"musta" poems
Hay naloko na
Nasira ang cellphone
Ubos na rin ang ipon
Pano na ang FB, IG at ang ibon
Sumaglit sa kanto
Internet ang dinayo
Nang may kaba sa puso
Sa pagbasa ng iyong komento
"Musta? Tara kita tayo!"
Walong pantig
Na sa aki'y nagpanginig
Ngunit saglit lang ang kilig
Bumalik kasi ang kahapong kay pait
Na muling nagpasikip sa aking dibdib
At sa wakas, tama na
Naunawaan ko na si tadhana
Sa nasirang cellphone
At ubos na ipon.
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 11:22 PM UTC
a storyteller's perspective, steppin' off the ordinary edge, into the unknown
An unsent letter lay on the rustic log cabin floor
A cold wind musta’ blown through the cracks the light comes in,
where it laid fallen, half *** crumbled, yet never a wadded ball;
never an unspoken thrown paper stone, a befallen regret was all.
Silently atilt and leaning against the canted wall's slant
behind the gathered dust a squeaky hinged burl wood door
A timeworn tarnished copper wind up clock roosted,
an old lip smirched coffee cup time stood still;
an empty bottle of gin sat near the bed post headboard
where the ink stains and blotted spillings let the memories in.
Stained pages torn and bent like fallen paper wings
returned to the unread sender … postage due, south a heaven sent ―
A sullied envelope, gnawed and mouse chewed,
for a nest of new beginnings ―
just read: Lydia ... ♡
... followed by a scribbled empty heart
The time aged brown tattered tablet paper left behind
stifled like the unread heart it holds upon the threadbare pages
of smudged tear’s ache and spilled gin
The weathered rock hearth fireplace filled with spent ashes,
hand rolled cigarette butts, traces of an aching lament;
scratched up old vinyl records lay ***** and tired out,
from a time of sweeter fallen fences, a musical bliss, and
a lost angel's abandoned red slinky party dress,
aside a busted off black velvet high-heel stuck sullied
in a hollow knothole in the ancient barn-wood floor
a sparkly pearl pink jewel entangled in a spider web
An unsent letter lay on the rustic cabin floor
A cold wind musta’ blown through the cracks the light gets in
The final unread words silently said:
*"We lost our way,
it all went wrong,
it all turned bad"
..."This is the outcome when someone you love
up and throws you away"
...“I’ll reach out from the inside
I’ll rise up again and do without”
..."You went out into the world
with an untamed hankerin’ ―
like a carefree restless gypsy breeze
and come back worlds apart"*
The Unsent Letter,
just whispered words to the dust in the wind
in quivering ink:
...*"how can I ever unremember you...?
a thrown stone sinks wordlessly as a rock...,
an old wood bucket with a rotten hole the heart,
fallen forgotten, rock bottom as an empty well"*
just signed: ... ❤ August
January 1st, 2017 ... august ... wild is the wind ♡
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 12:20 PM UTC
Who are you to wave your finger?
Ya' must have been out your head.
Eye hole deep in muddy waters,
You practically raised the dead.
Rob the grave, to snow the cradle
then burn the evidence down.
Soapbox, house of cards and glass,
so don't go tossin' your stones all around.
You must have been high.
You must have been high.
You must have been-
Foot in mouth, and head up *******
what'cha talkin' 'bout?
Difficult to dance 'round this one
'til you pull it out, boy;
You must have been so high.
You must have been so high.
Steal, borrow, refer, save your shady inference.
kangaroo done hung the juror with the innocent.
Now you're weeping shades of cozened indigo
Got lemon juice up in your EYE!
When you ****** all over my black kettle
You must have been HIGH, HIGH
You must have been HIGH, HIGH
Who are you to wave your finger, so full of it?
Eyeballs deep in muddy waters, fuckin' hypocrite.
Liar, lawyer, mirror; show me:
What's the difference?
kangaroo done hung the guilty with the innocent.
Now you'll weep
or change the cozened indigo;
got lemon juice up in your high-eye,
when you ****** all over my black kettle
You musta been!
So who are you to wave your finger?
Who are you to wave your fatty fingers at me?
You must, have been, out your, mind!
Weepin' shades of indigo
shed without a reason
weepin' shades of indigo
Liar, lawyer, Mirror for ya,
what's the difference?
kangaroo be ******
he's guilty as the government
Now, will you weep
or, change the cozened indigo;
got lemon juice up in your, EYE!
EYE!
Now when you ****** all over my black kettle.
You musta been HIGH, HIGH, HIGH, HIGH.
Eyeballs deep in muddy waters
Your ***** deep in muddy waters;
***** p-lease!
You must have been out your
MIND!
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 5:03 AM UTC
Honesty is a naked truth standing
in the middle of a clear desert
on a pale moon night
with skin the color of temperature,
eyes the depth of oceans,
a glass of whisky in one hand
and an invitation to forgiveness in the other.
Let's be honest.
I'm your Get Well card.
I musta got lost in the mail but I'm here now.
Follow my instructions.
Now it's your turn-
be my acceptance letter.
Be my eleventh birthday wish.
Be my lifetime supply of ego boosts.
Be my church bell, be my armor,
be my ****
I've got a few decades left
and I was kinda lookin' for somebody to spend 'em with.
Let's burn calendars like the universe burns stars.
Without reason.
You'll find a lot objects in this galaxy get struck by meteors.
Lucky for you, all my ugly's on the surface.
Get past that
and you're good.
The whisky is for celebration.
The invitation is BYOB.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 1:01 AM UTC
Coca-cola has the taste you never get tired of, always refreshing, thats why things go better with coke after coke after joke
Is this a joke
Cola-Coke
I musta mispoke
Coke.
Blow your smoke
and my heart evoke
Mr. Coke
Mr. Coke
Strong as an oak
I swear, you tryna provoke
I’m being short-changed
Changed by the pain
of empty wallets and weight gain
Is this the dope or just coke in my
Brain veins
Cause I swear e’re time it rains
I get a little bit stickier
with that sugar sweet
fresh, ahhhhh
taste you just can’t beat
Without a drink
my meal ain’t complete
I trick or treat
for that bittersweet
flavor that makes my heart wanna beat
Say bye, wave hi to e’re passerby that I meet
I’m incomplete
Is what they want me to think
And so i drink
I drink and I'm
filled
I drink and I’m
thrilled
Just to be a little part in their bigger party
Seein only things that they want me to see
I nod to agree
I read the marquee
Lock down and guarantee
But I’m still nobody
Nobody to you
and nobody to me
and now I see
they WANT me to spend money
But I’ll spell it out for you
M-O-N-E-(WHY)
do I buy things
I feel a certain way
Why do I buy things
I had a bad day
I think I buy cause I’m worthess
gotta validate and purchase my purpose
And coke’s throwin me inna circus
of life, liberty and the pursuit of happy times
But it's hard to pay your way with nickels and dimes
but I can refund this bottle for 5 cents
or break it, and it be my defense
How does that make sense
Now I’m on the fence
Do I buy another bottle
or a six-pack for the road
I don’t really know
when it comes to cola-coke
coca-cola
sugar sweet
can’t be beat
Will that be debit or credit
Our chip reader doesn’t work
See you tomorrow
Mr. Coke
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 1:54 AM UTC
.
these are things that make me Sad:..
imagining how sad that Powder must be...
...after Labor day.
imagining how sad rabecca Black must be...
...on Wednesday.
imagining how sad quasiModo would be...
...in Gattaca.
imagining how sad rosie oDonnel would be...
...in Ethiopia.
imagining how sad benjamin Button woulda been..
...in Neverland.
imagining how sad sleeping Beauty would be...
...finally waking Up........n seeing meDusa.
imagining how scared free ***** must be...
...of sunshine aQuarium.
imagining how scared jimmy Neutron would be...
...in sleepy Hollow.
imagining how scared that Pingping musta been...
...of Sultan.
imagining how scared that Avatars woulda been...
...of ******
imagining how scared that Petrified wood would be...
...of paul Bunyan. (Dumb xD)
imagining how scared
six jodie Fosters would be
in a Panic room with seven Hannibals.
imaging how bad trig Palin would be...
...at Trigonometry. (too Much..)
imagining how bad epiLeptic children are...
...at Laser tag.
imagining how bad steven Hawking would be...
...at Roller derby.
imagining how bad that Rainman woulda been...
...at Rain dancing.
imaginging how bad helen Keller woulda been...
...at Karaoke.
imagining how bad desiree Jennings musta been...
...at Hopscotch.
imaginging how effortlessly,
robin willams was Acting...
...in will Hunting.
too Soon?...
...Oh........Sorry.
"Thats okay...
...its not your Fault."
Thanks babe.
.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC
me and cuz are gettin stove-piped
by three ripe, early-eyed airborne minds
me and cuz are flappin just right.
sharp turn on that slippy turnpike.
I spy twisted steel, cuz musta lied-
bottle kneck, open backpack, plastic bag.
guess cuz was 'fraid of a gun fight,
wid a seatbelt stained red on both sides.
me and cuz got us stove-piped.
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 8:02 PM UTC
He's always there, filling my mind full of lies, lies I want to hear, drawing me near, paralyzing my soul with fear.
These sick thoughts are not my own, born from a mind that is not mine, but a wickedness of the unholy divine.
Suddenly stricken with the realization that these very lines shouldn't be written, like a vampire victim I've been bitten.
Another lie!
This was meant to set the record straight, to put you in your place, the world should know your not supposed to be common place.
I will not be fooled, nor cower, thats for cowards, I'm stronger than you today, nothing you say will take away the peace that I can have today.
So bring your army of sinners and demons, from very beginning you musta been dreamin, so hears to our victory, we've already won, and just like this stanza your already done.....
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC
I don't know where to start... I feel plane
infinite points traced around my brain.
Many ticks ***** injustice migraines
Right now I wanna vent on hot air blimps
self proclaimed pimps
till my tongue twists limp
or turn a loaded gun on immature mutual funds
my grain is rough
and I've grown bitter an tough
my mind metal is scuffed
I Dizzied my Gills be cheeks blowin up guts
what happened to the wonderful world
musta been the Tea.. now I'm Ralphing up Chucks
high society
in memory
it used to be
where I wanted to be
Visa Via
English living was the life for me
guess I'd traded up for some Hot **** reaL-It-Tea
I think I've had enough
guess I stuffed and over fluffed
had too much empty v (MTV)
sipping on that 4 twin Tea
Now I gotta V!
I vibrate so viciously
I violate all variations of conform Ahh!, Tea
Been too long slipping on and spilt ma Chi
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC
Nursree-Rhymed-Rap
you got yer Jack be nimble
you got yer Jack be quick
you got yer Jack jumpin over a candle stick
he jumped so high
he almost touched the sky
you see he burnt his nads
and it made him cry
you got yer 3 little pigs
you got yer Goldilocks
you got yer big bad wolf dumber than a fox
he huffed and puffed
and took a big hit
and they all joined hands
they were smokin some ****
you got yer Little Red
you got yer 3 brown bears
sippin on soup and sittin in chairs
Red danced on the table
yeah she danced really good
the bears gave her money
to see what was under the hood
you got yer Jack and Jill
you got yer buckle my shoe
climbin that hill what they gonna do
Jack played pattycake
according to rumours
trying to get inside
of little Jill's bloomers
you got yer Little Miss Muffet
you got yer itsy bitsy spider
he made a big mistake sitting down beside her
inside her purse
she kept a can of Raid
she drenched his ****
and now he's daid
you got yer hey ****** ******
you got yer dish and spoon
you got yer old spotted cow jumpin over the moon
there's Humpty Dumpty
and the fiddling cat
the little dog laughed
to see Jack Sprat splat
you got yer round the rosey
you got yer ba black sheep
pullin the wool over yer eyes as you sleep
****** ****** dumplin
so what is my point
whoever wrote these riddles
musta been smokin a joint
Gomer LePoet ....
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 10:02 AM UTC
Sabi na eh
Kahit anong gawin natin
O kahit wala tayong gawin
Mauuwi sa ganito ang lahat
Lagi mo silang pipiliin
At lagi mo akong iiwan
Ngunit kung ganunpaman
Nais ko pa ring malaman mo
Matagal ko nang nakita
Ang taong para sakin
Yung nga lang
Hindi sya nakalaan sakin
IKAW YUN.
Ikaw yung una sa lahat
Unang kilig
Unang lambing
Unang kirot saking dibdib
Ikaw yung hinanap ko
Sa piling ng iba
Kaya hindi naging tugma
At nauwi rin sa wala
Ikaw yung hinayaan kong mawala
Dahil alam kong may iba pang magpapaligaya sayo
Dahil alam kong hindi ako magiging sapat
Subalit umasa pa rin ako
Sa mga "gudmornings at gudnights"
Sa mga "musta ka at whats for lunch"
Sa mga "work kn at ingat pag uwi"
Kagaya ng pag-asa
Sa pagpatak ng ulan sa tag-init
Sa init ng araw sa panahon ng ulan
Sa presidente para maging disente
Haaaayyyy
Hindi bale na
Ganun talaga eh
Hirap kalaban ni tadhana
Naiisip ko na ngang humingi ng tulong
Kay Thor ng Avengers
Kay Superman at Batman
Kay Ding at Darna
Pero kagaya nila
Alam ko at alam mo
Na itong merong TAYO
Ay isang pantasya lang.
Jul 29, 2020
Jul 29, 2020 at 4:43 AM UTC
I said
HEY
**** BEARER
HURRY UP
WITH THE CLEANING
THERE'S DISHES NEEDIN TO GET DONE !
...
And
I GOT SOME FRIENDS COMIN OVER
SO REST UP
SOME OF EM MIGHT BE HORNEY
AND THEY LIKE YA
SO BE READY--
----
She said
Ya know
I'm gettin tired a this!
I ain't gonna take it for more than
Another decade or two!
--
GEEZ
I said
Ya musta been readin them liberated
Kids on hello poetry!
They only take abuse two
Maybe three
Years at most
Before movin on ta
Another abuser !
She started cryin
Said she wouldn't read it any more
And begged for forgiveness
I didn't give her none
It woulda just confused her
Bein a mere
**** bearer
Ya know
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 9:15 PM UTC
Before you judge me, Let me tell you my life story
I sure hope its not boring
In middle school
i was the little fool
getting beat up in the bathroom for being to critical
What, you think my remarks are too cynical
Hey squidward tentacles, you got a big nose, want me to break it
no you must be mistaken
so they beat me up and striped me naked, and left me shaking
thank god they left my clothes in the next stall
woulda been pretty awkward walking **** in the hall
But this was just the fall, haven't mentioned winter or spring at all
So from sixth to eighth grade you could see the bruises on my face
from where those jerks tried to tell me that that was their place
one day in art class i was painting on the paper
when some guy sitting behind me shot me with a stapler
Now if my mind had been stabler I woulda let it slide
but i was crazy back then so i tried to fight
punched em in the head, he musta been high
cuz he didn't flinch at all not a single inch
he grabbed me by my hair and threw me down
started punching me in the face like a ticked off Chris Brown
Now there is nothing you can do to wipe off this frown
Ive been a sociopath ever since that day
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
Woke up this morning I was tired as hell, decided I would sit in the garden and dwell,
On the last weekend of pubs and clubs,when my ears picked up this feeble buzz,
Now usually the buzzin’ is my bassbox boomin’ but my bassbox bins were still back in my room,
Looked at my feet and to my surprise was a big bumblebee who’d fallen from the skies,
He looked worn out,torn up up,but still a lil’ fighter, musta gotten separated from the rest of his flight yeah,
So I remembered a tale taught by my mum,how to get a tired bee back to buzzin and hummin,
Put some salt and some water in a little saucer,and watch him build up his strength like a sorcerer,
But I decided to add my own twist to the game,so the Manuka honey,out she came,
Put a little dose of each in the saucer on the ground,so I could help the lil’ fella start buzzin around.
Helped him over the lip of the saucer quick,he looked about done in til he gave it a sip,
Then like popeye with spinach he started to swell,comin’ hummin like a trooper from the gates of hell,
From close to the end he was like Zip Zing!,floatin’ like a butterfly,ready to sting,
He took off and flew around all my ma’s fresh roses,full of beans, lookin mean striking Irish bee poses,
Then he landed on my hand but not to sting me up,
Took a little Bee bow then rose right up,
And I coulda swore I heard a voice hummin out to me,
"Thanks man you really helped out this busy bee",
He floated like a butterfly off my hand ready to sting if needed on the flowers he lands,
Then I gave him a wave and went on my way, and started the bee- ginnings of my own busy day.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
I
Momma tucked us in tonight
and wrapped the blanket close
to our faces.
"Stay warm, my children,
My babies, my onlies."
She sang us a lullaby.
There in her pretty honey voice
She told us of goblins with
faces scrunched up like lemons
And leprechauns scratching their
bitty green hats
as they looked for their pots of gold.
Momma sang about dragons
who breathed fire as red as her hair.
The dragons musta been real, ‘cause
I thought I heard some people running
Up above us.
I made sure to tell Momma
that they were up past their bed time.
Then she kissed us,
my little brother and I,
on our foreheads-
Peck, peck.
And we said our prayer
as Momma closed her eyes and laid on our
feet.
*Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray thee lord, my soul to keep.
And if I die before I wake
I pray thee lord, my soul to take.
Amen.*
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 4:50 PM UTC
"- M’ha boots -"
A blind gal stole m’ah boots today
jus' up n carried dem away ,,,,,, “musta bin blind !”
a’h was drunk a’h guess
a’h musta bin
was outta m’ah head
on moonshine gin,
A’h was Laid in ‘d gutter
a honkin down
when th’ gal crept up
a thief renown
n had dem away on her dam toes
jus m’ah luck;
a’h do suppose, ,,,,“musta bin blind !,, musta bin !”
D’a boots were nearly
ten year old
jeeezus man d’ey were
covered in mould, !!
m’ah toe poked out
d’a left hand boot
n made m’a feet stink
like - an old cheroot,
A’h guess she was no sweet south belle,
but she sure was blind-
whid no sense ‘o smell.
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 2:40 PM UTC
for Beau
this mixte bag of nutty facts,
compote of this's and that's,
fragrant but yucky tasting potpourri,
sordid assortment of
seemingly unseemly
random collection of
facts, whoppers,
recipes and formulae, and his 'n her
stories (my fav!)
useless motorized drivel,
running around my head
that you have with me creme-filled,
data conglomerated,
transformed by mongol hordes of grey cells
urged on, nay transformed,
by **** and beer into
a magnificent miscellaneous mile of jumble,
virtuous and verifiable grab bag of
ever so humble,
tuneful melodies of a medley of
snatches and patches
of Jagger and Liszt,
a verifiable pastiche of
vital and downright dumb
Factors and Factoids,
I thank you suchly muchly
musta taken years, maybe even
decades to collect and codify,
this assemblage of verifiable factoids,
after-all, took you twelve to
feed me in eye dropper ingestible quantities!
though with Wiki this and Wiki that,
I coulda save us all some time,
and since it is all on the Internet,
and any way 99% I forgot
like a cell phone number
no matter, I can reads and counts
and writes term papers downloaded,
but caught my eye you wrote
of a mutton stew denominated as
hotchpotch,
but we variant truants,
ici, aux Etats-Unis, on dit
and spell our salmagundi as
hodgepodge
but in summary summation,
thanks for teaching me creative thinking,
for without this skill,
I would but be,
a tool
of Wikipedia
and not its creator
P.S. It's gadzooks,
not gad zooks,
according to Wikitionary,
even them Oxford fellas agree,
tee hee,
you could look it up
on the internetsky,
Teach....
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 5:50 AM UTC
Nursree-Rhymed-Rap
you got yer Jack be nimble
you got yer Jack be quick
you got yer Jack jumpin over a candle stick
he jumped so high
he almost touched the sky
you see he burnt his nads
and it made him cry
you got yer 3 little pigs
you got yer Goldilocks
you got yer big bad wolf dumber than a fox
he huffed and puffed
and took a big hit
and they all joined hands
they were smokin some ****
you got yer Little Red
you got yer 3 brown bears
sippin on soup and sittin in chairs
Red danced on the table
yeah she danced really good
the bears gave her money
to see what was under the hood
you got yer Jack and Jill
you got yer buckle my shoe
climbin that hill what they gonna do
Jack played pattycake
according to rumours
trying to get inside
of little Jill's bloomers
you got yer Little Miss Muffet
you got yer itsy bitsy spider
he made a big mistake sitting down beside her
inside her purse
she kept a can of Raid
she drenched his ****
and now he's daid
you got yer hey ****** ******
you got yer dish and spoon
you got yer old spotted cow jumpin over the moon
there's Humpty Dumpty
and the fiddling cat
the little dog laughed
to see Jack Sprat splat
you got yer round the rosey
you got yer ba black sheep
pullin the wool over yer eyes as you sleep
****** ****** dumplin
so what is my point
whoever wrote these riddles
musta been smokin a joint
Gomer LePoet ....
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 10:44 PM UTC
Jagged little pill
cigarette
wannabe
days like these
smudge
your lipstick.
truth is-
don't like the ******
like it hard,
hard I like.
Rough.
Big.
Men.
Make you eat it
don't mind
long as I can
top it
**** your life up
**** sandwich
put mustard all over
clover sprouts
salt- pepper
say you hate it
musta ****** up
whip cream queen
dazzle delight
raspberry rhubarb
jam
make me feel things
faster
**** ****
french fries at midnight
brown beers
falafel *****
dynasty drunks
swear you're the one
only one
jive to my beast
keep up my
********
eat me out
for hours-
Love you.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
I got this idea I'd write you a poem,
One you could read sitting safely at home,
Or keep with you, out and about while you roam.
Some kind of impassioned ballad,
Celebrating all the things I held sacred,
A mirror to illuminate this sky that I’ve painted.
So I laced up my heart, and I shrugged on my soul,
I popped open my noggin, and I went for a stroll,
Right down Memory Lane, and left at the Rabbit Hole.
I kept on 'til I hit a velvet rope with posts of brass,
But I musta gotten too close to the bulletproof glass,
'Cause a big grumpy guard threw me out on my...
I realized, still rolling, it's all one massive museum,
Motionless memories mummified so I can keep 'em,
Lined up and locked away, as if they could be stolen.
Arduously ordered—organized for instant access,
A mental palace fit to make Sherlock get jealous,
That Dewey Decimal dude's got nothin' on this.
The slides replay every minute on the minute,
Time-compressed, Tetrised-in, so each moment fits,
Laser light shows engraving insignias inside my eyelids.
Tear-rusty gears grinding waterlogged cogs in reverse,
This melancholy machine, made to reflect you in verse,
Portrays a planetarium, perpetually projecting my universe.
Apr 20, 2021
Apr 20, 2021 at 5:43 AM UTC
one time I was thinking about money.
and it was late at night.
I don't remember what I was thinking
oh yea I had just started this new business
get rich quick scheme
pyramid of sorts
and I was planning and plotting
planning and plotting on how I would make hundreds of
thousands of dollars
by the end of the year
I couldn't sleep
it must of been
well past midnight
I had taken in a woman
a homeless woman
we made a whole day out of it
smoked synthetic marijana
she was coming down off of herione
and I couldn't sleep .
I went to CVS
to buy
nyquil
so I could sleep
in my bed
back home
next to this beautiful creature I had brought home.
we prayed that day
and cried
together
I was thinking so hard about that money
I went into the CVS
i had no shoes on ,
snobbishly
I picked my items
and I was thinking so hard
about that money.
the guy .
the guy at the counter runs my card
and it won't go though
the outrage I thought
I was thinking so hard about that money
I musta had like a couple dollars in my bank,
I had spent it all
on that synthetic marijuana.
but I was snoobish
and thinking hard about that money,
and he started to look faint
and I swear my glare didn't change ,
my face remained the same
emotionless
and I was thinking so hard about that money
it was well past midnight
and I was thinking so hard about that money
he started to get white
and my expression remained the same
and I was thinking so hard about that money
and he stumbled from behind the counter
he didn't look so good
it was well past midnight
and I was thinking so hard about that money
and then he got sick
and my expression didn't change
and my card wouldn't go through
and nobody cared.
and I was thinking so hard about that money,
and I wanted to steal those items,
and I was outraged that my card didn't go through
and I didn't help him,
I still can't believe I didn't help him,
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
Dear Grandpa,
Nanna told me all about it.
The smell of ******
smoke and screams.
Bandoliers falling in all directions
with grenades honoring the occasion.
And the story of you,
And how you became confetti.
It’s been so many years,
the smell of barbecue
smoke and laughter reign now.
Kids run in all directions
And balloons join the celebration.
March 25th is a holiday now.
Nanna always brings a million memories.
She says she has to feed them,
because if she don’t
they’ll eat her up.
So she tells us stories about you.
I heard you even fought Victor Charlie.
Musta been one gnarly son of a *****
because I heard he won.
But don’t apologize.
When I was eight, my momma
told me I should be proud of you
because you put up a fight.
When Nanna was 25,
Two slender men in uniform
made their way onto the front porch,
knocked on the door,
And told her the same thing.
She sat on the porch for years
Waiting for you.
But the Rolling Stones don’t roll no more,
crickets don’t sing,
and Nanna’s rocking chair is retired.
Your grandson likes to play on it,
But we don’t want him to break it.
He's a curious little grunt,
so I tell him stories.
“Once, your great grandpa dodged a bullet.”
I tell him
“it went right past his God **** ear.”
He stops me and asks
The same question I asked my father.
But Pa, what's faster than a bullet?
Nothin'.
-a.m
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 4:32 PM UTC
Dad went down to the corner store
For smokes.
He caught the first thing smoking out of the vicinity.
Left his old steel lighter sitting on the chair
Still stting there
Faithfull as a tick hound.
Guess he could see his options shrinking
So I figure that **** got pop to thinking..
Pop musta rolled snake eyes and went west with the
Urge by the way that the crow flys.
All that I know is he's ashole and elbows
A track star in training.no grass under his feet.
Dad you are a gent and a scholar.
And if your ever in town just give me a hollar. NOT.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC