"gus" poems
My life was saved the other day
A golden retriever, both dumb and brave.
Country winds howling in their greatest defense
As I waltzed 'tween electric and barbed-wire fence.
He let out a bark, “It's time to turn back!”
Soon followed a powerful THUD and a CRA-A-A-CK.
If not for that old dog running after me,
I would have been stuck under a fallen oak tree.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
AS GAEILGE
( In Irish )
Dún do shúile
(Close your eyes)
Codail go lá...mo ghrá séimh.
(Sleep until day...my gentle love) .
Codail go sámh go sámh.
(Sleep peacefully...peacefully) .
Éirdeoidh an ghealach seo...
...is rachaidh an ghrian seo faoi
(This moon will rise...
...this sun will set)
aire 'gus grá
i gconaí
(care and love always)
gach oíche 's gach lá
gach lá 's gach oíche.
(every night every day
every day ever night) .
Mo phlúirín!
Mo stóirín!
Mo mhuirnín!
(My little flower!
My little treasure!
My little darling!)
Ach anois...
(But now...)
codail go sámh go séimh
(sleep peacefully...gently)
go fáinne an lae
(until the break of day)
le mise
ar do taobh.
(with me
by your side) .
Losing our baby
late into the night
holding this little thing
that only attempted to be human
unable to let go
I clasped the foetus
tightly in my hand
& buried it in the dawn
of our local park
under a recently planted
red rose bush.
In my grief
flower & baby
became one
and night after night I climbed
over high railings & even higher stars
to talk to her in the dark in Irish.
Or sing: My Love is like a Red Red Rose.
Or cry...or...cry.
Almost got arrested one night
by an Irish cop
drawn to the sound
of Irish emerging from darkness.
Guess he let me go because - it wouldn’t look good
on a charge sheet:
“The defendant was talking
& crying to...a flower.”
- in Irish.
Eist...eist
(listen...listen)
duinne eagin ag caoineadh
(someone is crying)
in a dorchasan
(in his darkness) .
Fill...fill...a run o!
Fill a run o is na imigh uaim.
Fill orm a chuisle a stor
agus chifeadh tu an gloire... ma fhillean tu!
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
Must we apply Glue on the Negative
When the Photo was meant to bring Good Thoughts?
She was with you; And on the Positive
Her Smile was the Change she had long since brought
It wasn't much to sulk on Uncle Gus
When many Witnesses saw you on Ice
Her Face also appeared; In excitement, must
Try to fit her Visiting Heart for size
How did I know this? With all Windows displayed
And most Unregistered Tributes recorded
My Laughter sincere; And Monsters dismayed
That no Finger can keep you Separated.
Indeed, my Elder Instinct will adjourn
The Sober Similes I must re-learn.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC
I see him everyday
Riding on the bus.
His head down
His long frown
Poor Gloomy Gus.
Everyone who tries
To talk to him
To meet his eyes,
Only gets pushed away.
Poor gloomy Gus.
I'd give him a piece of candy,
But he'd slap it from my hand,
If only his mother had held him,
I wish he could understand,
We all just want him to smile
And sing, and enjoy everything.
But, poor gloomy Gus,
Just sits on the bus,
Feeding his hate
And starving his love.
Poor, poor,
Gloomy Gus.
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 8:39 AM UTC
Motel moons, left of face
In room 12, a thing named Grace
She's missing ***** & he's missing eggs-
Band-Aids on the neck
Royal Hawaiian
Big Ad's A-Flyin' (Bye!)
Cowboys in black dusters
And aliens in track suits
Drinking coffee with the common man
Blue-hooded and faceless, walks by again
Third-reel-real headshot,
Kept as a souvenir by an FBI actor
A man can do a lot with his chin
Uncle Sam's tonic & gin
Not made to be an Earthling
Not fit to be an alien
Stars are flickering lights
On Big Empty nights
Three days in the desert
Minus pie sauce in the sky
What's in the blue suitcase?
Why the blue bowling shoes to get to that place?
"Just get on the bus, Gus...
... And get yourself free"
Blue-sky clouds on black
Whipped cream & jack
The United States of Aliens
And a Person in a circle
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 9:19 PM UTC
I killed myself today.
It was too much.
The debt,
The expectations,
The hippies,
The stonefaced
Unsympathetic Vietnam vets asking me if I was a *****
To tell you the truth, Gus,
You've got to be pretty **** ******** to slit that throat,
To pull that trigger,
To hang that corpse from a rafter high.
But I did it classy.
Yeah.
I died like a Roman who had plotted against great Caesar.
I went home,
Slipped into the tub wearing a suit I pieced together from Uptown Thrift.
As the scorching water flowed,
I sipped wine and read the bible.
King James Version only, mind you.
As the water approached my neck I shut it off.
I laughed at the hypocrisy:
A suicide scene with a bible strewn about.
I muttered,
Then took the knife and opened up my veins.
I bled out.
My thoughts drifted to depressing things:
My 2 year old brother working a night shift at Walmart holding back his tears while being yelled at by a balding middle aged man who never did anything with his life,
A dog corpse ***** and mutilated by some *******
A banker smoking a cigarette and laughing in an infant's face,
And the world turning on.
As it always does.
As it always will.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
best way
to describe him
charlie chaplin
wearing stan laurel's
black and white suit.
black hat, white gloves
funny walk..
does not say much
but forever making us laugh
he is just not sure,
why that tail thing
follows him everywhere...
loves the blucat...
the blucat tolerates him
but is warming by the hour
he is tod's new cat...
the blucat....gus is
geting on and prefers
to sleep...
timothy tuxedo
(he was going to be captain wrinkly drawers....but sanity
prevailed...can you imagine
standing at the the back door
and calling that cat..)
...plays
until he drops...
this will be a good thing
once tuxedo boy stops living
in the bottom of the shower...
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 3:31 AM UTC
we're aboard the bus
me and Gus
me and Gus
we're aboard the bus
we're going to West Avenue
to throw a few punches
in the gym with Stu
we're going to West Avenue
to throw a few punches
in the gym with Stu
Stu is a great puncher
his punches are accurate
his left hook
knocks other dudes
really flat
Stu has them dudes
well ironed out on the mat
Stu has them dudes
well ironed out on the mat
us guys on the rough side of town
have to know how to solidly punch
to knock those gang members down
those gang members
are tough and mean
they are the toughest and meanest
gang members
on the rough side of town
Gus and I
are going to take
those gang members on
take them on
take them on
they aren't going to give
Gus and I
no knock out gong
no knock out gong
Gus and I
will have a retinue of punches
to plant on their noses
they'll be redder
than a bunch of roses
Gus and I
get aboard the bus
to go Stu's gym
we're learning
punching skills
off him
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
"where did all it start to go wrong,
when my doctor told me i didn't have long,
cancer treatments too **** expensive-
wife's in charge and I'm **** retentive,
can't get a job,can't get a loan,
maybe I can figure how to work from home?
My future's like Heisenberg,too uncertain,
provide for my family,before its curtains...
I'm a chemistry teacher and chemistry rules me,
but so many unknown's too easy to fool me,
but how can I do it?can't even guess,
unless,unless,I start to cook ****
Unless as a teacher I get someone to school me,
I know the principles(principals), just need the tools,see,
I can't tell my wife-can't tell my son,
that my stars burning out like a fading sun,
a trailer park cookout,will it be a mess,
first batch BITCH!(Jesse sample)total **** success,
but success in this business can lead to death,
p.e. number one,-Heisenberg of ****
Gotta deal with this psycho,name of Tuco,
might shake your hand,cut your throat or shoot you,
I was a 9 to 5 loser-happy teaching chemistry,
now I deal in in death,spreading pain and misery,
My partners a junkie,my wife doesn't get-
That I'm like a medical examiner,surrounded by death,
Jesus Jesse you're a pane in my ***
it's looking clear to me,you're too fond of the glass,
mirror mirror,where's the fairest price for us?,
I've heard of this one guy,name of Gus...
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
matt’s hats tom’s tools & tobacco lou’s liquors fred’s beds dale's doors frank’s planks bill’s drills jane’s drains & panes chuck’s check cashing cheryl’s barrels hank’s tanks tina’s trucks & tractors walt’s asphalt sean’s pawn rick’s rifles mom’s guns terry’s tires charlie’s harleys rhonda’s hondas jim’s rims art’s parts gus’s gas mike’s bikes frank’s feed gwen’s pens ann’s cans nancy’s nursery joes‘s clothes jess’s dresses bert’s skirts steve’s sleeves paul’s shawls michelle’s shells & bells al’s pails & snails sam’s hams & jams patty’s pancakes phil’s chili don’s donuts betty’s spaghetti bob’s burgers alycia’s quiches jean’s beans jerry’s berries anna’s bananas andy’s candies cathy’s taffies tony’s ponies roy’s toys ron’s batons kim’s whims marty’s parties jill’s pills rick’s tricks alice’s palace debbie’s disposal dave’s graves
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 5:53 AM UTC
**** Romeo and Juliet
***** Kat and Peeta as well
I don't care about Tris and Four
Hazel and Gus can go to hell.
I don't want to be your Juliet
Don't be my Romeo, I beg of you
If you can be my Okabe
For you I'll be Kurisu
Or maybe I'll be Winry
And you can be my Ed
Not that shiny fairy
The Alchemist, I meant.
See Okabe-Kurisu
And Winry-Elric too
They have a love that's strongest
And one I want with you.
**** Romeo and Juliet
I really can't stand Gus
Tris is a just a little *****
And so I hate them thus.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 7:53 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
Perched on the plank seat
of the old wagon
the dusty man gently jiggles the reins
of his reliable old steeds,
they as resolved as he
to reach Archer City
to get booked up.
Larry was there with his white hair
whittling his latest creation,
an overweight manuscript
sure to cause a sensation
no matter its heft.
They sat together talking
til the fireflies flew,
shared stories of books
loves, and good bass hooks,
reaching down to fetch a fresh brew
when they got parched
which was frequent
as they spoke at length
of men like Woodrow and Gus,
how they cussed,
poked, and stretched yarn after yarn.
Larry’s gone to the barn
but the guy who pulled up
in that old wagon
still is reading
and yet yearns
to revisit Texas lakes
to fish bass,
visit the local café,
and eat a passel of pancakes
or a big, tasty chicken fried steak.
Jun 18, 2022
Jun 18, 2022 at 1:31 AM UTC
Various disorders divide the dimensional drift that separates you, from me. The telling tale of loss, regret and the missing links still bury truths. Truth is told because I’ve lost my hope. Persons call my name and shout out what they think. They make insecurities look pretty **** secure. All the while, my sweet tooth is out of sync. And my internal combustion radiator is radiating harmful soliloquies. “I still beg of thee, he who hears my prayers. It’s been bout half a century, and I have yet to pray but give me strength where it is not.”
See?!
Anyways, feelings of retribution will come a forward day. Tantric beginnings fold under pressure and again we find our futures. Oh and by the by, the only thing who saw the crime was about eight inches tall and blind. Punch drunk and sucker punched, what will us suckers find? A fetching question for the ultra pressure.
-Gus
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
We Three Guys (We Three Kings)
by Roger Turner on Thursday, 11 August 2011 at 17:20 ·
We're 3 guys who ride on the bus
Please take a good look at us
We have no home, or a cell phone
There's Me and Bob and Gus
Chorus
Sally Ann will take you in
Eat off plates that look like tin
There's no fear there, and there's cheer there
Please may we 3 come in
All we have we wear on our backs
We don't have to pay income tax
It's not funny, we've no money
Yes, these are all the sad facts
(CHORUS)
I once used to have a good job
Now I dress myself like a slob
I'm a good dude, though I look rude
Greetings, my name is Bob
(Chorus)
We don't want for you to feel shame
There is no one for you to blame
Folks ignore us, some abhor us
We look at them the same
(Chorus)
I am Gus and I'm not well off
Lately, I've developed a cough
Could be TB, may just **** me
Then I'd be better off
(Chorus)
I am Paul, and these are my friends
Our good will to you we will send
Come and join us, riding our bus
Riding it Till the end.
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
The glamorous are gangrenous thieves
Distracting whilst the govern steal Liberty
Popsicle mushrooms 5 o'clock news and beer
Lies clear as the Rays of Day's shine
served like cheap red wine with a side of fear.
Seize your own freedom Shun the sun
Abandoned Divine Dismay
Race the tick of the tock
Watch your sanity fray
Hop on one of the slimeways
ye 'ole snail
left trekked along
across the Highway
Humming it's long low slow song
sung, in rhythm with a thousand toothed tongue, out of tune
Forever dragging along the crazy round home of a loon.
The wild yonder awaits Tecciztecatl's return
Saliva soaked foot pushes off
this road of hellish burns
The blue openly longingly yearns
for that moment not too soon
as shade befell
the conscious snail fully aware wanes into it's cognitive shell
His cocooned spiraled tomb
Hung high again as the moon
Shedding light on the treacherous troubles we're in
until the sun comes back 'round to illume again
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 11:51 AM UTC
Torn away from his two loving parents,
And put on display in a zoo,.
Gus suffered from chronic depression
A white bear with black moods, sad but true.
He’d swim figure eight’s by the hour,
as if stuck in a Mobius strip.
Zoo officials called it a neurosis
But were worried their bear just might flip.
A consultant said Gus had depression
And collect a munificent fee.
Gus would be treated with Prozac
And be as happy a bear as can be.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
The gravel crunches
as we walk
and it's cold.
We push our breaths out
of chapped lips, and wipe
away dried spit, with nicotine
fingers.
Pigeon feels the baggies in his pockets
full of vicodin,
that's gonna get us ****** up.
His fingers look like earthworms through his jeans
as he gropes for the baggy.
I get that jolt, just thinking about it;
that jolt of happiness you feel right before you get
real ****** up.
I look around and pull out a Camel Light,
because that's all we smoke.
And light up. It's real
white out, white and cold.
The moon's fat as a snowflake
and foggy up there too.
I move my toes,
and can't feel a thing,
****
We crunch through the woods,
catching glimpses of the moon, and the lake
through the trees.
I want to hit this fifth of Henny
jerking in my backpocket,
but I'm saving it.
Pigeon stops.
Me and Gus keep walking.
Pigeon coos.
We turn around.
He whips out the plastic baggy,
In the moonlight the Vicodins look
like those tiny, candy skulls you get on halloween.
Feb 18, 2012
Feb 18, 2012 at 1:08 PM UTC
Such a trip this is
Together on this tour
Heartily I toil
For this is no great chore
But I ensconce away
Once the grouches
***** their inveighs
Safe from fools abrades
with no thought
and little aide
My pencil strokes are laid
So heavenly on the page
It tells us not to run
Stand against the shadow
let it not dislimn the Sun
The Machine The Machine The Machine
It gobbles away all our fun
Gus
My skin be-jeweled
In this prizm Lake
Just be here
- Don't be fake
Don't loose your love
in daft's wake
Let loose your love
Eyes wide
awake
No rush
I'm cool
Out here floating
in this pool
Dust just scatters
its own way
I'll be here
just swimming
Cleansed n Sane
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 9:47 PM UTC
as he sat soft beside me.
“Sure,” I said, with ill feeling.
My instinct was not to cross my friend,
I had too few left.
I nodded to the Ape behind the bar and he obliged
with one lemon & ginger and one green tea.
He knows his regulars well
and we know we’d need to wait til later for anything stronger.
“Look,” he said, and I turned to see
a gap and I counted the two teeth that were missing -
no, not missing - he opened his hand
and there they were, both accounted for,
safe and secure in his grey leathery palm.
“Look,” he repeated, (a little slurred this time)
and turned his fist so I could see
the missing skin and the bruises
that gave testimony to his amateur status.
His ****** grin and wet laughter
shook the silverback back into action
and we got a plate of malted milks.
Like I say, he knows his regulars well
and he’d listened when I told him
where he could get a regular supply,
direct from Staffordshire, in the UK.
“Lo-ok,” he said (more hesitant this time)
and lifted his shirt a little to reveal the knife wound,
replete with knife, buried to the hilt.
“Loo-,“ he started to say, as he slid off the bar stool
taking his tea with him, the porcelain shattering on the stone floor.
I winced – the cups had been a gift
to the Ape from my mother.
‘Why should the chimps get all the best crockery?’ she’d explained.
“I’ll pay for the breakage,” I said
and the Ape nodded his furrowed brow
as he swung round to grab the dustpan and mop.
I drank my tea,
counting off the friends that remained.
Mar 2, 2024
Mar 2, 2024 at 1:25 PM UTC
She was definitely dumping him
All she needed was the right opportunity
It was like that song
Fifty ways to leave your lover
Now just to get it through to him
You’re crap in the sack Jack
If only you were more like Stan
What a man
Or even Gus
Though you do have a lot in common with Gus
You always go by bus
God, you’re so last year
Out on your ear
Okay maybe that was a bit severe
Need a new plan
I’m just going to tell you straight
Before it’s too late
Don't come on all coy
There's something I have to tell you
It's about me and Roy
I’m having his boy
I know what you’re going to say
What happened to Lee
Let me see
It started on the bus
Him and Gus
I don’t want to discuss
Okay, well Stan caught them
Do I need to spell it out
Stan said they were all like brothers
Now it seems they two are lovers
Stan was devastated
I mean, was that in the plan
Anyway, Roy told him about us
Which was fatal for you and Gus
When the driver braked
Driving the bus
Stan no more
So I end this letter
Missing you Jack
Such a young age to leave
Just turned fifty, lover.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
there is some
uninvited thing
living in our kitchen
gus the little greycat
waged a hissing yowling
war against it at 3am
to no avail
and now sits as sentry
eyes intent.
as i walk past
his snipers position
at the fridge
desperate for coffee.
i know i will
have to don
rubber gloved armour
and go on a recon mission placing snares and bombs but an army of me
needs coffee
to face the tiny terror
in the tupperware.....
and at least
a few more hours sleep.
.....hold your position
sgt guscat.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
Gusto kitang isayaw ng mabagal.
Gusto kitang isayaw.
Gusto kita.
Gus—
Gusto kong ibaling ang pagtingin ko sa iba,
Pero bakit kahit na pilitin kong okupahin ang malaking parte
ng oras para kalimutan ka,
Hindi ko mapanindigan?
Bakit patuloy ka pa ring bumabalik at nangungulit sa isipan;
Kung alam mo namang madalas akong umaaasang baka sakali,
May maganda tayong patutunguhan?
Paano ko magagawang makalayo sa lungkot,
Kung simpleng alaala mo,hindi ko magawang malimot?
Dumarating ka sa oras ng katahimikan—
Dumadalaw sa mga panahon ng pag-iisa,
Dinadamayan ang sakit ng luhaan kong mata;
Bumabalik-balik at sumisilip-silip,
para iparamdam ang presensiya ng pag-ibig na kailanma'y hindi masusuklian~
Gusto kitang isayaw ng mabagal,
Sa saliw ng paborito kong musika,
Sa tugtog na gigising sa'kin, magpapa-alala:
•Pagmamay-ari ka ng iba,
Gusto kitang isayaw ng mabagal—
Hanggang sa hindi matapos na tugtugin;
Hanggang sa magawa ko ng pilitin,
ang tadhana~
Na ibigay ka nalang sa akin,
Gusto kita ng isayaw ng mabagal.
Gusto kitang isayaw.
Gusto kita.
Gus—
Tama na.
Husto na.
Gustuhin ko man na mapasa'kin ka,
Wala akong magagawa.
Kaya sige.
Tatanawin nalang kita.
Hihiling na sana minsan, maisayaw kita—
Sa saliw ng paborito kong musika;
Sa tugtog na patuloy sa'king magpapa-alala,
Kaibigan lang dapat kita
At pagmamay-ari ka ng iba.
Gusto kitang isayaw ng mabagal.
Gusto kitang isayaw.
Gusto kita.
Hindi magbabago kahit nakatadhana ka sa iba.
Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 10:23 PM UTC
Have you heard of Gus?
Probably not.
He’s a street cleaner, you see.
On the other side of town, where no one actually lives
Except crumbling houses and rusted mailboxes
And ghosts, if you believe in that kind of thing.
They must’ve stopped paying him years ago
When his job was no longer needed
‘Cause people were moving away from those parts
To the city, where creativity is a corpse under pavement.
So Gus works alone on the streets,
Sometimes I see him if I pass through the park.
Just cleaning away without a care in the world,
His companions a broom, clippers, a bucket, a sponge,
Whistling old folk songs to himself
As he sweeps up the sidewalks and pulls all the weeds,
Tames the wild lawns that nobody owns,
And cleans the windows with every ounce of his being,
Looking in, and never looking out.
And sometimes he just stands there, staring
At his reflection in the sparkling glass
Just adjusts his rugged uniform, 20 years out of date, sometimes picks at his teeth
Or something.
Sometimes I wonder why he does what he does,
It makes me angry to see him waste away his days
It’s like a symphony played to deaf ears
Or a sonnet written to the blind
It’s like rain on a parking lot,
It’s not helping anything to grow.
It’s just there, just there, nothing more.
I want to yell to him, to tell him to get a real job
To just trash that uniform, the supplies, just move on.
But still he remains, his whistling breaking
The silence of a street left to rot.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC
By: David W. Clare
Country Hicks are my kinda folk
Getting drunk, we likes to joke
Moonshine an' whiskey, outlawed still?
Jack and Jill, kissed up the hill...
Shotgun weddin', down by the lake
Women folk rustling, baba queing up some steak
Pork spare ribs and a catfish bake...
Huckleberry cousins can't read nor write!
Uncle Gus, gettin' drunk, he likes to fight all night!
Here come more kin, from way down south
Riding a horse, wild dogs a barking, foamin' at the mouth...
Shotgun Weddin' wavin' bye bye, all stood 'round, broke down and cry...
(C) in perpetuity all reserved by the author
(P) FilmNoirWorks
--
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 10:53 PM UTC