"oldie" poems
Hymn to an Art-o-matic Laundromat
by Michael R. Burch
after Richard Thomas Moore’s “Hymn to an Automatic Washer”
O, terrible-immaculate
ALL-cleansing godly Laundromat,
where cleanliness is next to Art
—a bright Kinkade (bought at K-Mart),
a Persian rug (made in Taiwan),
a Royal Bonn Clock (time zone Guam)—
embrace my *** in cushioned vinyl,
erase all marks: **** vaginal,
****** inkspot, red wine, dirt.
O, sterilize her skirt, my shirt,
my skidmarked briefs, her padded bra;
suds-away in your white maw
all filth, the day’s accumulation.
Make us pure by INUNDATION.
Published by The Oldie, where it was the winner of a poetry contest. This poem was inspired by the incongruence of discovering "works of art" while doing laundry at a laundromat with coin-operated washers and dryers. I was reminded of the experience while reading Richard Moore’s “Hymn to an Automatic Washer.” Keywords/Tags: hymn, art, America, Americana, laundry, laundromat, washer, dryer, appliances, clean, cleaning, cleanliness, clothes, clothing, underwear, god, godly, godliness, water, baptism, inundation, sonnet, analogy, humor
Nov 28, 2021
Nov 28, 2021 at 11:50 PM UTC
BRIAN, YOU ARE STILL A LITTLE SHY BOY, BUDDY
YOU SEE MY DAD CLOSED THE DOOR SAYING
DON’T WORRY ABOUT THE TEASING, BE LIKE ME AND MUMMY
AND WENT BACK IN AND I FOLLOWED DAD AND HE SAID
ARE YOU GETTING TEASED, BRIAN , AND I SAID, I AM TEASING YOU
CAUSE DAD, YOUR NOT LIKE US, YOUR NOT LIKE US, YA NOT LIKE US
I AM A YOUNG DUDE, AND YOU ARE A GRUMPY OLD ****
AND DAD SAID GO TO YOUR ROOM, AND I SAID NEH, I AM STILL COOL, BUDDY
DAD SAID, COOL, WHY DO YA WANT TO BE COOL FOR, BE LIKE ME AND MUMMY
OR A SHY YOUNG DUDE, AND I SAID, YOU ARE FUCKEN SHY, DAD
AND DAD GOT UP AND SAID, GO TO YOUR BLINKEN ROOM YA LITTLE SHY BOY
AND IF WE HAD LOCKS, I WILL LOCK YOU IN, I SAID WHEN YOU DIE
YOU ARE LEARNING ABOUT HOW KIDS OF TODAY ACT
DAD SAID SHUT UP, YOUR STILL A LITTLE SHY BOY
AND RAN TO HIS SEAT, AND I FOLLOWED HIM SAYING, I AM STILL NOT LEAVING YOU ALONE DAD
AND DAD SAID, GO TO YOUR ROOM YA FOOL, YA FOOL
I SAID, HIT ME HERE IN THE FACE DADDY, AND HE SAID OK AND HIT ME SQUARE IN THE FACE
AND TRIED TO RUN TO HIS SEAT, AND I FOLLOWED HIM TO HIS SEAT
SAYING, I WANT TO BE COOL, AND HE SAID COOL WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE COOL FOR
GO AWAY FOOL, DAD, SAID, AND I STUCK MY FINGER UP AT DAD, AND HE SAID
DON;T GIVE ME THOSE RITCHARD HAND SIGNALS YA FOOL YOU FLAMING FOOL
AND I SHOWED DAD MY FINGER 199 TIMES, MY BROTHER DEFENDED DAD LIKE A MANS KID WOULD
AND I STARTED A BG ARGUMENT WITH DAD SAYING, I WAS TOO COOL FOR THIS FAMILY
HE SAID, GO AWAY YA FOOL, GO AWAY FOOL, GO FOR A WALK, YA NEED TO LET OFF STEAM
I SAID, NEH, I WANT TO HAVE MY SAY, DAD YOU NEED TO LIGHTEN UP
DAD SAID, GO TO YOUR ROOM, FOOL, GO TO YOUR ROOM, YA FOOL
AND I SAID, **** OFF AWAY FROM US YOUNG DUDES, BUDDY, YOU ARE AN OLD FUCKEN KODGER
DAD SAID, GO AWAY YA FOOL, AND WENT INTO THE KITCHEN TO WIPE UP
AND I REMEMBER FOLLOWING HIM, SAYING, LISTEN TO ME, DAD I AM NOT YOUR FAVOURITE SON AM IT
HE SAID, NO, NOT IF YOU CARRY ON LIKE THIS YOUR NOT, YOUR A LITTLE SHY BOY, BUDDY
I SAID, DAD I WANT TO STAB YOU IN THE BACK, DAD SAID WHERE’S THE KNIFE
THE BIG THING WAS, WHERE’S THE KNIFE, I DIDN’T WANT TO **** DAD, HE’S FAMILY
I WAS REALLY TEASING LIKE THE COOL YOUNG DUDES DID IN THE 1980s
WHEN DAD FINISHED THAT HE RAN STRAIGHT TO HIS CHAIR
AND I FOLLOWED HIM, SAYING, YOU ARE A STUPID FATHER
HE SAID, GO AWAY FOOL, GO AWAY FOOL, LEAVE ME ALONE BRIAN, I’M A FAMILY MAN
I SAID, I HAVE COOL MATES, I DON’T NEED YOU TO SAY, YOUR LIKE ME AND MUMMY BRIAN EVERY DAY
THEN I SAID I AM COOL, DAD, DAD SAID, COOL, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE COOL FOR
WELL, NOW DAD IS DEAD, I GOT MY CHANCE TO TELL DAD THAT I WAS BEING A KID
AND NOW IT’S DAD’S TURN TO BE ONE OF DAVID AND LISA CAMPBELL’S TWINS
PAIRED WITH ROBIN WILLIAMS, THEY ARE JUST LIKE EACH OTHER
DAD, IS SOON TO BE JIMMY BARNES’S GRANDCHILD WITH ROBIN WILLIAMS
TO JOIN OLGA CHICK
HAPPY NEXT LIFE, DAD
AND LET US DUDES BURN YA OLDIE OFF WITH METHANE, TO IMPROVE YOUR NEXT EARTH BODY
BOBYE BLINKEN DAD, YA FOOL, I AM ONLY JOKING, HA HA HA HA
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 12:37 AM UTC
We danced to a new year
in the utopia of the music
and the Golden Oldie
songs of love, longing
and sorrow that live
in our lungs
and emerge unpredictably
all of a sudden from the depths
of our breath
caressing or storming full
of experiences that make us
feel who we are
and what it's all about, seize
the eternity of our lives
in the stream of our breath
which is also the breath of others
while we are completely
engrossed in our presence
Jan 3, 2023
Jan 3, 2023 at 2:10 AM UTC
You can ride on my oldie bike for free
Yesterday I called in the double price
For the spark in her eyes that I see
Mellow on inside but tinted sharp eyes
Like a ripple in the water in calm night
Moony thoughts, paper like thin ****** cuts
Her careless thoughts meet her eyes
She created words that I seldom felt
She sways her thready hair as I knelt
As this lady gently cleans the kettles
I listened to her rush, the whistle, and her lips
Like the leaves flutters over a gentle wind
On the shadow of a butterfly over the lilies
A sun inside a drizzly morning and evening glory
Like a cuckoo singing from an early winter tree
A dream passed me by unknown to her
A desirable woman, a lover, a passionate peer
A moment of clarity, a blink, a wish to be there
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC
There’s a group called “Madness”,
Play a thing called “Ska”.
Though their music’s jerky,
Suggsy is a star.
Started in the seventies,
Still are going strong.
Suggs is their lead singer,
They just can't go wrong.
Would you Adam and Eve it,
That they done so well.
If you do not like them,
You can go to Hell.
They had fifteen top tens,
In their fine career.
Cheer them on I tell you,
I’ll just have a beer.
This poem’s written in their style,
That you must have seen.
If you hadn’t noticed,
Just where have you been?
Saw them on the telly,
Just the other day.
Was a golden oldie,
Hip hip, hip, hurray!
Oh where is that policeman,
To make that cardiac arrest?
Oh I’d better not hurry,
Being peaceful is the best.
Paul Butters
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 10:04 AM UTC
You are the piano in my throat
You are the harp in my hands
You are the drum in my heart
You are the tune that understands
You are the violin in my mind
You are the theremin in my third eye
You are the whisper of an ultrasound
You are the chorus that never sings goodbye
You are the sacred note I've found
Listen, listen, listen
To your sound
O how marvelous you are
Like lightning against the sky
The music of your soul echoes
Against all of creation
Nature looks back at you
Her breeze is her hands
That comfort your anger
Her thunder is a smile
That soothes your pain
Her rain is there to
Teach you how to
Forgive yourself
Again and
Again
My sweet Music Box
You don't ever have to leave me
You will never forget how to sing
Like a bee on the seashore
Crawling towards the never ending ocean
The impossible salty sea
I will be here to guide you
Towards the light
Back to your life
Let me be your sonic boom
Let me be your favorite room
Let me wind your Music Box
So we can sing your
Favorite tune
You are the piano in my throat
You are the harp in my hands
You are the drum in my heart
You are the tune that understands
You are the violin in my mind
You are the theremin in my third eye
You are the whisper of an ultrasound
You are the chorus that never sings goodbye
You are the sacred note I've found
Know this by heart and
Listen, listen, listen
To your sound
You are the Music Box that I designed
Sing along with me
Listen to our chime
Listen to our bell
Listen to the psalm
That together we unveil
We are the sheet music of ravens
Perched like notes on wires
Across the skies as the
Sunrise inspires
Our call
We run with the magic
Of a brilliant ballad
We vibrate
We shake
We earthquake
Through it all
In between rocks
We are meteors and comets
My Music Box
We rock and roll
In this canticle
We are the original
The golden oldie
Of the galaxy
Be my anthem
I'll be your hymn
Listen, listen, listen
To your sound again
You are the piano in my throat
You are the harp in my hands
You are the drum in my heart
You are the tune that understands
You are the violin in my mind
You are the theremin in my third eye
You are the whisper of an ultrasound
You are the chorus that never sings goodbye
You are the sacred note I've found
You are the fire of a thousand choirs
You are the ecstasy
The Universe
Desires
© tHE tERRY tREE
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
yeah you did
and now you don't
'cause this furry one
pulled the carpet
on the oldie and her
smashing umbrella
and finally
took his revenge
even texted it in 140 plain
characters or less
*yeah i ate the tweety
and it made me burp but
this putty tat taught the tage*
#thehellwiththebirdie
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
I'm the quiet one
& also the outspoken one.
I'm the "gets in arguments at bars with sexist men" one.
I'm paint splatters on a white wall.
I'm spilt glitter in the carpet.
I'm hopeful in the sense that everything has to work out,
but i'm not going to actually do anything about it.
I'm a lover. Maybe too much, even.
But you probably wouldn't see it in me.
I'm stand off-ish.
I think every car on the highway is going to hit me.
I spend hours watching crime show re-runs.
I think i'm a "manic pixie dream girl"
even though I ******* hate that phrase.
I'm a wino.
I'm paranoid.
I'm reckless.
I like to do drugs that take me out of my mind.
I'm the kind of person who keeps trinkets,
such as old love notes & my high school prom ticket.
I guess I'm a hoarder of sorts.
A hoarder of nostalgia.
I'm a dreamer.
I dream way too much.
I'm the one who holds on to the good memories
& pretends like they're still there, when they're not.
I'm clueless but i'm learning
(I read that somewhere)
I'm the one who watches a movie & afterwards
pretends i'm the main character.
I'm like sour milk.
I'm a jealous person at times.
I'm a good soup maker.
I'm an even better pen pal.
I'm not good with money,
but I am good at wasting it.
I'm really good at wasting things.
I'm a great party hostess, ask anyone.
I'm a record lover, a music lover really.
I'm the one who has a "Suicide song"
and jokes about it.
I'm offensive & blunt.
I curse too much,
but I think people kind of like it.
I'm somewhat of a narcissist.
why else would I still be writing about myself?
I'm a good person.
A solid gold oldie.
I'm the girl of your dreams if you want me to be.
I'm stubborn like my father, who was in a Italian mob,
or so he says.
Which reminds me,
I have "daddy issues"
(I also ******* hate that phrase)
I'll never tell my secrets.
I'm an interrupter.
God that must be annoying.
I bite my nails. Ever since I was a kid.
I look up plane tickets & Airbnb's for fun.
I'm teaching myself French.
I usually sleep until 1pm.
I'm the oldest child, yet need my mom the most.
I'm a collector,
But nothing of value.
I'm magazine clippings & unfinished projects.
I'm bad at remembering to take my medicine.
I'm impulsive.
I'm always on the run.
A girl with a plan.
Girl, uninterrupted.
I'm just me.
Whoever that really is.
Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 12:50 AM UTC
Hell Yeah!
i Feel Like How Im supposed to be.
On this fascinating Level You Will never get to feel or see
unless youve read the outcome
unless you are a daredevil like me.
So Sensational And Powerful
I love this tweak
Its So Sad That im high
& After so much help givin
im still doing it.
But look it weakens me
when i feel alone and down
i begin to reminisce about it when im feeling negative
Then Thoughts of using rush right in
i Get the urge and feel temptation rise
then begin to fein
many thoughts of getting lit start racing in
my mind.
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 4:29 PM UTC
A raucous tone of an oldie worm gear
Sound's like a screech that torn ears
Toothed wheel and it revolving spiral, bear
The oodles of blood as the oil of fear.
The products are orderly transmitted diseases
Wrench is limited avast for every pigment of it
And to rely on its asylum, to ceases
are not enough, to cover the dirt or to omit.
Let's stave the stave of reddish fuels!
If life is a wheel and we are its axles,
Our will be done, drawn of our risksha
And let this machine covert chutzpah.
Working of two wheel with sloping square edge,
Is the next wheel with trickery on the ledge.
Our wheel has a will of its spare-part, none Midas touch
But still, this wheel will chase the chaste egg to hutch.
Be the egg of tomorrow, who's snob the chatterbox.
Uproots our machine's cheapskate who's blood are their tax.
Their waste turns to wax from the slave of fox.
It can take away everything outside of our flocks
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 7:21 PM UTC
Season of love, or so I was told.
Day of Saint Valentine, spurn my sorrow;
Dozens of red roses, bouquets of blood.
But you’re drunk as a horsefly.
Claim you’re an oldie, but only a kidult with an early retire.
Climb on the mattress pad, ruin the moment,
you could have easily slit my throat!
What’s left is only bittersweet;
I think only of the best that we could have had;
The borders we could have hiked;
And the babies that we should have had!
Now I’m cold and afraid, willing it all away.
What’s the point of writing these poems
if you’ll never read them?
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
For Berlinski
<X>
it's so true, can't believe it though,
this fact so well known, my cells fibers denied it asylum,
mocking me with a berating ****** single-cell-syllable of
shut-up
my runted eyes never spake this confess out loud
but here it is,
a silent truth rutting onto the **** mirror paper-white screen
where the pixels do my screaming pleasing easy and the
goldie oldie ***** stains, asking "you again?"
silence reverberates, like a tree falling in the forest,
the screen where I live, holy matrimony 90% of everyday
for better or worse, still crazy, the years get longer and the
the poems stretch out, ******* sag, and pseudo-crazy making me
lazy tired
no shy guy me, but the word waste of pointless,
sends me silently screaming to the bedroom where under covers
I count threads. herding words, making pleasure gutter noises,
that can only be heard by the audio surgically implanted
in a human chest, and the dust mites
*but the blunt i smoke stimulates the nervous brain system and the gibberish comes furiously fast, trying not to burn the sheets
that just were laboriously added up to soft and silky when served with a side of naked girl and discovered that I talk hugely stupid when stupid and ****** oh so common, and
the s-words cut bluntly and satrap sharp where there and when the plain sentences become bread knife sharp and the poems gestate in 9 minutes because nothing is blurred and all use Exit 74 on
the interspatial, intracellular inter-pet
fully formed, in finery, winery celebrated, spilling wine on those sheets and now I am cursed cause words are the master,
leaving me just the mature, shy crazy boy, the muted tool;
oh god, dear god - Oh GAWD!!!
please let me be still crazy till long after my
bleached bones rumble,
"boy, it is time to be in that in that valley"*
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 4:21 PM UTC
shake the oldie over
ya see i PARTY all over the town
ya know i party up and down
ya see cranky people are letting out a big frown yeah
it sounds so rad, and get out our fake hip
and throw it at people who ****** us off
partying is right, but being bad is wrong
ya haven’t had a shower, boy do ya pong
ya see as you cook the sunday roast
and mind you it’s the best roast in town
but i don’t wanna boast
the main thing to do here yeah is
shake the oldie over, that’ll be so rad
then we take this pill and say
PARTY ALL NIGHT AND INTO THE DAY
don’t let old fogies tell ya to stop
ya see we party once and we’ll party twice
and then grab a leg of nan’s sunday bird
and eat it and say it’s nice
yeah the party is beginning and the
best thing we do is shake the oldie over
and then play good samaritan and help this old person
acting all innocent oh yeah
and then as we dance in the club, oh yeah
and party to all the great songs the band played
and some songs were hip and others were just great
we got to the gate at half past 8
you see i come every day with my COKE
and say, shake the oldie over and
help her to her feet again
and say to him/her, no discipline please we just want
PARTY PARTY PARTY
shaking her and playing with her
thinking when this oldie dies, she becomes a kid again, circle of life
she’ll do it again in her next life
like joshua patrick or michelle fran or ben
we’ll party once or twice a week each year
we’ll till the end of your life dudes
shake the oldie over, to prepare her for her childhood in next life
that is what i do, come on dude, shake the oldie over
till she finds her youth in next life
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
So shameless!
Writing flippant verse
About severed body parts
And unimaginable suffering!
--
What an *** I am !
--
No
Respect!
--
For the victims!
For their families!
----
--
But wait
--
If you can't imagine the unimaginable suffering
You can't feel it!
And
Believe me
SOMEONE IS LAUGHING!
--
I think the disrespect is in the ACT OF SLAUGHTER
Not the reminder
---
The BOMB
(The ONE bomb)
Went off a long long time ago!
--
When we stopped caring for one another
when we stopped truly loving one another
When we ARMED OURSELVES
with
CALLOUSNESS
with
CYNICISM
with
GREEDINESS DISQUISED WITH WORDS SUCH AS PROSPERITY!
(And , of course
with
GUNS!)
--
So
--
OLE MC AMERICA HAD A BLAST!
(Eyi eyi oh)
AN OLDIE BUT GOODIE FROM THE PAST!
(Eyi eyi oh)
Here a corpse there a corpse
And a neighborhood full of body parts!
(OR IS THIS JUST AN ANALOGY OF OUR SCHOOLS
AND THE WAY WE TREAT THE WORLD'S CHILDREN?)
OLE MC AMERICA AND ITS FARCE
(Eyi eyi oh)
------
One gigantic
WAKE UP CALL!
If you don't wake up?
THE JOKE'S ON YOU
DONT BLAME ME
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 3:26 PM UTC
Walking on top of muddy grass I head to my car
Open my rear car door and I see shambles mountain.
Papers fall from my backpack gum wrappers sprawl out
Half-empty plastic water bottles on the floor
I throw all the trash into a white plastic bag
As I dump the filth into the bag my clothes appear
Underneath the heap of unwashed clothing
Lies a bible in the backseat of my sedan
Its blue paperback cover is bent out of shape
Crumbly creased pages fan out like clipped angel wings
The book has sunk into the grey lumpy leather
Dust coats the molded edges of the scuffed pages
I pick up the book and clean it’s raggedy cover
With the bottom of my white-t shirt, now it looks fine
Flipping through each of the old pages I wonder
Why did I leave it in the backseat of my car?
I look at the disorganized landscape and sigh
It all comes back to me as I rub on the binding
Up and down on the tattered spine, I see my church
Inside the church laying on a tabletop counter
Is the backseat bible, my hand grabs it and I leave.
Both church and daydream, the book sits softly in my hands
All of a sudden my cell-phone plays an oldie
I’m late for the movies with my friends, I close the door
Jumping into the front seat I tell them I’ll be late
My seatbelt wraps around my body clicking in
In the passenger seat I place my bible beside me
I pull out of my driveway, and drive in a new direction
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC
get more of the catalyst,
this leaves the kids less allowances,
you know the treasure trove,
its sickening hold,
our finger grow cold,
as our shadows do fold.
its a chapter too bold,
this storys too old,
you keep wanting me to do the
t plus o ld,
but ***** how many times you gonna wear an oldie.
smell that moldy,
lonely,
calling
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 4:35 PM UTC
THE ALLAN FAMILY STORY, BRIAN’S A YOUNG DUDE
YOUNG DUDES ARE PEOPLE WHO GO TO NIGHTCLUBS AND PARTY
AND THEY HAVE A LOT OF FUN, YEAH, THEY ARE CLASSED AS YOUNG ADULTS
BUT I PREFER TO CALL TWEENS KIDS, BACK IN THOSE DAYS, AND AS SOON
AS THEY TURNED 13 AND INTO *** AND MUSIC, THEY ARE YOUNG DUDES
AND THEN THEY STAY YOUNG DUDES, TILL THEY ARE 25, BUT SOMETIMES
IT NEEDS TO GET OUT THERE, YOU SEE, MY FAMILY BECAUSE
NO I DON’T TAKE DRUGS, BUT I LIKE TO PARTY, YOUNG DUDE BEHAVIOUR
I LIKE TO LISTEN TO PROPER MUSIC, YOUNG DUDE BEHAVIOUR
GOING ON THE COMPUTER, TO PLAY MUSIC YOUNG DUDE BEHAVIOUR
BUT COMPUTER GAMES IS FOR THE KIDS, I KNOW KIDS ARE YOUNGER THAN ME
BUT I ALWAYS SAY A YOUNG DUDE WILL GO OUT AND PARTY HARDY
YA KNOW, I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A KID, CAUSE I LIKE HEAVY METAL
I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE AN OLDIE EITHER, ONLY BECAUSE, I AM NOT OLD
BUT I HATE WHEN PEOPLE CONTRIDICT ME
MY VERSION OF A YOUNG DUDE IS BETTER, BECAUSE THEY DO PLAY MUSIC
AND THEY DO, GO OUT TO PARTY, IN NIGHTCLUBS
I THOUGHT MY MATES AND MY BROTHER AND DAD UNDERSTOOD THIS
I THINK LOOKING AND THINKING LIKE A YOUNG DUDE IS GOOD FOR ANY MIDDLEAGED PERSON
I DON’T WANT TO BE TREATED LIKE AN OLD FOGIE WHO WANTS TO DIE
I AM A YOUNG DUDE, AND I KNOW THE KIDS ARE SAYING THEY ARE YOUNG
WELL, YES, I NEED TO EXPLAIN MY VERSION OF A YOUNG DUDE
I THOUGHT PEOPLE KNEW WHAT I MEANT WHEN I SAID I WAS A YOUNG DUDE
BUT I MAKES ME ANGRY, I WANT TO LISTEN TO THE COORS
I WANT TO LISTEN TO HEAVY METAL, LIKE A REAL YOUNG DUDE
I DON’T WANT DAD TELLING ME TO BE A KID, NEH I WILL SAY
I LIKE WHAT I AM DOING ON YOUTUBE, AND IF THAT MAKES ME A WOOSEY
I GUESS I AM A WOOSEY, BUT I AM NOT A WOOSEY, I AM A COOL YOUNG DUDE
YOU SEE, I HAVE GROUPS LIKE MANS KID FIXES UP TO THE MEN, I AM NOT THAT, **** OFF ANYONE WHO THINKS I AM
A LADIES KID, WELL, I LIKE THAT A BIT, BUT I HATE THE SMOTHERING IT BRINGS
AN ADULT, NOT SHY TO GO TO BED, NOT ME, I SLEEP ON THE COUCH
A YOUNG DUDE BEING CREATIVE, PARTYING LISTENING TO MUSIC, THAT IS ME TO A TEE
MY YOUNG DUDE IS A STRUGGLING BUDDHIST ARTIST AND WRITER AND YOUTUBE ENTERTAINER
WHO LOVES TO PARTY
I PREFER MY YOUNG DUDE, MORE COOLER FOR ME TO PORTRAY
I HATE KIDS THINKING I AM CRAMPING THEIR STYLE
TEASE YOUR PARENTS, CAUSE I AM A COOL PERSON, BUDDY
I AM A YOUNG DUDE AND PROUD OF IT
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC
I've had a life in the arms of peace;
I've lived a life with a heart for love.
I've been content in the themes of sorrow,
And the seasons of delight.
I've seen chapters start and end.
I've completed numerous volumes,
In the ink of tears and smiles;
And moved onto sequels and new characters.
--
My story is simple and incomplete--
It isn't a tale yet, just a work in progress.
It lives in the fulfilment of my dreams;
I wish to make it a masterpiece!
I hope I succeed till my last season,
Little by little, minute by minute...
Living in the throes of vibrancy,
Without regrets and with a hint of grace.
I wish to grow into an oldie in that last winter,
With a garden full of trees, each tree a completed story.
And I hope I can remember my dreams as my life;
Even at the end, I wish for the peace of fulfilment.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
She was old and befuddled as any could see
But old or not she had still beaten me
Standing at the checkout just wanting to go
‘Will you take a cheque dear’ oldie wants to know?
Oh spare me dear lord I’ve picked the wrong queue
Has this sort of thing ever happened to you?
Fishing in her handbag ‘A card dear? Don’t know’
They must have sent me one a long time ago
Fiddling and fumbling ‘til I want to scream
Surely to god this is just a bad dream?
But no it’s real and she’s taking all day
I’m off to a party, want to be on my way
Three hours at the party goes by in a flash
Three minutes behind someone who usually pays cash
Drags like an eternity, my patience was spent
I realised this morning I shouldn’t resent
For patience is a virtue and time an illusion
T’was me not her suffered most confusion
For the faster we hurry the quicker we pave
Our path through this life, why dash to the grave?
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
Listen to the radio
Talk of war and famine
Then they play a cheery tune
From a manufactured band
Then an oldie I remember as a teen
Realise I heard it when I was 16
Life is like a highspeed train
Until it goes a miss
Then it's like a freight train crash
Then it's all a mess
But in reverence to grammar
The announcer makes it all
Sound like the weather
No emotion at all
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 6:56 PM UTC
Ring...Ring
me) That's a strange area code....Yello!
God) Hello
me) Hello, who is this?
God) It's me God, don't you recognize my voice?
me) No...
God) Hmmm...that's what I thought.
me) What do you mean by...never mind, I was just getting ready to call you!
God) Ah hello it's me....God?
me) Oh yea, I guess there's no fooling you there.
God) Not really but don't think that people don't try! Haven't seen you around in a while...
me) Well you know I'm always thinking about you...most of the time. And I listen to Christian music...some of the time. Oh and I try to read inspirational books...when I have time.
God) Isn't that nice...Hey, how are the knees holding out?
me) My knees?
God) Yes your knees or more to the point...your prayer life.
me) My prayer life? Didn't I mention I'm always thinking...
God) Yea I got that, it's just the way things have been going lately I know your worried.
me) Your not kidding there!
God) Well that's why I called, to remind you I'm still in control and everything is going to work out according to my will. You do believe that don't you?
me) Yes I believe that.
God) Then you might want to start acting like it. With all that's going on around you these days you seem to have left me out.
me) You know your right!
God) Duh...I'm God!
me) Oh yeah...
God) Hey here's a novel idea (please excuse the pun) instead of reading an inspiring book try reading THE inspired book...My Holy Word. Every thing you need in life is there.
me) That IS a novel idea! (did you say something about a pun) Thanks I'm feeling better. Hey I gotta go there's someone at the door. Can I call you later?
God) Of course...I'm always here.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
Born in desperate years of yore,
Treading down the life’s parabolic shore,
Age began to show the oldie older,
Squeezing steadily his figure n’ vigor
Whirling memories whispering
Trampling tempers whimpering
Limping movements hampering
Deteriorating organs’ pampering
Neither conjugal aid
Nor congenial maid
Either congenital raid
Or conjunctional braid
Torment of the dragging years
Accent of the nagging fears
Advent of the painful tears
Fervent of last love of dears
Ordained ordeal of orderly life,
Worsened sneaking wrinkles,
Creeks and cracks etching deeper,
Life after all, is a withering leaf.
Passing through the moments
Of the daunting dauntless days
The ultimate minute is not too far
To call it a day any day by far
And bounce back to the code of abode
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 8:25 PM UTC
it will be some time
when I leave this mortal coil behind
before they discover the sack of bones
and translucent skin
a putrid puddle of mixed blood and body decay
and this is how I will be remembered
after 65, 70...maybe 75 years of absorbing
vast amounts of sideways smiles, false nods
and scripted ******** that our daily routines
have become
it will be some time
because I will choose to die alone
so those formalities are not required on a daily basis
those lies will not come automatic
on the rare occasions when I must
endure another of my own species
I am not built for small talk, chit chat
or breeze shooting
I am a tv with a few bad pixels
a record that skips
an oldie that you never quite knew the words to
I must have been born a second later than the universe had planned
because as normal as I once believed I was
something is off
just ask any other bot that has spent more than a week with me
it will be some time
because I think I may have gotten a larger dose of DNA
that ET is adding to our OJ
perhaps a test to see what would happen if they jumped the gun a bit
say 200 years
the neighbor called it in when she saw I hadn't left for work in a few weeks
or maybe a few months
gonna be hell cleaning these wooden floors
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
good
rid
dunce
i broke it up not to pre
nounce
what does satan do when he gets ripped off by he coke deal buy an ounce
thats the exact reason why i cant fill this *****
you said only take whats given
but id rather live and deal with sinnin
so you know there is still work to be done
living life is happy when you're ******* a nun
treat her to dinner or go finger the sun
youll get burnt by either so why lose the fun
its a favor and its been for granted
lets leave her name down as planted
its stuck as tho my ink can manage
taped to my heart like a bandage
anchored to my soul ive been drowned *****
pull the ******* plug because im now damaged
finished now start as if he planned this
its temper does flare
as those lucky spineless dentures stare
im sorry to disrepute the oldie
but ***** could drive a fast in a fourty if it was for thee
to be on time
but it was for me
it was a trigger and finger that she will now never adore he
good
rid
dunce
i broke it up not to pre
nounce
what does satan do when he gets ripped off by he coke deal buy an ounce
thats the exact reason why i cant fill this when it counts
you said only take whats given
but id rather live and deal with sinnin
so you know there is still work to be done
living life is happy when you're ******* a nun
treat her to dinner or go finger the sun
youll get burnt by either so why lose the fun
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC
I might have been a yeah mate yeah kid when I was young
I visited oldies and I didn’t hang
With many cool people back then I might have been a nerd back then I liked programming computer games and I did a lot of different things
I might have been a tad different to the others but deep
Down I thought that made me cool
I mucked with my friends at school and I found it hard to muck with bullies and I liked to much with my family like playing games and watching television
And I performed in school plays
And learnt to sing songs like songs that were pretty much in the hippy age I remember mucking around at the mall being cool and I was hearing voices, well I think they were of them treating me like a nerdy yeah mate yeah kid just because I watched television with my mates and family I played basketball with my friend at the Southside basketball stadium abs had a drink afterwards I thought that was cool and I played bingo with my grandmother and my friends and even if it is an oldie thing
I was probably a bit of a geek
I might have been a bit shy at family parties where I just played cricket with dice when others were enjoying themselves and I went to concerts like from red tape and ac/dc and Bryan Adams and def Leopard and the pigs in Merimbula but I had a few social issues where I must be the coolest one there and I was I think and I teased my father sometimes but it didn’t get me far, you see I might have been a geek I might have been a nerd I might have been a yeah mate yeah kid, but I thought I was pretty cool, because I watch the footy afl and nrl and cricket and baseball and soccer and basketball I like to celebrate Christmas even if I am not a Christian, no, I am a Buddhist and I feel different from the world but it ain’t my intention though, I just believe in coming back after you die, rather than this stupid heaven bull **** and
I know they believe in nirvana and I know what goes on up there cause you can go there in dreams
I might be a geek nerd or yeah mate yeah kid, but I am a writer artist and YouTube presenter
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 6:17 AM UTC