't lie to yourself--
silver linings on brass,
they can't break through the gold-clad sky.
Yeah, ya silly ******
Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 11:15 AM UTC
God bless Canada
Come Laughing Home at Twilight
Beaumont-Hamel, 1916
And, O! Wasn’t he just the Jack the Lad,
A’swellin’ down the Water Street as if –
As if he owned the very paving stones!
He was my beautiful boy, and, sure,
The girls they thought so too: his eyes, his walk;
A man of Newfoundland, my small big man,
Just seventeen, but strong and bold and sure.
Where is he now? Can you tell me? Can you?
Don’t tell me he was England’s finest, no –
He was my finest, him and his Da,
His Da, who breathed in sorrow, and was lost,
They say, lost in the fog, among the ice.
But no, he too was killed on the first of July
Only it took him months to cast away,
And drift away, far away, into the mist.
Where is he now? Can you tell me? Can you?
I need no Kings nor no Kaisers, no,
Nor no statues with fine words writ on’em,
Nor no flags nor no Last Post today:
I only want to see my men come home,
Come laughing home at twilight, boots all mucky,
An’ me fussin’ at ‘em for bein’ late,
Come laughing home at twilight.
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 1:57 PM UTC
~for John Prine~
she’s eye closed, playing sleepy possum,
so I stealthy stroke her cheek, she, all smiling,
then I nose tickle my sweet-love, now frowning,
till I cease and desist, go back to stroking,
then I’m her good loving man once again
tune comes in my head from out of left field,
start to tap the beat, pic my guitar strings, roaming
all over her smooth features, now she’s all aroused,
cause she knows what I’m about and this strumming,
why that ain’t allowed, so she knocks my fingers away
later, sneak into the kitchen, she’s fussin’ - could be,
cleaning, could be cooking, but soon she ain’t moving,
cause she’s just listening to the new tune first played
earlier that morn, on her features born, a love song,
calling that song “Playing with My Love’s Face”
now she’s grabbing the biggest knife I ever seen,
waving it to and too close to fro, in my direction general,
waving it like a baton, conducting my song, singing along,
making up her own lyrics, whole stanzas, now it’s her song,
**** if that ain’t “the way the world goes round”
Apr 12, 2020
Apr 12, 2020 at 8:39 AM UTC