"louse" poems
Every where there's secrets
some are dark, some light
Everywhere there's secrets
Some best kept out of sight
Everywhere there's secrets
Of the living and the dead
Everywhere there's secrets
Some are better left unsaid
Would you listen to what you heard
If these walls could talk
Would you be scared to hear
If these walls could talk
Sounds of when you sat and cried
If these walls could talk
Of the day that Mama up and died
If these walls could talk
Look about and you will see
A secret in disguise
Look about and you will see
Just don't look through your eyes
Look about and you will see
A secret, full of lies
Just look about and you will see
Where secrets soar and rise
Secrets buried in the walls
If these walls could talk
Of playing games in upstairs halls
If these walls could talk
Fighting behind bedroom doors
If these walls could talk
Would you listen to the open sores
If these walls could talk
Secrets hidden in plain sight
But absorbed by an old house
Secrets hidden in plain sight
Silent, quiet like a mouse
Secrets hidden in plain sight
of a hero or a louse
Secrets hidden in plain sight
Behind the walls of an old house
Scars and cuts and verbal stones
If these walls could talk
Could break our hearts and break our bones
If these walls could talk
Sounds of laughter and of moans
If these walls could talk
Would you hear the ancient, haunted tones
If these walls could talk
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 4:48 PM UTC
We do **** culture in uhmerica.
What is uhmerican culture anyway?
I'll explain:
it's like,
irrationalized entitlement,
moral decadence on every side
of every fence &
sick narcissistic pride
to be parasitic,
a louse *******
the life out of
the whole **** planet.
Men who have
everything
still die from depression.
Women who call
freedom co-decency
bold faced oppression.
**** first question later.
Hermits complaining
about the rain when
they know **** well
they don't even go outside.
Everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone.
See?
It's a cycle.
A spiral.
Maybe it'll go quiet
into the night, or
maybe it'll ignite
the whole **** planet.
Has anyone else noticed
the rise and fall of
Napoleon & the Romans?
How every worldwide empire dies?
In a fiery gust of embarassment
that was the special from the start.
I've grown numb
to the disgust I felt
towards everyone else &
the fact that they're all
kind of beyond helping.
Now I'm just waiting
for it all to fall apart.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
the rat ******* has been re-purposed
(conscripted in a somewhat fodder task)
brandishing irons
and quarter lines
coiled and unwavering
insidious and cunning
pent up and fired
in his dripping shoes
and peel back skin
wheel bug and hookworm
are stolid in his wake
(all bursting grossly at the buckle!)
the heel on task;
slithering and rogue
merciless and coy
resolute and contemptuous
with his cotton mat
and quick ready quill
pungi and clapper
raise the clever snake
(croker sacks and wicker backs
dot the gasoline rainbow)
carnival barkers and kraken
(lewd in the distance)
taunting and vile
with their red beakers
and deep purple hearts
cicada and louse
high on alert
(ready to wreak havoc in the hog wallows)
the perverse cornered rat
snapping and soiled
foaming and inflamed
lurking and primed
inside his carefully crafted plan
easels and cover alls
suit this jackal well
(keefer’s little helper or so they'd say)
pickers running rough shod
all stirring up the stench
***** and conkeys
poised
and ready
to lime this cornered slug
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 10:57 PM UTC
On silken wings and silken strings
the garden doth awake
and from their beds those sleepy heads
their petals gently shake
a snail or two say how are you
as bumblebees take wing
to nectar sweet with sticky feet
as skylarks start to sing
a ladybug sleeps yet so snug
beneath a quilted leaf
her dreams untold as wings unfold
as earthworms crawl beneath
the ants at work refuse to shirk
they have no time to play
and cabbage whites like stars at night
take flight and fly away
the field mouse and wooded louse
attract the watchful eye
of tawny owl and feathered fowl
that own the morning sky
a homeward cat puts pay to that
no bird is fool enough
to try to land where danger stands
All teeth and claws called Fluff
so morrow breaks and nature wakes
and soon enough will we
but until then this land of men
is theirs so naturally
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
To a Louse
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Hey! Where're you going, you crawling hair-fly?
Your impudence protects you, barely;
I can only say that you swagger rarely
Over gauze and lace.
Though faith! I fear you dine but sparely
In such a place.
You ugly, creeping, blasted wonder,
Detested, shunned by both saint and sinner,
How dare you set your feet upon her—
So fine a lady!
Go somewhere else to seek your dinner
On some poor body.
Off! around some beggar's temple shamble:
There you may creep, and sprawl, and scramble,
With other kindred, jumping cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Where horn nor bone never dare unsettle
Your thick plantations.
Now hold you there! You're out of sight,
Below the folderols, snug and tight;
No, faith just yet! You'll not be right,
Till you've got on it:
The very topmost, towering height
Of miss's bonnet.
My word! right bold you root, contrary,
As plump and gray as any gooseberry.
Oh, for some rank, mercurial resin,
Or dread red poison;
I'd give you such a hearty dose, flea,
It'd dress your noggin!
I wouldn't be surprised to spy
You on some housewife's flannel tie:
Or maybe on some ragged boy's
Pale undervest;
But Miss's finest bonnet! Fie!
How dare you jest?
Oh Jenny, do not toss your head,
And lash your lovely braids abroad!
You hardly know what cursed speed
The creature's making!
Those winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice-taking!
O would some Power with vision teach us
To see ourselves as others see us!
It would from many a blunder free us,
And foolish notions:
What airs in dress and carriage would leave us,
And even devotion!
One Sunday while sitting behind a young lady in church, Robert Burns noticed a louse roaming through the bows and ribbons of her bonnet. The poem "To a Louse" resulted from his observations. The poor woman had no idea that she would be the subject of one of Burns' best poems about how we see ourselves, compared to how other people see us at our worst moments. Keywords/Tags: Robert Burns, louse, church, bonnet, lace, Scotland, Scots, dialect, translation
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 5:26 AM UTC
ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY’S BONNET AT CHURCH
Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie!
Your impudence protects you sairly:
I canna say but ye strunt rarely
Owre gauze and lace;
Tho’ faith, I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.
Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,
Detested, shunned by saunt an’ sinner,
How daur ye set your fit upon her,
Sae fine a lady!
*** somewhere else and seek your dinner,
On some poor body.
Swith, in some beggar’s haffet squattle;
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle
Wi’ ither kindred, jumpin cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Whare horn or bane ne’er daur unsettle
Your thick plantations.
Now haud ye there, ye’re out o’ sight,
Below the fatt’rels, snug an’ tight;
Na faith ye yet! ye’ll no be right
Till ye’ve got on it,
The vera tapmost, towering height
O’ Miss’s bonnet.
My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
As plump an’ grey as onie grozet:
O for some rank, mercurial rozet,
Or fell, red smeddum,
I’d gie ye sic a hearty dose o’t,
*** dress your droddum!
I *** na been surprised to spy
You on an auld wife’s flainen toy;
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,
On’s wyliecoat;
But Miss’s fine Lunardi!—fie!
How daur ye do’t?
O Jenny, dinna toss your head,
An’ set your beauties a’ abread!
Ye little ken what cursed speed
The blastie’s makin!
Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice takin!
O, *** some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It *** frae monie a blunder free us
An’ foolish notion:
What airs in dress an’ gait *** lea’e us,
And ev’n Devotion!
3.6k
The rabbit haunts from a distance, patrolling fields for one to bear witness.
Gracefully the tenderfoot stalks, keeping a watchful eye out for Mr.Fox.
The creature walks with a slight limp, other animals often call him a gimp.
This way, that way, it all seems wrong, keeping time with a lost robin's song.
His home constructed as a single story wonder, located within a large tree laying asunder.
Family life wasn't right, as fleeting an image as a wayward kite.
A field mouse, left without spouse,
Stumbled upon the home in a tree, accompanied by a group of songbirds filled with glee.
The field mouse was asked to go, the creature in response, simply said no.
A man stumbled up, as mad as a hatter, his portly girth made it hard to imagine being any fatter.
He spoke of intrinsic right, boundless visions beyond sight.
Told the rabbit he had a duty to the mouse, saying it immoral to deprive him of a house.
The rabbit, reluctant to accept , found out from the man of the true evils in neglect.
He was told that he didn't own the home, it had simply been gifted as a goodwill loan.
That meant it was as his as much as the rabbits, regardless of any perspective habits.
With that the moused moved in, and brought with him his prized snakeskin.
Over a meal the mouse spoke of danger, coming in the form of a wandering stranger.
He told the rabbit, this creature travelled light, but usually shrouded in the cover of night.
Said the creature was not large in size, though his methods of thievery seemed quite wise.
The rabbit recoiled in his chair, as the field mouse offered up a demonic glare.
The field mouse grinned from ear to ear, sensing this rabbit's new grasp on fear.
Pulling the snakeskin from his sack, the dried shell was quick to crack.
The mouse spoke of a brave duel, between him and this monster, which had downed a mule.
He used every ounce of his cunning, and sent the legless beat running.
It wasn't good enough for the mouse, who was certainly no louse.
He tracked the snake for six long hours, through a field of partially bloomed flowers.
In the end he killed the snake, then took its skin so listeners knew the tale wasn't fake.
He held the skin, I mean the mouse, and said he'd hang the shell within the house.
Mr. Rabbit was found dead two days after, his body lay desecrated next to the snakes, hanging from a rafter.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
In my neighborhood
Your hedge presses against my hedge
In my dreams
Your leg presses against my leg
In my neighborhood
People hate me
In your mind
You overrate me
In my neighborhood
****** burns the sorrow
With you
There's always tomorrow
Neighbors are the worst
They unquench
Labors of thirst
They're also the best
When it comes to people
They're the rest
If you could do me a favor
And not be my neighbor
I need you in my house
You're stuck in my head
You're my louse
Then the neighbors foreclosed my home
Morphing me into the roaming gnome
Does a homeless man have neighbors?
Like a wild dog
With no bone to savor?
It just breaks my heart
When people run each other off the road
With their hate filled cart
In my mind the roadblock is your face
Through the window I see the hate
We'll use my roadblock to erase
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 4:37 AM UTC
Jingle, jingle, Mr. Kringle
Please drop by my house.
Don’t miss it like you did last year
Don’t be that seasonal louse
That brought cheesy kinds of toys
From the local dollar store
We shopped there all the time
So we had seen them before.
I don’t want to sound ungrateful
But Action Tommy is not the same
As GI Joe. Between the two there’s
More difference than the name.
And Lego blocks fit together
To build some amazing things
Those copycat toys from Taiwan
Do not build much of anything.
Jingle, Jingle, Mr. Kringle
If you are real, please heed.
None of those toys and junk
Is really what we need.
It would be better if you could
Bring a job for my poor Dad.
Make it better than minimum, like
The one he most recently had.
And maybe a raise for Mom
Who works a full time job too.
Would a dollar an hour be such
An earth-shaking thing to see to?
So, just in general, Kringle dude,
If it wouldn’t make you awful mad
Could you twitch your nose and
Make this Christmas not be sad?
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC
I.
A louse in a house
or a mouse on a blouse.
A bell that goes ****
or a gong that goes ****
A gap on a map
or a cap on your lap.
A drink in the sink
or an ink that stinks.
A spleen on a screen
or a queen who is green.
A bow in the snow
or a crow that glows.
II.
A wash or a whip,
a lip or a lop,
a top or a tip,
a car or afar,
a bar or a war,
a door or a snore,
a bore or a nail,
a flail or a whale,
a run or a bun,
a sun or a moon,
a spoon or a bus,
a fuss or a sigh,
a cry or a cheer,
a fear or a smile,
a while or a pen,
a den or a cat,
a mat or a hat,
a bat or a glass,
a vase or a weight,
a mate or a fork,
a cork or a mop,
a cop or a stop.
III.
Apples and artichokes, ants and antelopes,
bees and beers, books and brains,
cucumbers and chimneys, ***** and coats,
dogs and drains, dots and dominoes,
ears and eejits, elephants and exams,
flies and flutes, files and friends,
grasses and guts, giants and gyms,
horrors and hiccups, horses and hills,
igloos and irons, irises and idiots,
jumpers and jackets, jodhpurs and jellies,
kings and kettles, kites and kittens,
lions and lamps, lemons and lunches,
mums and monsters, mosses and moths,
noses and notes, nightmares and needles,
oblongs and orang-utans, organs and oranges,
paintings and pennies, ponds and pants,
quiches and quizzes, questions and queues,
rainbows and rings, rascals and rabbits,
snakes and sprouts, sweets and salts,
trumpets and trains, tables and toasters,
umpires and ukuleles, umbrellas and uniforms,
violets and vests, violins and vials,
wheels and wings, windows and weeds,
xylems and x-rays, xylophones and xysters,
yachts and yoghurts, yards and yaks,
zigzags and zephyrs, ziggurats and zombies.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 5:03 PM UTC
The Frog and The Bee and the Mouse with the House lived together in peace and harmony on the River Louse.
One day the Mouse with the house did declare it was time that he moved out of there.
The Frog and The Bee did not agree and set about convincing the Mouse with the House that he needed to stay on the River Louse.
They sent out invitations to all around to attend tea at half past three.
The tea party was in honour of the Mouse with the house to be held on the banks of the River Louse and hosted by his dear friends The Frog and The Bee.
One by one each creature replied and the guest list rose quickly to Twenty Five.
The Frog and The Bee decided the tea would be civil indeed and The Frog made some scones and The Bee made some honey.
At half past one The Frog and The Bee set up some tables to lay out the tea.
At half past two the tables were laid with the scones from The Frog and The honey The Bee had made.
The scene did look grand, pots of tea and saucers of milk all laid on a tablecloth made of silk.
At half past three the guests started to arrive.
The first of the guests to arrive were The Elf with one ear and The Fly with one eye. The Mouse was delighted to see his friends, the ones who helped get Horse around the river bend.
Next came the Horse and his Master of course to thank the Mouse with the House on the River Louse for his friendship and help on the day that the Horse could not get around the river bend and the Mouse with the House, The Elf with one ear, The Fly with one eye, The Frog and The Bee all pulled together and worked merrily to assist the Horse round the river course.
One by one others did attend, there was a duck who lost his cluck but the Mouse with the House helped him every day until he could at last say "cluck cluck"
Next came a ****** who had forgotten how to weave but the Mouse with the House lay out the sticks until the Beavers memory began to tick and the ****** remembered how to weave.
Then came a beautiful Butterfly with bright red wings. She told the Frog and The Bee that one day the Mouse had found her crying and sighing her wings had faded and she did not look grand a thing of beauty. The Mouse ran back to his House and in his shed found a can that had Paint in Red on the side. He took a brush and painted her wings and now the Butterfly all shiny and bright flapped her wings with all her might.
Last but not least the Mayor arrived with his glorious wife by his side.
Mayor and Mayoress Swan did agree that the Mouse with the House should not leave his friends of The River Louse and they would indeed miss him dearly if he relocated his house.
The Mouse smiled embarrassingly and said "I am sorry he did declare, there's been a mix up, when I said" I must get out of there" it was only to the shops I intended to go but The Frog and The Bee moved too fast or I moved to slow"
The Frog and The Bee and all the guests were all delighted with the news and brought in some music supplied by "Five in a Pen" which of course were all mother Hens and they danced all night until the Moon went in and the Sun came out.
Then the Frog and The Bee said to their friend the Mouse "let's do this again next year, and Mouse can bake cake for the tea, our friends can attend and we'll dance all night to Five in a Pen and we'll eat scones and honey and cake too and we'll do this in honour of all our friends and those who live and work on the River bend"
THE END
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 5:08 AM UTC
I dipped a woodlouse in the ink
I set it on the page
Watched it craft fine works of art
I was stunned, so amazed by the words that flowed
I's and oh's there in repose as that louse moved its feet
None here could write with such delight
Such a one word piece of art
And so I set a color pallete down
Watched it work throughout the night
Oh, oh such a glorious work evolved
Of color tint and hue
A work so crafted, so wonderful
That could be challenged by so few
And upon that work of wonder
A one word poem grew
And all this by a woodlouse
Using six legs instead of two
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
Chamomile and honey
Polka-dots and money
Teacup pigs are funny
I'm cold when it's sunny
Take me to your house
Treat me like your spouse
More quiet than a mouse
Less violent than a louse
Seek and you will find
The bobbin that I wind
All in love are blind
Stay always on my mind
Different is good
Don't conform to your 'hood
The trees will bring you wood
Trust in them you should
Never fear the unknown
For the trees have grown
The wind has blown
The birds have flown
My soul has shown
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC
Does part of your confusion?
Arise from the contusion?
Of that kiss so lovingly wrapped inside a fist?
Why hold back?
What’s pain?
Just black
A void
In which to switch!
We both know that you can’t touch me
In the fortress of my mind
For only I control the drawbridge
Vermin’s
More than often blind
squeak
squeak
squeak
*“Please let me in.
I have some wares to sell.
I’ll cross your palm with silver.
No secrets will I tell”*
Little mouse
Go away
Go back where you belong
We all know the germs you carry
We all know that they are wrong
YOU
Tout yourself as honest
YOU
Tout yourself as pure
But just beneath the surface
In the sewers
**YOU
DO LURE**
Lure the unsuspecting
Lure the barely formed
Punting pretence of perfection
Salivating salacious scorn
*“But … please Miss.
Hear me out.
You have me oh so wrong.
I'm just like all the other Joes.
Lost and all alone.
The mistake that I made was in telling you.
Thoughts inside my head.
On reflection.
Now.
I realise.
They were better off not said”*
Little louse
It is too late
For your motives are plain to see
Time to move on
Time to move out
Time to live out your sick fantasies ...
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 5:03 AM UTC
The rednecks didn't see it.
Obviously, many of us did.
The bigots refuse to acknowledge it.
Although we weren't.
Nothing about the redheaded clown fool us.
All his connection seems to be corrupt.
And now they turning color like the rainbows.
Still, the foolishness continues on.
When you defend a communist based country which your money seems to have been built.
But tear down your own agents of the best.
You were only fooling yourself.
Now your lawyer became wise.
He has a family with he mustn't cut his ties.
Your FIXER is a corrupt guy.
Not only him many others falling by the waste side.
Run Trump Run.
The feds are coming, the feds are coming.
The supporters that hated upon the best-qualified woman.
Now trying to defend this fool even more.
And look at his second in command.
He makes no sense.
Standing in the background like a fool too.
Cause the redheaded clown found him a flunky and a fool.
But this CONGRESS that attacked President Obama now facing their own election drama.
We aware now that Obama always stood taller than the clown.
Even those against Hillary must admit they didn't want a woman running the country.
Democrats women are more outspoken.
I can't say it's in their DNA.
But their spouses let them say what they have to say?
Can't say much about this first robotic lady presently in the white house.
We know in some opinions only she seems to have a husband.
Who's a louse?
Run President Run.
We were very aware you were dumb.
Run, run, run but you show can't hide.
A classic Temptations line.
Now, look at others trying to distance themselves from the man.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 1:18 PM UTC
Pain has left my house
because she was nothing
but a louse
and a parasitic insect
and a very contemptible
person to live with because all
she ever wanted to do
was to inflict her pain
while stealing my soul.
Along with her she took Lies and Hurt
who were really a couple of jerks
always looking for someone or something
to infect and now the two
will just lay low until
they find somewhere else to put
on their show.
Hurt and Lies know that they
will always be needed again for control
and will always have a job to do
somewhere so they just stand by
on call and patiently wait
for another wall to climb over
and another heart
to devour.
Since Lies , Pain and Hurt work so well
together they all had to leave at once
because they know that they are not welcome
in my house anyway
so thay will just go somewhere
where they can be somebody
else's dunce.
Sorrow and Despair coudn't stay either
because they felt so rejected
and they wanted to stay
with Hurt and Pain
because they were getting tired
of being locked away and having
no place to play and nothing
left to gain.
Joy and Love finally came back home
where they belonged after
being gone for so long
and I really missed them and this time
they promised that would
never leave and apoligized
for having been so deceived
and promised to stay
and be my friends till
the end. Jon York 2012
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 7:31 PM UTC
There was a crooked man
Who had a crooked smile
Secured a crooked Russian loan
With putin on speed-dial
He had 3 crooked marriages
He lives a crooked life
Cheating, lying, self-promoting
Wants Daughter-not his Wife
He “won” a crooked election
Just to steal more money
Investigators fired THREE times
His tantrums are not funny!
He pushed a crooked bill
Despite collective cries
Desperately tweeting diversions
Ignore those Russian ties!
Crooked Sarah Sanders
Smiles as she repeats his lies
Look behind the curtain
Prevent Democracy’s demise
This vile crooked man-child
Lives in a crooked White House
Embarrassing the World
A tweeting presidential louse
A shitstorm pouring out
With bad grammar and no style
Desperately denying collusion
Time to put them all on TRIAL
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 4:14 PM UTC
Buddy Buzzkill
Waits ‘til nobody’s home
Jimmies a window, sneaks in
And is free to roam.
He smokes all the dope
Drinks all the alcohol
Eats all the food
Until none is left at all.
Then he sleeps in your bed
And sneaks back out again
He comes back; hears you moan
How somebody broke in
And robbed him when he was not home.
Buddy Buzzkill
He’s a special king of louse.
He pretends to like you
Then, sleeps with your spouse.
He’ll hit you up for money
Then he’ll borrow your car.
And you lend it to him
That’s the kind of sap you are.
What is it about this guy
That makes it hard to say no?
Why does it not occur to folks
To look at him and say, “Blow!”
Buddy Buzzkill
He’s a master at telling tales
Of people he has laid
And the times he was in jail
For some ludicrous reason
That is always the fault of others.
He tell you how much you mean
And that you are like brothers
And then one morning you rise
And your stereo is gone
And so is Buddy Buzzkill
It’s time for him to move on.
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
I am pretty sure I should have been born a bug
These eyes have never been good for believing
But these hands
Stretch out like antennae
And will hold heartbeats till people make sense
I have never met a lap that didn’t look comfy
Or shoulders too bony to rest my head on
I have never met a bear
That I didn’t want to hug me
I am so much one man sized
Invasion of privacy
That I hand out **** whistles on first dates
Not that I’d **** anybody
I just need a painful reminder
Of appropriate distance
Even though
Distance is painful
I mean
I get lonely sometimes
And if you invite me to bed
And don’t ask me for ***
I will skip straight to the cuddles
Till we sweat salty *** puddles
I mean
Goosebumps is the human kinda Braille
For hold me
I know that
Because
I can read your skin with my fingertips
Every chill
Every pock mark
And scar
Has a translation
And If I were a louse
Or a flea
Or a lone cricket
Chirping cuddle-bug morse code
In the silence of your naptime
I’d take the time
To translate the language of your body
All you have to do
Is hold me
Nov 21, 2011
Nov 21, 2011 at 11:30 PM UTC
There was a crooked man
And he had a crooked smile
He had all crooked teeth
they'd been crooked for a while
He had a crooked house
on a crooked little road
with a crooked little garden
with a crooked little toad
He had a crooked dog
with a crooked little tail
he had a crooked mailbox
for his crooked little mail
he had some crooked dreams
in his crooked little bed
he saw crooked little monsters
in his crooked little head
he had two crooked children
with his crooked little spouse
they weren't with the crooked man
he was a crooked little louse
he ate his crooked dinner
off of crooked little plates
he lived in crooked silence
behind his crooked little gate
this crooked little man
and his crooked little self
is in a crooked urn
up on a crooked little shelf
his crooked heart attacked him
on a crooked little ride
his crooked body gave on out
and the crooked man...just died
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
It all started with a big mistake;
I’m here to tell it was all a big fake.
Fred hit Kelly in his great big mouth;
He said he caught Kelly at his girl’s house.
Rosie was jealous of Fred’s main squeeze;
Said she always does what she pleases.
So, she cooked up the story about her.
And Kelly never knew a thing either.
But that didn’t stop the fur from flying.
I tell you the truth, if I’m lying I’m dying.
The mood changed in the old hangout.
Everyone stuck around, nobody cut out.
Everyone was gathered for birthday cheer.
You know, some pool and some beer.
Nobody knew about Rosie’s big lie
Or what kind of crap would soon fly.
They just laughed and cracked jokes;
Enjoyed some legal and illegal smokes.
And when the mood was sufficiently jolly
Rosie quietly took Kelly out into the ally.
Said she saw Kelly go into the house
Fred started fuming, calling Kelly a louse.
He went back in and he smacked old Kelly
And followed it up with a shot to the belly.
While Kelly was reacting, Fred purely raged.
He wasn’t quite done, was not even assuaged.
But Kelly’s girl Lydia heard what Fred said
And smacked Rosie up side of her head.
She started screaming that Rosie was a liar,
And then there were two more irons in the fire.
It was two women and two men slugging.
The Fist City Express started chugging.
Mirrors were broken by costly pool sticks
The bartender finally got tired of the tricks
And got out his baseball bat and stepped in.
Rosie ******* up and hit him on the chin.
By now, a customer called nine one one,
And the end of the brouhaha had begun.
All four of the combatants were busted.
And the cops finally decided they trusted
The regular customers who all insisted
That the bartender not be arrested.
It might be good to say it was a big shame
But fights in bars are the name of the game.
Especially when women fight, it’s a show
And bystanders in bars always let them go
And then cheer and some even take bets.
This is how selling alcohol to fools often gets.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 11:28 PM UTC
There was a little mouse and he had a little house.
The little mouse lived in the little house in the little village on the river louse.
In the little village on the river louse with the little mouse, lived a little frog.
The little frog lived on a little log in the middle of a bog on the river louse and was friends with the little mouse.
The little frog who lived on the little log in the middle of a bog on the river louse had another little friend, a bee.
The little bee buzzed from tree to tree, floating merrily from flower to flower, flowers that surrounded the little house occupied by the little mouse on the river louse.
One day the mouse, the frog and the bee got together for afternoon tea.
They met at the house of the little mouse on the river louse at a quarter to three.
The mouse brought some cheese, the frog brought the tea's and the bee brought the honey and they all Sat around a table in the mouse's little house on the river louse.
The Mouse, the frog and the bee declared themselves friends for all eternity in the mouses little house on the river louse.
At a quarter to four, they all went to the door and the Mouse said goodbye to his friends.
The frog went back to sit on his log in the middle of the bog and the bee continued floating from tree to tree.
The mouse did the dishes and then rested his little head on his little bed, in his little house on the river louse.
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 4:49 PM UTC
The mouse with a house on the River Louse, was walking in a field one day.
He had his head down, nose buried in a stack of hay.
He was searching for some small sticks to take back to his home; his house on the River Louse.
Now that Winter was settling in, Mr Mouse wanted to light a fire and needed some sticks to form the pyre.
Mr Mouse had his head down and therefore not looking where he was going.
Along came a lady Mouse called Hilda with a bag full of shopping.
She was happy and singing and dancing, twirling and hopping.
Hilda was unaware of the Mouse with a house on the River Louse being in the vicinity.
She was feeling hopeful, full of sanguinity.
Mr Mouse still head down looking for sticks didn’t realise Hilda was around.
He had his nose firmly pointing to the ground.
Both mice continued with their missions.
Oblivious to each other and the weather conditions .
Mr Mouse, head down turned to his left, Hilda twirling and hopping turned to her right.
Suddenly they clashed and caused each other such a fright.
Hilda clutched Mr Mouse very tight.
Mr Mouse apologised and pulled Hilda up off the floor.
He offered to show Hilda to his front door, Mr Mouse was very proud of his house on the River Louse.
The two mice had afternoon tea and sat warming themselves by the fire.
Soon it was time for Hilda to retire to her own home but they made plans to meet the very next day.
This time Mr Mouse would not have his nose in the hay.
They would walk and talk and have plenty to say.
Until the light faded from the day and the Moon came out to play.
In less than 2 months they had fallen in love and were married on the river by a dainty turtle dove.
Now they were together night and day.
Mr Mouse still searched for sticks with his nose in the hay.
Hilda still did the shopping all the while twirling, dancing and hopping
Together they had 12 children of their own.
Now they always had company, and neither ever felt alone.
Oct 30, 2019
Oct 30, 2019 at 5:53 PM UTC
wouldn't the world be dull and louse,
without painted nails,skirts and blouse,
with delicate limbs,gestures demure,
how well do they us allure!
kohl-lined sparkling eye,
long tresses in henna dye,
melodious voice and tinkling toe,
without a sword behead their foe.
from Cleopatra to Helen unchallenged they rule,
taming brave warriors into innocent mules,
fair hand that cradle rock,
cruelly punish and shock,
its true that in our heart they lie,
but they are more than just.....'feast for the eye'
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 2:52 PM UTC
You question me with insipid candor
As though it was worth an answer
Repeat the same deeds with silver tongue
A talented, insolent dancer
Do you not see the ripples and wakes
The wan smiles pasted on your son's face
Reflect just once on your mistakes
The painful sound your cadence makes
Crashing like waves as it's always been
I am forced to wayward roam alone
To receive my only splendor as obscene
I am cursed to despise anything my own
Until only perspective renders me clean
The strength within is all I've sought
Through years of patience finally bought
Destroyed in a second with one wrong thought
So I hold fast to what my numb heart has wrought
Wash away, and never let you in
Perhaps one day you'll breach the shore
As a man who relishes in serendipity
Abandoning everything else for whom he values more
Who trades an ocean of isolation for an epiphany
But until you know a man from a mouse
Until you know a lover from a spouse
Not until you know a child from a louse
Until then I'll be waiting for you at the lighthouse
Waiting to call you Dad again
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC