"mckenzie" poems
mr moonlight
mr nowhere
maxwell edison
mr jones
dr robert
sgt pepper
mr kite, bb king
edgar allen poe
walter raleigh
mat busby
the hendersons
and maggie mae
mr mustard
captain marvel
rita lucy jojo
vera chuck and dave
mother nature
polethene pam
mr heath doris day
and buffalo bill
loretta martin
**** sadie
hey jude eggman
my michelle
rigby and pilchard
or elenor and semolina
took father mckenzie
too see a dancing horse
henry his name was
rocky raccoon was there
prudence rode elephant
to the i me mine waltz
---
There gonna crucify me
the way things go
christ it aint easy
the next day dont know
you know the walrus was paul man
johns bird can sing
george was a genie
ringo wore a ring
but paul is dead now
george stole his soul
john is alive though
ringos in a hole
her royal highness the tax man
commit the perfect crime
she asked for more
with a belly full of wine
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC
I don't want to be a speck in this ocean of humanity.
I don't want my words to be so small and obscure that even the keenest ear, still, cannot hear.
I don't want to be tossed and kicked and shoved about, like the speck I fear I am.
The speck that floats & sweeps and glides & sighs - the speck that will never be examined.
I breathe.
I live.
I mean.
I am.
I don't want to be invisible.
---
The world is one big bustle after another - people pushing and shoving, only to sleep and repeat?
I am the one you bumped into, in a race to catch the nooner to downtown Detroit.
I am the girl you stumbled past, in your rush to catch another cab.
I am the flower girl on McKenzie who sold you more marigolds.
The waitress at PJ's who asked, "More cream?"
The cashier at Aldi's who bagged your Arizona.
I am that ticket taker at Cinemark who gave you your stub and genuinely hoped you would enjoy your movie.
I am the girl you're seated by, right now.
This instant.
So close, you can hear her soft breaths;
So close, you can nearly smell her perfume;
So close, and still...
You stand.
You gather your things, get off the train, and run off to catch another, what?
Bus? Plane? Cab?
You're gone.
And, I'm here.
And, I'm still the girl;
The girl who might have been your soulmate.
But, you traded me for 15 minutes of silence and a bed you'd sleep in alone.
---
I don't want to be a speck in this ocean that is your world.
I want to be a boulder.
I want to mean something,
And be something,
And exist to you.
So, STOP.
I'm here.
"Hello."
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 9:15 PM UTC
I sit where I could get a fresh breathand somehow escape the smells of collard greens, fried chicken, man-n-cheese, and Momma’s 7-up pound cake.Sunday dinners were never going to be the same and Daddy’s to blame.Pot-bellied Pastor McKenzie sneezed in the same rag that he was wiping his sweaty face with. Auntie Lena brushing pasthim to avoid his sermon on ‘cleansing your soul’ putting the carnation bouquets on the dining table.Momma leaning on her callused elbows, which ain’t ableto take too much more stress. Brandy and Brittney flipped through channels fighting over the best pillow on the couch.My uncle Jo rambling on about this sweating he does in the south.Nobody even noticed the things that were coming out of Daddy’s mouth. “Sorry baby. Daddy’s so sorry,” on repeat like my Alicia Keys CDthat Kayla scratched last year in the same car Daddy wrecked. I played it in the living room, hoping to bring her back.Her frizz free hair was all that I was jealous of. Her clothes were cuter than mine and one size too big. Her humor rubbed off on me and is the reason I’m a kidder. Time to eat, but I can’t breathe.Kayla could never again help with dinner.
Feb 26, 2010
Feb 26, 2010 at 8:10 AM UTC
Father Mckenzie
Turk’s Head teased my shadow
free last evening along the arroyo
our separation minute yet
edging toward the clement lip
accruing like the thunder eggs
I keep in a jar by the door
God long since departed, drifted
away on the high desert wind
that drew us here long ago
rifled pages of the Book Of Common Prayer.
A sodden breeze from home last night
a tang of salt, a churchyard hush
low plaint of cello’s lurking around
these adobe walls for a way inside
my callow words returned to claim
their hollow sound and mouth
all that was left unsaid
an old man darning socks
in the night when nobody’s there
crossing the room to leave
the door ajar to old sermons
bible black sky pierced with diamonds.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 8:43 AM UTC
Jax,Lily,Flawless,Marta,Dr.Shweta,Shiv,Neeraj,Dg.
Emeka,Miss,Jules,Bridgett,Salim, Joceyn,memoona.
Sampreeta,daud,Stephanie,Grace,No name,Eloisa.
Hijenduanao,Kauthar,Damien,Joye,Marta,Narendra.
Jolene, Perry, Freebird,Surbhi,Godawan,Ikimi,tm,
Xaela,try,S Nirmal,Astrea,Erin,Mindless,Lace,HB.
AP,Timur,Kasidee,Caterra,the untold,Melancholy.
Melanie,mckenzie, clark,beebz,sherri,bryan,bakunawa.
khaliyah,brianna,Ay2brutus,Angel-like,Maxx,Lure ***
Mike, me zeal, Kim,Kim,Maeiby,Shanath,Marshall,xallan.
Weeping Willow,Mike Hauser,Serena,AnnMarie,DavidLewis.
JenniferJohnson, itgonnamakesense,Mike Essiq,Nancy.
Olivia,Paul,Mark,Phil,PoetressBhumi and Wilyam Pax.
Here some more love you all, I pray that you are blessed.
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 5:44 PM UTC
Mary Mack dressed in red.
A Bonnie blue ball cap adorns her head.
Painted on jeans and jungle boots.
Jet black eyeliner.
curled up lashes. Eyes dark brown. Catch the blue trolley heading uptown.
Mary Mack is a pleasure savant.for twenty-five dollars you can get what u want.
You caint always get what u want, but if you cry sometimes
you get what u need.
Mary McKenzie. All in a frenzy.
Sped up on ice. Nice baby. Nice.
Got that rare disease called noassatall.
Burning calories like crazy.
cant call the girl lazy. Never sit still.
Two degrees in arts.
trying out for bit parts.now and then.
Fame. An oasis/mirage
Singing lead in a band in a backyard garage.
Many parts to Ms. Mary.
Strange, sweet,smart and dumb.
Message to Mary.
Go back where your from.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC
The hammer is falling, my fists are clenching, my teeth are gnashing while my bones are crunching. Waves of pain are crashing, smashing against me, finally breaking. This level of pain can't be good to be taking, bad for my health. The voices are calling but no one is there, not even myself. My blood is pumping, sped by adrenaline dumping. The lack of the drug is inducing my mind to start seizing, both my legs are freezing, involuntarily quaking. The sensation of claws are slashing my back. As my heart keeps thumping, jumping around - heart attack? Now my blood is pooling. So the attack dogs keep drooling. They smell the blood and begin to whip into a frenzy, so I jump up, and run like McKenzie. Moving fast, as if I had wheels, one dog was faster and now nips at my heels. The dog bit my foot so I tripped and then fell. Now it’s gnawing on my leg, and I don’t feel very well. So I patted the dog’s head and then laid down for a spell…will I wake up? Only time will tell. When I come to my senses I won't feel at all well. Life hurts at times, unbearably so. If not for Divine intervention, I'd much rather go.
Sep 13, 2024
Sep 13, 2024 at 1:08 PM UTC
that's the words i hear when i hear European
films, esp. in French,
Quarus! Dvór! Baganiet Buda! the cat just
escaped into the night while i was refilling my glass...
i end up feeling so outlandish, so Essex,
so ******* caveman, so Darwinism
making me feel it only writes English history...
so ******* sorry... so ******* whatever...
living in England for the past 20 odd years
makes me miss continents,
it even doesn't make me Icelandic...
it just makes me ******* sad...
it kinda makes me want to rap...
establish the special relationship with America...
well... n'ah, forget the biblical McKenzie...
sleepers sprout from nowhere,
my father played bridge and water-polo...
i was caught catching pokemon...
grew a beard and grew a satchel of fat...
**** yeah mickey mouse!
charcoal cha-cha smear and
jokinie in French i want to sink this godforsaken place;
every, single, time, i, hear, of America,
in, England, i imagine rednecks equivalents in Dorset,
never bothered to learn a line of parlez-vous...
it eats at me... the laziness... the xenophobic
cocksure libido... it ******* chokes me...
i just want them to learn French, but they won't...
they're sailing all the way toward Mars!
i hope they bring back a bacterial meteor back
to excavate an extinction...
no, next week's Sunday isn't good either,
to hold a receptive care for a lunch...
****** die;
i'm starting to feel English claustrophobia...
which means everyone has to speak English...
**** me it feels like itchy honey smears up
the **** ugh.
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 9:19 PM UTC
Eleanor rigby. Picks up the rice in the church where her wedding has been.
Lives in a dream. Waits by the window,wearig the face that she keeps in a jar by the door. Who is it for.
Father Mckenzie writting the words to a sermon that no one will hear.
Looka at him.working.darning his socks in the night when there's no body there. No one comes near. All the lonely people.
I look at all the lonely peopple.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 2:22 PM UTC
The coming of Biden and Harris reminds me of one of the most beautiful and evocative songs ever sung, the first line of which goes something like this: "If you're going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair." It was written and composed by John Phillips and sung by Scott McKenzie. Implicit not only in its writing and composing, but also in its singing, this song emotes the most powerful message that can ever be delivered to and absorbed by humankind: LOVE.
I would have been in Haight-Ashbury in June, July, and August of 1967, but I was a patient at the famous Menninger Foundation at that time, the best help of its kind in the world, and expensive (my father was a rich). But it was my mother who finessed my way into Menninger’s, not my father. He wanted me to become an attorney on Wall Street and make millions (now billions). That is, after all, why he had gladly paid a fortune to send me to the best schools in the world: Phillips Andover Academy (prep school) and Columbia College, Columbia University. I attended law school after college, but began to have problems sleeping that only grew worse during my first semester. The less sleep I got, the more difficult it was to study. Finally, I couldn’t sleep at all. I dropped out of law school right before first-semester finals, an act for which my father never forgave me.
But my sleepless nights continued even after I dropped out, which ******* up my mind and my life terribly. I had no idea why this was happening to me. If my mother had not surreptitiously intervened and got me into Menninger’s, I no doubt would not be writing this to you. Psychotherapy not only saved my life, but also allowed me, for the first time in my life, to realize I had feelings--my own feelings--my hopes, my dreams, my wishes, my needs. And after months, something magical happened when I unconsciously married my intellect with my new-found feelings: out of me popped a poem, and I have remained a poet to this very day.
What does what I’ve just shared with you have to do with Biden and Harris? The answer is that both brought, and now bring, great promise, great hope. Out of total darkness comes the bright light of a new beginning--a caring, a compassion, the lack thereof almost brought me to my death, and our nation, democratically speaking, to the same. Now there are, metaphorically speaking, flowers in our hair once more.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 4:38 PM UTC
**I’m going to kiss your lips,
they are cold and taste like the word America)Quote)*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am going to say curry, turmeric, ginger and, garlic
The secret to one’s health:
the true radiant of loving ones’ body:
Like this secret place in my mind
The Gardens at Marqueyssac, Vézac, France.(relaxing)
I’m going to make love to you like the internet explorer
Two words Private mode: just to quench the thirst (even though)
It wiser to separate the two, business and pleasure
One word complication: never bed your business partner (unless)
If you can pulled it off like my heroine McKenzie Bezos (go for it)
I’m going to exam your tockley,
It’s sinful, and deadly, like the initials S.T.D
I am going to end here with a prayer,
Asking for guidance, and Lysol sprays:
Dark Poem
Apr 27, 2019
Apr 27, 2019 at 11:52 AM UTC
I wake up in an unknown room
With needles sticking out of both my hands and one in my arm
There is a tube down my throat and i cant figure out why im still breathing
I look around with blurry eyes
And here the beeps with foggy ears
I look up to see clear bags on poles connected to the needles
I feel like i can hear the slow drip drip drip of the liquid flowing through those tubes
I know it is impossible but i could feel those drips
They were like tiny earth quakes in my hands
That shook me to my coar
A smiling blonde nurse walks in and takes the tube out of my throat
Her name is McKenzie
McKenzie tells me how I was life flighted to spokane
How i have been in a coma for 4 days
How my heart rate was above 170
How my dog found me
laying on the concrete floor covered in my own ****
But all i can hear is the incessant beeping of machines
All i can hear is the sound of my own failure
I took so many pills i lost track after 150
I could still feel the steel knife against my skin
I was so careful
So sure
Well
They always say third times the charm.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 10:29 PM UTC
I see you everywhere but beside me,
the one place that I need you the most.
I don’t know if you’ve just felt like hiding,
but it feels like I’m being stalked by a ghost.
I think of my life consisting of just time biding,
with parasitic emptiness and I’m the host.
This hits me like waves I am meant to be riding,
and it follows me persistently from coast to coast.
The grass didn’t seem so green back then
I guess all that constant rain did pay off,
‘cause now this little future’s just a casual friend,
and my god looking back the past was soft.
It’s not like I always want to be drenched in sorrow,
I find I look much better in brown, blue or grey,
you know I’d trade in every tomorrow
for just one more yesterday.
I hear every voice but yours in my ears,
the deafening noise has made me forget that sound,
since I’ve heard that sweet melody it’s been too many years,
and every other pitch makes my static brain pound.
I’m always biting my lip but now I’m fighting tears,
I shake my head side to side and around.
I’m quickly losing stamina from battling my fears
and now looking forward to my hole in the ground.
The skies never seemed clear and blue back then,
it turns out that I was the creator of each cloud,
I’m hoarding past calendars so that I can pretend
that I’m back in time and making everyone else proud.
If you’ve got a hour or two that I can borrow,
I swear I’m good for it and whatever price; I’ll pay,
‘cause you know I’d trade in every tomorrow
for just one more yesterday.
I feel you all over, laced in everything,
if it wasn’t such a curse, it’d be a gift.
You’re the peace in winter and the hope in spring,
you’re the summer sun and autumn’s winds so swift.
I’m relieving every memory, looking for a place to cling,
I remember all of the details but the clarity is now adrift.
Side to side, back and forth, I constantly swing,
it pulls and drags me down but it can also give the highest lift.
The sun never seemed to shine right back then,
but maybe I was just too busy looking for artificial light.
I was never one for second looks but I should’ve searched again,
because everything I wanted was already in my sight.
So I plant a seed hoping it will eventually grow
and I sculpt all I wish for with clay,
‘cause you know I’d trade in every tomorrow
for just one more yesterday.
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 10:12 PM UTC
Truth is, the world needs more people to love.
Love is so rare now because everyone wants to play the tough guy. Truth is you're hurt on the inside and need LOVE, but has a fake "savage" persona.
Truth is, everything is about likes, follows, views, etc., but no one has morals. We are willing to do anything to get the above listed. Think.
Truth is, we are QUICK to bash people instead of help them become better.
Truth is, we are quick to reject correction and become FOOLS.
Truth is, we need to stop worrying about what people think. Love yourself and do what makes YOU happy.
I don't know who made it cool to be "cool".
Be yourself. If people are not f-cking with you, for being yourself, then so be it. They obviously don't need to be in your life.
Truth is, we need to focus on becoming better as individuals.
Peace and love.
-Ron McKenzie, @ronomckenzie
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 10:43 PM UTC
Today at school it was just announced that you decided to die
You turned your back to the world, all we could do was cry
Counselor's lined up in the halls to help us with our grieving
It doesn't matter though because we all just want you breathing
The world is darker with out you here for you were the sun
The smile on your face would heal the pain of almost everyone
Everyone except you dear which no one understood
Your death which is the reason we left school today
Not a soul stood in the halls of our school hallway
Mckenzie love, you will be missed I'm not sure how we'll survive
But one day we once again will be able to see you thrive
- FlyHighKenzie
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
An angel has been gained,
yet there has been so much blood stained.
In these families' lives,
the men can little as comfort their wives.
They will weep and fill with sorrow,
pray that there will be a better tomorrow.
The cruel truth of reality is true,
and for a while their eyes will only know blue.
Younger then 85 is a terrible way to die,
their loved ones can do nothing but ask God "why"?
Yet perhaps God knows this,
as the families stare out into the vacant abyss.
They may find peace with prayer,
tell them that God is there.
There is a reason for what has been done,
do not worry, you will see your son.
McKenzie and Brogan are in a better place,
do not let their time on Earth be a waste.
Think of the good times and memories made,
do not let the incident put those in the shade.
They will be looking down from noon to noon,
saying to their families, "I promise I will see you soon".
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
Tryna play pirates in the backyard, ah
bluey playing market with a credit card ah
Rusty throws sticks just to hurt you ah
Honey wears glasses just to tease you ah
None of these hounds on a lease too, ah
Turn a school year into a week too, yeah
Main doggo out of your field yea
Side dog outta yo field too, yea
Kennel so loud need some discipline
Twenty biscuits on me, made with cinnamon
Cut that bone meal into meaty pieces
Honey licks her face, man I love my doggo
You talk buckaroos need a saving space
We're playing shadow running to the shade
Switch up the game, driving in a plane
I switch My cuppy, I don't feel the pain
baa ba baa ba baa ba baa ba ba
Look what you've done!
baa ba baa ba baa ba baa ba ba
Look what you've done!
I'm the motherwoofing Stardawg
Everyday a doggo tryna test me, yah
Everyday a parent tryna end me,yah
Pull off the scooter in a school zone ah
Pocket over weight, stones heavy, yeah
Coming from the shepherd, thats a far cry
I come alive during play time
No competition I don't really listen
and just like bluey, bumping keepy uppy
Kennel so loud need some discipline
Twenty biscuits on me, made with cinnamon
Cut that bone meal into meaty pieces
Honey licks her face, man I love my doggo
You talk buckaroos need a saving space
We're playing shadow running to the shade
Switch up the game, driving in a plane
I switch My cuppy, I don't feel the pain
baa ba baa ba baa ba baa ba ba
Look what you done!
baa ba baa ba baa ba baa ba ba
Look what you done!
I'm the motherwoofing Stardawg
Let a dog play tablet
Legend of the winter, on the grind like bandit
Bought Bingo a crib and a brand new wagon
Chilli hit the grocery store looking lavish
Star trip ceiling in that house plan
Sheep get loose when the hear this song
Hundred stones on my sheep get me close to DOG
Don't pray for love we pray for candy bars
Kennel so loud need some discipline
Twenty biscuits on me, made with cinnamon
Cut that bone meal into meaty pieces
Honey licks her face, man I love my doggo
You talk buckaroos need a saving space
We're playing shadow running to the shade
Switch up the game, driving in a plane
I switch My cuppy, I don't feel the pain
baa ba baa ba baa ba baa ba ba
Look what you done!
baa ba baa ba baa ba baa ba ba
Look what you done!
I'm the motherwoofing Stardawg
baa ba baa ba baa ba baa ba ba
Look what you done!
baa ba baa ba baa ba baa ba ba
Look what you done!
I'm the motherwoofing Stardawg
Jan 15, 2025
Jan 15, 2025 at 10:47 AM UTC
McKenzie sat, the feral cat
a ginger tom, a ***** brat,
he’s on the slab, he's at the vet,
he's innocent of the threat;
as scalpel steel –prepares to lop
his precious assets – for the chop.
He smirks and thinks of bowls of cream.
An instrument now stops his dream
while measuring his body’s heat:
a gross insult to his seat
that turns his grin into a pout
as he pushes the probe out.
This wicked cat – who seems serene,
his outward visage looks so clean
external dirt can never stick,
but succumbing to his lick
it passes through that moggy’s gut
and out of an unblemished ****
The player fears the game is up
he sees the proffered poisoned cup,
now he's exposed: the ***** rat.
Dies Irae for that cat –
the stoneless subject of our mirth –
as ball-less he departs the Earth.
Dec 6, 2024
Dec 6, 2024 at 2:51 PM UTC
This isn’t Eleanor Rigby
but I still see all the lonely people.
Young man makes plans
to be better,
but it is so easy
to stop resisting
old temptations,
especially when it feels like
no one really loves you.
Why not do
what the drugs tell you to do
cause a moment of relaxation
is one moment
against a lifetime of rejections.
So, he picks the closest poison
bottles, cans, pills, powders, or joints
to do what everyone was expecting of him.
Each failure is etched in his skin.
One more lost cause to remind him
that he is a worthless piece of ****
so bad that even his dad
and mom don’t want see him.
This isn’t Father McKenzie
praying over his non-existent flock faithfully,
but I still see all the lonely people.
Crippled vet who hasn’t eaten yet
with a small cardboard sign
asks for a sandwich or a dime.
Ten blocks down the line
there is a blind man with a book bag
using his monthly check for
the cheapest hotel he can find.
Until, he runs out of money
then spends the next week and a half
sleeping on the sidewalk.
Or the old lady just off the highway
with a medium size dog,
Or the young man just of the entrance
that takes me up to the Wal-Mart
where I buy enough food to get by
throwing left overs out
at the end of the week.
At the end of the month they are all still lonely.
As am I.
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC