"hendricks" poems
The Viet Nam era was a witches brew.Mission creep in Saigon
The evening news brought the ****** trips stumbling into
my TV dinner, kicking over my Tang.
Bouncing Betty went bang
Beans and ***** out the can.
Guys in my age bracket knew it was safe cause 18 was the magic Number.
RESPECT
Simon and Garfunkel ,The godfather of soul.
What we.
Had Here.
Was.
Failure to Communicate.
We were reaching for the stars with one hand and
squeezing of rounds with the other. Bobby was in the crossfire
Martin would retire,
I remember.
Guys slinking back home with broken minds
Baby killers all. No love ,No jobs. COMBAT FATIGUE. PTSD Came later.
Got a monster habit, Nose running of like a racetrack rabbit.
Oh yeah Asian Strain Gonorrhea.
Penicillin
Penishmillin. WTF
Hendricks.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 3:25 AM UTC
I'm a rockin
I'm a rollin
I'm a twisting
I'm a turning
Can't get you out of my mind
It all started so slow
No smoking at the bar
Hendricks and juice
watching the show
You danced on by me
with someone I didn't know
Eye contact
The games between us begun
Now all night long
reliving our moves
Still hallucinating you next to me
Your eyes, they penetrated my skin
Your eyes they
hypnotized my mind
Agitation
Fascination
But of course you left with him
There's a scent in the air
I'm feeling your presence
everywhere
My mind is on fire
My body is too
there is a longing desire
Not ready to forget you
I'm hugging my pillow
my sheets
they are burning
I'm rockin
I'm rollin
I'm twisting
I'm turning
Can't get you out of my mind
I'm not going to even try to.
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 2:18 PM UTC
Histina Chrendricks
Retices Milericks
Bakcwards
But none of them
Are pereatable in buplic
Till trime tavel
becomes moccercially alaivable.
Can't wait for the piobic
Or even just a Touyube plic.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC
playing outside
in the frozen air
we didn't know
what we were
doing
didn't know
where we were
going
You grew so
beautiful
I beheld you
there
saw your face from a
far
You had forgotten
I was alive
just a wild poet
you had written off
a playmate, from your childhood days
as you
moved on your way
through your rich and seedy
days
your mind
your look
your talents
moved you through
to what you thought
you knew
you wanted.
We were both still
so free
I had fallen deep
into the blues
I spent far too much
time far too confused
while you walked
on water according
to the news.
You were playing Reno
on a cold winter's
night,
much later
at a backwaters bar
called "Night Times
Delight"
I walked in
you walked in
childhood grins
over Hendricks
gin
hands touched once
lips touched twice
we danced out there
on that
night
we were just
children there
playing outside
in the frozen
air,
Body heat
creating steam.
Maybe it was
just the gin
fingers touched
you went
your way
fingers touched
we went our ways
childhood answers
on a winter's day
It's hard every once
in a while not to
see your name
the only place I
come your way
is in your deepest
dreams of childhoods
refrain
laughing outside
in the frozen winds
two melting snow
angels are all
that remains.
For you I'll always
be there
For me I'll be
someone who cared
we'll be an aging memory
in this bond
across our time
in the ether
we'll play our lines
and in our dreams
it'll always be
and in our dreams
we will always see
a childhoods
winter sky
alive.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
It was the summer of love,
at least that's what they said.
There were guys with long
hair and beards and beads,
with wide trousers, and loud
shirts, and girls with long
hair, and dresses like nuns,
or short skirts, showing off
their not so good legs or thighs.
There was Hendricks, Beatles
and Stones and playing, music
loud, live. Julie was out for
the day; the hospital quacks,
giving her a day pass, no
shooting up, no pill popping.
She met Ben in Trafalgar
Square, tight skirt and top,
hair held in a ponytail, bright
eyed, big smile. He was
by the fountains having a
smoke, eyeing the girls,
listening to some long
haired guy strum a guitar,
his skinny girlfriend doing
a dance, her bony legs
looking breakable, ****
non existent. Been here
long? Julie said. No, just
a few moments, he lied,
not wanting to give her
reasons to moan or row.
She wanted to go for a beer.
So he took her to the bar
off Charing Cross Road
and ordered two cold beers
and lit up some smokes.
She spoke of some nurse
who almost lost her her pass,
all about some **** up, over
drugs, she’d forgotten to take.
She said the quacks were ok
with it, the tall one is hot,
she said, shouldn’t mind him
poking around in my parlour.
He told her about the Charles
Lloyd jazz album he'd bought,
how he'd met him outside Dobell's,
got a sign copy of the new L.P.
She drained her drink and he
ordered another two, she took
one of his smokes and lit up
and sat back, crossing her legs,
her black short skirt riding her
thighs, ******* in his eyes.
No place for *** she said,
unless you know of a bed
and room going cheap for
an hour or so? No luck,
he said, wishing he did,
remembering the fast shaft,
the quickie in the hospital
broom room, amidst brooms
and brushes and buckets
or boxes and all. She said
her parents rang, and they
argued, and she slammed
down the phone. They said
it was the summer of love,
but where they sat, boozing
and smoking, it fell pretty flat.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 2:41 PM UTC
The fragrance of a rose can change the direction of history
and if you do not recognise the unique power of a flower
look back to Woodstock, and listen to Jimmy Hendricks
playing "All Along The Watchtower " wearing his flowered shirt.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
My grandfather never lived to see Bryant and Rizzo play.
The Cubs won last back in 0- eight which was before his day.
His lifelong love of baseball he passed on down to me
I took up his forlorn cause as mine each time I watched them play.
For sixty seven summers I have watched Cubs come and go;
seen good team fade in summer’s heat, adding to our goat- cursed woe.
I’ve seen them jinxed by black cats in the summer of sixty nine.
Watched Bartman wreck our changes;, what will it be this time?
Now they looked nearly down and out; shut out by the Tribes’ fine Corps
But they got up off the canvas and began to hit and score.
The Series now was tied at three, could my heroes count to four?
Our manager’s moves were questionable; I don’t care what you say.
He shouldn’t have taken Hendricks out (and let Baez swing away)
I sat through anxious innings and through the rain delay.
That’s when this old agnostic got down on his knees to pray.
They won it Eight to seven, Bryant made the final play.
My heart is filled with a nameless joy as Someday is today!
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC
Life is a lot like a painting
The effort and detail you put into the stroke of the brush
Is the beauty you will see when it is hung in its final gallery
-Tawfeeq Hendricks
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 4:47 PM UTC
Roses are red
My sweater vest's blue
Hendricks no longer has access
To movies on Hulu
Oct 12, 2022
Oct 12, 2022 at 9:39 PM UTC