"keg" poems
On Saturday mornings it always was the same
my Nan would say come Chris we are going down the lane
I would fret want to go to the bathroom but she'd drag me out again
knowing what a powder keg she was and thought her rather insane
It did not matter how big they were she had ***** of steel
if someone crossed her path they would come off ill
I was mortified by her temper, my word but she was strong
I have seen her throw hard men right over my head and they were gone
Now at this not so tender age I am
now I understand who I am
just another dangerous creature
like my sweet old Nan
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 12:20 PM UTC
Let me tell you about something I saw the other day,
when I was out walking through a field of hay.
The night was quite pretty, the air crisp and clear,
when I suddenly encountered a cat who was drinking a beer!
I walked a little farther and encountered some mice,
sitting around a card table, all playing dice.
The mice looked quite serious, they all dressed like thugs,
I was dumbfounded, and simply stared down from above.
Then I saw something that completely blew my mind,
it was a variety of animals, dancing in a conga line.
For hours and hours and hours they danced,
more animals joined in, even deer came to prance.
This party was larger than any I’d seen,
a couple of badgers were even smoking something green.
“Innocent” deer were snorting lines off of snakes,
and a couple drunk farm dogs were fighting with rakes.
A cat and a mouse were sitting in a barn,
entirely too drunk, they took turn telling yarns.
From across the field, you could hear an owl retch,
while a gaggle of geese slurred “Benny and the Jets.”
Sheep laughed, “Bahaha!” while dancing on tables,
the horses were getting it on in the stables.
This party was crazier than any I’d attended,
a pig even ended up losing an appendage.
As the sun came up, things started winding down,
all the cows went home, and the "Keg King" took off his crown.
I took this as my cue, it was time to depart,
so a couple mice and I hitched a ride on a farmer’s cart.
"Sayonara!" I yelled, "It's been lots of fun!
Everybody get home safe, try not to hurt anyone!"
But enough about me, let's talk about you.
That was my weekend, what did you do?
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 11:55 PM UTC
Trump invades Nicaragua;
lights a powder keg to the
relief of everyone; let's get
on w/ it; change the world;
otherwise Nicaragua threatens
to become another Syria w/
Sandanista vs. Sandanista &
drug lords & communists;
mercenaries; contractors
& experimental weapons;
welcome to a world that is torn
completely in two to everyone's
relief for the sheer catharsis;
that is what frenzied freedom
looks & feels like; touches like,
smells like, ***** & eats like;
the madman in the marketplace
is the last person who can spell
Bourgeoisie & Ancien Régime;
Disestablishmentarianism &
Nouveau riche; time & technology
will turn the soil of psychology
churning up some never before
seen creature; mankind is suicidal;
this new Being will have no such
concept; coming in & out existence
like walking through a door; time
is meaningless running in countless
waves in all directions; space is
flexible like clay; women & men
create each other to the limits of their
imagination; Newton laid the foundation
& Einstein painted the ceiling; Pascal,
Hawking; Leibniz & Nietzsche & every
poet that ever lived or never lived; every
celestial siren & songstress who whispered
in a magical scribe's ear & he scratched
the miles & hours & places & people there;
thus, it began somewhere far out in space;
but they've been there all along; peaceful,
loving, able to shape-shift to perform
pleasurable functions in accordance w/
mankind's selfish wishes; mankind thinking
it's putting one over on the new species,
still finds itself bogged down in Nicaragua
long after Trump has built his Presidential
Library & joined the aliens like everyone
else; the poor Nicaraguans & Guatemalans
& Hondurans fighting it out to the death;
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
i.
She's beautiful. She's an angel. She's everything we asked for. I cried for the hopes and dreams of a future that was never mine. I didn't know any better, so I kept crying.
xiv.
*You can't run around like before anymore. Don't get your knees ***** Elbows off the table. Grow up.* I brushed my hands of the dirt and picked myself up, because ladies weren't supposed to pick earthworms out of the grass. I picked up eyeliner instead.
xvi.
I'm trusting you. Don't get into trouble. Don't do anything dumb. There's something satisfying about hearing the roar of an engine at the start of a July evening. With the wind in your hair, freedom at your finger tips, I could have done anything. But I shut off the car and went inside.
xviii.
You're grown up now. You're an adult. You can't afford to make stupid mistakes anymore. I was composed of keg stands, one night stands, roommates, 2am Taco Bell runs, first dates, caffeine, prayers, tears, insecurities, heart to heart talks, "just try it, it's fun, I swear", friends that turn into bridesmaids, broken promises and broken hearts. I can still hear the train's whistle.
xxi.
I told you not to do anything dumb. I told you not to make stupid mistakes. I don't know what to tell you anymore. Here's a standing ovation to being immortal; hats off to the teary drunken nights and the existential crises. These are the days that we'll look back and wish we never wasted and I'll wonder why I let you wipe your muddy shoes on me.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 2:57 AM UTC
My wife, she likes those six pack abs
But me, I've got a keg
She can see that thing anytime she likes
And I won't even make her beg
I see myself as a muscle man
I workout everyday
Watching Tv with my plate on my belly
And putting that food away
My workout plan is a strenuous task
All I gotta do is eat
I know it works 'cause my belly keeps growing
Until I can't even see my feet
I go to the gym at least five times a day
Gym is the name of my fridge
There's so many ropes holding up my pants
'Til it looks like the brooklyn bridge
Yep, she really loves those six pack abs
And she says I'm shaped like an egg
It takes a very long time to look like this
So she better get used to the keg
Mar 29, 2011
Mar 29, 2011 at 11:20 AM UTC
Blast off the powder keg
One-two with the punches
Rope over your shoulder
Like I wanna reach the summit
Maybe you let loose before
But, honey, I ain't seen it yet
But, baby, I'm scared to like
Messin your perfect face, displacing
Your innocence and makin
Our blankets wet
I said I don't wanna blast
But you got the controller
Got that hold and doin it right
Got my ***** **** my Xbone
On lock on this *** throne
Pop your mouth a minute girl
Base to the tip that ****
Is rocket sauce
Blast off the powder keg
One-two with the punches
Rope over your shoulder
Like I wanna reach the summit
Maybe you let loose before
But, honey, I ain't seen it yet
Maybe this night is the best
Night of my life I lick my
***** off your skin, sleep
Tight, tomorrow I'll breathe
***** breath
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 3:54 AM UTC
A DEATH CREATES A DECEMBER/OCTOBER TWIN BIRTH WITH RAY POCOCK’S LIFE FOLLOWING HIS TRAGIC NEXT LIFE’S DEATH
YOU SEE ROBERT KINOSHITA, TURNS 100, AND GOES UP TO SATURN TO
DO A FEW ROBOT DANCES, AND INVENTS THIS LITTLE SONG
I AM THE GREATEST, I MADE A FAMOUS ROBOT
IT WAS IN A GREAT GREAT SHOW TITLED LOST IN SPACE
I WANTED TO LIVE FOREVER, BUT I EVENTUALLY KICKED THE BUCKET
BUT I LIVED TO BE 100, TO SAY I DID THE ROBOT DANCE
I DID THE ROBOT DANCE, SAYING
I AM A ROBOT, I AM A ROBOT, MY WAY IS COMING TRUE THROUGHOUT THE LAND
I AM A ROBOT EVERY SINGLE DAY
I CREATED ROBOT B-9, HE WAS FAMOUS FOR SAYING
DANGER WILL ROBINSON DANGER WILL ROBINSON DANGER WILL ROBINSON
AND THEN SAID, I AM A ROBOT, I AM A ROBOT,
I AM COMING TO EXTERMINATE YOU, I AM A ROBOT FOREVER AND EVER
AND THEN AS I GET OFF STAGE I TIP A KEG OF METHANE ALL OVER RAY POCOCK
TO SAY, LET’S MAKE TWINS IN OCTOBER, WELL LET’S MAKE THEM DUE IN OCTOBER ANYWAY
AND ROBERT AND RAY SAID WE ARE PERFECT ROBOTS
WE WILL CREATE NEW LIFE, IN OCTOBER, OH YEAH
RAY HAS NO IDEA, EITHER HAS ROBERT, BUT THEY BOTH SAID WE ARE ROBOTS
AND DANGER, IF WE LET THE TERRORISTS WIN
WE ARE CRONUS’S, EMBASSADORS, I AM CRONUS
I AM THE ONE IN THE FAMILY, WHO LIKES IMAGINATIVE ROBOTS
AND WE DANCE, WE ARE BIG ROBOTS, WE ARE BIG ROBOTS
WE HAVE COME TO ESTERMINATE YOU GUYS IF YA COME TO CLOSE
DANGER WILL ROBINSON, DANGER WILL ROBINSON
THERE WILL BE DANGER IF ROBERT AND RAY SEPERATE, CAUSE
THEY ARE JOINED TO PROTECT THE EARTH, AND BRING PROPER ROBOTS BACK
WE WANT HELPFUL ROBOTS WE WANT HELPFUL ROBOTS
WE WILL GET THEM NOW, ROBERT KINOSHITA TIP METHANE ALL OVER BARRY ALLAN
CAUSE, HE WON’T EXCEPT HE IS NOW ELIZABETH ANN CAMPBELL
DANGER BARRY ALLAN ROBERT SAID IF YOU GET THIS YOUR LIKE ME AND MUMMY CRAP OUT OF YOUR SONS
DANGER AHEAD, TO OLD HAGS WE ARE BIG ROBOTS, AND WE WILL STAY BIG ROBOTS FOREVER
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 3:08 AM UTC
I Asked the professors who teach the meaning of life to tell
me what is happiness.
And I went to famous executives who boss the work of
thousands of men.
They all shook their heads and gave me a smile as though
I was trying to fool with them
And then one Sunday afternoon I wandered out along
the Desplaines river
And I saw a crowd of Hungarians under the trees with
their women and children and a keg of beer and an
accordion.
3.8k
hello hello hello
what have we got here
a few ships assembling
with highly explosive
gear
hello hello hello
who shall fire the first shot
into the Syrian
plot
hello hello hello
America and Russia
are on opposing sides
the gulf in their opinions
very wide
hello hello hello
the world
shall see a drama
most potent
others in
the Middle Eastern
corridor
may get
involved too
that will be a show
which may mean
a powder keg
that can't be
subdued
hello hello hello
why have men
in power
always had a yen
to be war faring
and not think
of their fellow
men women and children
hello hello hello
this time the lesson
may come at an extremely high cost
for it may well
bring end
to all existence
on the planet
as we know it....
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 9:03 PM UTC
Fireworks were cool. Framed metal chairs with woven nylon Americana on watered lawns on the outskirts of the edge of Los Angeles. Hairy neighbors, Miller Drafts and dog **** Sally ****** Jim on the corner, and Jim drank, or started again and wouldn’t stop, but was good with a flat tire and chain adjustment. His kid had a glove like a vacuum. His daughter was a ***** Sally afforded a Mexican gardener.
Tim always had fireworks. He had gasoline and willed fireworks into his driveway. He had rope and a keg.
Schatzky keep her cool. She had to. She worked the 5th and taught everyone’s kids. She taught their parents too, 10 years ago.
Her son Donavan and her husband Keith lived for the 4th. Little pink houses and Jack and Diane kind of **** So they watched fireworks on flag hill while their neighbors ****** and got ********* and burnt their eyebrows. Donavan was ecstatic.
Each year the hill was gilded in gold for Donavan and Keith and and Schatzky, because each 4th brought fire and explosives in a way they could never afford.
Keith was more patriotic than most. He waited and enlisted and became a hero. Donavan watched on TV. Schatzky watched too. We won the first gulf war and everyone knew it: https://youtu.be/4gNhs2SRacs?t=1m10...
They celebrated the fourth in baseball stadiums. They celebrated life and heroism and purpose, and they celebrated with F16s and the best explosives the peacetime nation offered.
And Keith celebrated and embraced purpose. He even became a leader in the 2nd gulf war.
Sally stopped ******* Jim. Jim wasn’t married anymore. His kid lowered Tim’s basement and didn’t steal the copper.
Tim’s house was worth a fortune but it had a radon problem.
Schatsky was accused of drowning her dog, but she didn’t do it.
Jim still drinks; he’s smarter now.
They all meet on flag hill every 4th. The fireworks aren’t as good. A lot of build up for a finale that feels like an accident.
Water seeps through my jeans and no one can see my face as I limp home with a broken rubber sandal and a bucket of ice, a dog tied around my legs, and a kid face first on the grass, a wife whose friend drank our last beer an hour ago, a phone with two-percent battery left and my mom wants to show me what fireworks look like in California.
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 2:12 AM UTC
His eyes are as cold as the winter breezes
I try my best to cave through but everything freezes
"Let me in!", I beg
But he's too drunk within his emotions in a bottle of keg
His walls are up again
With emotions scarred into his skin with the markings of a pen
Tears well up in his eyes
He tells me goodnight
"No! No!", I scream
But the darkness consumed him as it seemed
I too, got ****** into his darkness
Now I knew, he was my fatal nightmare chasing me in my dreams.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 4:05 AM UTC
It takes courage to be born in a grave
where the earthworms caress
and the night is like day.
But where two or three are gathered
they will burrow deeper yet,
pressing the earth to their faces.
It takes gall to bite the mouth that eats you,
little rocket ships
who never left the ground.
Launch your cultured pungent taste,
for if you must go,
go loudly.
Daikon, Cherry Belle, Easter Egg,
Black Spanish, Red King,
you are conquerers.
Digging away until the sun comes to find you,
blushing in myriad shades
of fearless ambition.
It takes integrity to never leave your roots.
Break bold and crisp,
candied keg of gunpowder.
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 10:09 PM UTC
I didn’t see it coming,
It wasn’t set on my nightly planner.
4 sober hours ago seem so far away now.
On my left hand,
cherry red lipstick smug stains shows memories of a forgotten night that I’ll always have to regret.
See, I only wish it was lipstick.
Truthfully, I know that 2 hours and a 5th of ***** earlier I was all to worried about which girl I want to take home.
Stumble 1 drunken hour later,
keg stands and **** rips have me defying gravity and federal law.
My beer googles are activated,
I’m captivated with the idea of driving.
30 smashed minutes forward,
I finally reach the forbidden fruit with
2
beautiful blonde blue-eyed babes.
Tumbling into our seats,
we were invincible.
Plastering our way forward through empty roads and city streets,
I’m reminiscent on stop signs and brake lights.
I hear cherry red lips speak sensual words into my ear,
whispers of achieving my goal.
It’s stated eyes are windows to the soul,
this is true because I could see it in the reflection of pupils,
a single tree along with it.
I turn my beer goggles quick enough to see this wasn’t a tanked-up nightmare but,
the bark of a beast that makes no noise.
I saw 2 beautiful blonde blue-eyed girls fly threw my windshield,
I wonder what their moms will say.
I got wrecked to wreck the lives of not only myself but
of entire families and lives
that weren’t even created yet.
I’ll never know the wonders I killed,
the hopes I stabbed,
the dreams I cut down deeply into their veins and watched them bleed out.
30 somber minutes I spent finding nothing else to blame,
it’s all on me,
I was the drunk judge, jury and executioner.
Now, I look to my left hand,
wishing 4 sober hours ago,
I could’ve saw it coming.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 10:41 PM UTC
burned skin
charred eyes
mangled bones
patience running thin
granite legs
made to fall
dusty gray matter
inside the keg
wanting to rise,
wanting to drown
what difference would it make?
as a man he lay still
as a lover he goes still
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 9:26 AM UTC
I get home.
tired and hungry and so sick of school
shoulders slouch with comfort, crossing the threshold
between the public and my home.
It's snack time.
open the fridge and what do I find?
what marvelous things, upon which to dine?
a leg of chicken and a big *** of beans,
say what you will, moms can be queens
I chop up an onion splash! in the pan
a dollop of oil [extra ****** man]
add half a pepper, minus its seeds
yum! I think I know what this needs
A large pinch of cumin, a whole chicken leg
and so many beans, if beer twould be keg
then add some turmeric for fusion and flair
splash of red wine, kids: we're almost there!
I check in the freezer and Yes! I was right!
almost a dozen tortillas in sight.
I take out two, cuz they're pretty big
I yodel with pleasure, as if at a shindig
warm up the flatbreadz, and pile it on
all of that chicken and beans and herbs from the lawn
get in my tummy, get in there so fast
that I dont realize I'm eating until I'm holding the last.
Jan 6, 2011
Jan 6, 2011 at 8:23 PM UTC
What I miss most
about you
is those
hidden powder keg stand
salmon net blood stained
scaffold pirate rigging
crumpled roof
dense smoke cloud cabin
dangerous flirtatious biker bar taunting
staggering pool playing
yellow and black liquid haze
full on sensory assault
adventures
we both knew
would never last
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
Progress
by Michael R. Burch
There is no sense of urgency
at the local Burger King.
Birds and squirrels squabble outside
for the last scraps of autumn:
remnants of buns,
goopy pulps of dill pickles,
mucousy lettuce,
sesame seeds.
Inside, the workers all move
with the same très-glamorous lethargy,
conserving their energy, one assumes,
for more pressing endeavors: concerts and proms,
pep rallies, keg parties,
reruns of Jenny McCarthy on MTV.
The manager, as usual, is on the phone,
talking to her boyfriend.
She gently smiles,
brushing back wisps of insouciant hair,
ready for the cover of Glamour or Vogue.
Through her filmy white blouse
an indiscreet strap
suspends a lace cup
through which somehow the ****** still shows.
Progress, we guess, ...
and wait patiently in line,
hoping the Pokémons hold out.
NOTE: This poem is almost entirely fiction. There was a Pokemon craze when my son Jeremy was a little boy, and I did see birds and squirrels foraging in parking lots from time to time (and sometimes fed them myself from my car’s window), but everything else is fiction. On the rare occasions that I went to a Burger King, I would go through the drive-in, so I wouldn’t have known who the manager was, or how much time ***** spent on the phone. I think the poem probably started with the image of birds and squirrels squabbling for scraps of food in a parking lot as I waited in a line of slow-moving cars, then evolved as I imagined the hassle of going inside to “speed things up.” Keywords/Tags: America, Americana, American, culture, society, vanity, youth, progress, fast food, video games, Pokemon, MTV, music videos, glamour, models, supermodels, fashion, transparency, see-through, bra, breast, *******
Apr 30, 2020
Apr 30, 2020 at 9:43 PM UTC
In my homeland I would sit and drink wine
I would look out over the coast, drink espresso in cafes, walk in mircowedges over cobblestone streets in tight brown pants and beautiful coats.
I would cook and bake and love and read and write, i would kiss my Nonna's cheek and speak with my hands.
But...
This is not my homeland and I do not drink wine
I drink beer from a keg, starbucks with pumpkin, and the coffee here is drunk sitting down.
I don't look over a coast but a concrete jungle of noise and smells that aren't fragrant or delicious
there is no kitchen for me to cook in my dorm and i wear nike shorts and bean boots and i feel this life is not a grand one
My homeland is not this place and indeed, nothing like this place and for that, i am grateful
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
Snow football
I lived in western New York when I was a kid.
We want to play football most of the time.
So we started this thing called snow football.
On Jan 14th, we would get together for my birthday.
We would take a keg of beer to the football field.
Then the game would start. Snow to our knees
We would try to run.
The first team to get to the goal. Would get to drink beer first.
By the time it got dark. There was little snow on the ground. We would slide
Or get buried in the snow.
But the beer was cold and we enjoyed our game of snow football.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 4:28 PM UTC
i am dripping wet, sitting on your lap after the keg party.
i bounce off of you as you bounce off of the seat.
"is your **** bleeding?"
we laugh.
we are soaked.
i am soaked; so now you are, after trying so hard to dry.
we were naked together, all of us, but especially 'us'.
we were drinking whisky, canadian.
and generic cola to match.
cigarettes we rolled ourselves.
and after i told you about my parents waking me up in the middle of the night when it was pouring, you said, "let's go smoke a cigarette on the back porch".
let's walk in the rain for the next hour, the next decade, the next century, the next forever, infinity.
"cheers, this is beautiful"
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 3:28 AM UTC
all eyes,
all on me,
all eyes,
hanging
all over me.
milk the silence.
fingertips trace the
splintered podium.
clear my throat,
once,
twice.
"We shoulduh' seen this coming."
great opener.
**"Our end was scored
by symphonies of sitcoms,
reality television, coffeehouse blenders,
and fanatical braking.
Our pride in resilience was the
spark that lit the powder keg.
Foreigners couldn't stop us,
for we stopped letting 'em in years ago.
Time couldn't stop us,
for our bodies are made of plastic,
and words don't dent us,
for our emotions are backed by
the most stubborn of metals.
We broke love when we were still young.
All us boys were aiming for quick fixes,
and all you girls were aiming for margarita mixes.
Ladies decided they wanted to nest around the
smoking age,
and if they were attractive enough,
us boys bit.
We all got divorced.
We all got into politics.
Some of us died for a country,
but none of us are sure why.
Some of us ran from debt,
some recorded folk songs on laptops,
some sexed their way out,
some drank themselves to death.
We shoulduh' seen this coming.
But we didn't, so that makes you and I, the idiots.
The smart ones had foresight,
and departed us early.
Now we idiots look to the murderous sky,
and wait."**
all eyes,
all on me,
all eyes,
hanging
all over me.
milk the silence.
i raise my arms up,
as though the crowd is crucifying me.
they want to finish their burgers.
they want to stroke each other's egos.
they want to pass the blame on some
distant land,
and stick boots up ***** and wave a few flags.
**"So civilization doesn't get to rust,
it goes out in a flash and is carried away as dust.
Mankind annihilates itself in a fit of boredom.
Get stoked for the funeral pyre."**
all eyes,
all on the ground.
all skin,
all plastic skin did melt.
all forgotten dreams,
all torn from hidden seams.
all the thin, the fat, the republican, the democrat,
all the white, the black, the chinese,
the arabs, the jews, the druggies,
the christians, the monkeys, mtv stars,
toilet seats, pamphlets,
all the newsreels, dvds,
collector's editions, suvs,
all fuse together,
all in one immaculate heat.
no one even got a chance to applaud.
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 9:57 PM UTC
**Full of charm, 'The Old Kings Arms'.
appendage of my home
a smiling face, a friendly place
a venue that bids welcome.
Ales on draught, cask or keg
Irish stout or cider
a glass of wine, from the vine
all for the connoisseur drinker.
Or should you fancy dining out
for daily brunch or luncheon
served while two, upon the menu
you'll find a wide selection.
Charm is seen, composure serene
a smile by far the sweetest
since time was rang, her name Joanne
your Hostess with the most-est.**
... ... ...
Jul 9, 2011
Jul 9, 2011 at 5:01 AM UTC
when the world,
was much younger
and i was a stupid-crazy
girl-ly-chick, enamoured
with her youth.
i drove, a sunshine,
lemon, yellow bottomed, white pith on top combi van. coyly, cloyingly named Mello Martha.
it was...surfboards and swimsuits,
egg and bacon sangers,
early morning breezes,
after a blitz at the breadbox.
before... changing into
the structured, tortured baby, bank teller blues,
in the back,doors left open.
it was... rockin, knockin,
*** on credit,
to a promised future,
alluded to, but postponed,
for the moment.
it was... bruised back and
grazed knees,
harder, deeper oh god!
oh god! please... faster, fucken frenzies,
on a saturday night.
it was....running away to nowhere,
to find myself,
then finding me,
running away from,
the self i didn't want to know.
noway, nowhere, nohow.
it was... a barrel of monkeys, a barrel of laughs,
a keg of beer,
a box of wine,
under the crowded stars.
it was.... a roadtrip,
up the coast,
midnight bonfire,
midnight munchies,
playing hunches,
exploring reefs and reefers and such.
it was...far from family
and church rules,
a friendly rebellion,
of loud, proud youth.
totally and brazenly,
uncouth
it was... wham! and m.j.
cindy and boy george's culture club ,paperlace,
billy idol and the beach boys.
sung with abandon,
at spinal tap level eleven.
it was... peaceful, quiet, sleeping grace.
insanely in love with...
i forgot his name.
it was.... the birth of bodaciously me.
all brass hair and bosoms,
wild and carefree.
it was ....so long ago,
it was... yesterday night,
when i saw... Mello Martha's identical twin,
stopped at a traffic light.
it was... sunshine and lemon, bitter and sweet,
as she sailed off, down the street.
i sat and watched,
wist, full of recollect,
far and away, from my presently minded place...
sitting in, the driver's seat,
of my mom-blue subaru.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
what I want for father's day
some years ago, in a dark hospital room we spoke,
you recall, me asking to a lender be, take twenty years, I said,
give them to her whose body invaded and was sleeping
not from love or purposeful nobility, thinking simple that
others, could use them better, and you listening, took but ten
way I figure it that leaves at least ten and maybe much more,
cause the best kept secret is the time and place you've arranged for us to meet, old friends greeting for the first time
got what I need, done my deeds, writ poems enough so here is what I plead and desire come the mark on the calendar tomorrow,
as if fatherhood didn't come with accountability and needed a notification special
did my sums, have me square and close to breaking even,
a perfect place to pause so take ten, take it all and put it, those years in a special reserve for those kids of kids, the ones who carry my genes, names and the burden of my words and the ones I just love for who they are
someday the arising unknowns of a mighty judgement coming might require a special adjudication and you such a
good record keeper, will recall this requested bequested,
and draw down the special reserve we schemers have put aside in their names, in your name, in my name, and tap that keg of extra life in sickness and health, when they come asking
that's not to much to ask...and oh yeah,
Happy Father's Day to you too
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 8:31 AM UTC