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Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaay?
Proputty, proputty, proputty--that's what I 'ears 'em saay.
Proputty, proputty, proputty--Sam, thou's an *** for thy paains:
Theer's moor sense i' one o' 'is legs, nor in all thy braains.

Woa--theer's a craw to pluck wi' tha, Sam; yon 's parson's 'ouse--
Dosn't thou knaw that a man mun be eather a man or a mouse?
Time to think on it then; for thou'll be twenty to weeak.
Proputty, proputty--woa then, woa--let ma 'ear mysen speak.

Me an' thy ******, Sammy, 'as been a'talkin' o' thee;
Thou's bean talkin' to ******, an' she bean a tellin' it me.
Thou'll not marry for munny--thou's sweet upo' parson's lass--
Noa--thou 'll marry for luvv--an' we boath of us thinks tha an ***.

Seea'd her todaay goa by--Saaint's-daay--they was ringing the bells.
She's a beauty, thou thinks--an' soa is scoors o' gells,
Them as 'as munny an' all--wot's a beauty?--the flower as blaws.
But proputty, proputty sticks, an' proputty, proputty graws.

Do'ant be stunt; taake time. I knaws what maakes tha sa mad.
Warn't I craazed fur the lasses mysen when I wur a lad?
But I knaw'd a Quaaker feller as often 'as towd ma this:
"Doant thou marry for munny, but goa wheer munny is!"

An' I went wheer munny war; an' thy ****** coom to 'and,
Wi' lots o' munny laaid by, an' a nicetish bit o' land.
Maaybe she warn't a beauty--I niver giv it a thowt--
But warn't she as good to cuddle an' kiss as a lass as 'ant nowt?

Parson's lass 'ant nowt, an' she weant 'a nowt when 'e 's dead,
Mun be a guvness, lad, or summut, and addle her bread.
Why? for 'e 's nobbut a curate, an' weant niver get hissen clear,
An' 'e maade the bed as 'e ligs on afoor 'e coom'd to the shere.

An' thin 'e coom'd to the parish wi' lots o' Varsity debt,
Stook to his taail thy did, an' 'e 'ant got shut on 'em yet.
An' 'e ligs on 'is back i' the grip, wi' noan to lend 'im a shuvv,
Woorse nor a far-welter'd yowe: fur, Sammy, 'e married for luvv.

Luvv? what's luvv? thou can luvv thy lass an' 'er munny too,
Maakin' 'em goa togither, as they've good right to do.
Couldn I luvv thy ****** by cause 'o 'er munny laaid by?
Naay--fur I luvv'd 'er a vast sight moor fur it: reason why.

Ay, an' thy ****** says thou wants to marry the lass,
Cooms of a gentleman burn: an' we boath on us thinks tha an ***.
Woa then, proputty, wiltha?--an *** as near as mays nowt--
Woa then, wiltha? dangtha!--the bees is as fell as owt.

Break me a bit o' the esh for his 'ead, lad, out o' the fence!
Gentleman burn! what's gentleman burn? is it shillins an' pence?
Proputty, proputty's ivrything 'ere, an', Sammy, I'm blest
If it isn't the saame oop yonder, fur them as 'as it 's the best.

Tis'n them as 'as munny as breaks into 'ouses an' steals,
Them as 'as coats to their backs an' taakes their regular meals,
Noa, but it 's them as niver knaws wheer a meal's to be 'ad.
Taake my word for it Sammy, the poor in a loomp is bad.

Them or thir feythers, tha sees, mun 'a bean a laazy lot,
Fur work mun 'a gone to the gittin' whiniver munny was got.
Feyther 'ad ammost nowt; leastways 'is munny was 'id.
But 'e tued an' moil'd issen dead, an' 'e died a good un, 'e did.

Loook thou theer wheer Wrigglesby beck cooms out by the 'ill!
Feyther run oop to the farm, an' I runs oop to the mill;
An' I 'll run oop to the brig, an' that thou 'll live to see;
And if thou marries a good un I 'll leave the land to thee.

Thim's my noations, Sammy, wheerby I means to stick;
But if thou marries a bad un, I 'll leave the land to ****.--
Coom oop, proputty, proputty--that's what I 'ears 'im saay--
Proputty, proputty, proputty--canter an' canter awaay.
Qualyxian Quest Dec 2022
The godawful ugliness
Of so many American towns
Grey day blues
Not a single beautiful building in sight

Basketball to me is American hope
Canadian invention
Eurostep
We should have eloped

I also like Asian food
Kim Chi
Summer rolls
miso soup

Ja Morant on the break
Jokic with the lob
One hand, with authority
Alley Oop Oop Oop, Oop Oop!
JoJo Nguyen Nov 2016
I'm down with OOP
You down with OOP?
Yeah you know me

Somewhere before
the code was
the Word and
the Word was
the Class and
the Class was
the Word

In the beginning
the Word named
the Class God and
called an instance
ourUniverse

This is ourUniverse
There are many like it,
but this one is ours
ourUniverse is our best friend
It is ourLife
We must master it as we
must master ourLife

There maybe many
other parallel instances
but ours is our favorite no
butts about it

Yeah you know we
Who's down with OPP?
We're down with OOP
Happy Thanksgiving!
Wheer 'asta bean saw long and mea liggin' 'ere aloan?
Noorse? thoort nowt o' a noorse: whoy, Doctor's abean an' agoan;
Says that I moant 'a naw moor aale; but I beant a fool;
*** ma my aale, fur I beant a-gawin' to break my rule.

Doctors, they knaws nowt, fur a says what 's nawways true;
Naw soort o' koind o' use to saay the things that a do.
I 've 'ed my point o' aale ivry noight sin' I bean 'ere.
An' I 've 'ed my quart ivry market-noight for foorty year.

Parson 's a bean loikewoise, an' a sittin' ere o' my bed.
"The amoighty 's a taakin o' you to 'isen, my friend," a said,
An' a towd ma my sins, an' s toithe were due, an' I gied it in hond;
I done moy duty boy 'um, as I 'a done boy the lond.

Larn'd a ma' bea. I reckons I 'annot sa mooch to larn.
But a cast oop, thot a did, 'bout Bessy Marris's barne.
Thaw a knaws I hallus voated wi' Squoire an' choorch an' staate,
An' i' the woost o' toimes I wur niver agin the raate.

An' I hallus coom'd to 's choorch afoor moy Sally wur dead,
An' 'eard 'um a bummin' awaay loike a buzzard-clock ower me 'ead,
An' I niver knaw'd whot a mean'd but a thowt a 'ad summut to saay.
An' I thowt a said what a owt to 'a said, an' I coom'd awaay.

Bessy Marris's barne! tha knaws she laaid it to mea.
'Siver, I kep 'um, I kep 'um, my lass, tha mun understond;
I done moy duty boy 'um, as I 'a done boy the lond.

But Parson a cooms an' a goas, an' a says it easy an' freea:
"The amoighty 's taakin o' you to 'issen, my friend," says 'ea.
I weant saay men be loiars, thaw summun said it in 'aaste;
But 'e reads wonn sarmin a weeak, an' I 'a stubb'd Thurnaby waaste.

D' ya moind the waaste, my lass? naw, naw, tha was not born then;
Theer wur a boggle in it, I often 'eard 'um mysen;
Moast loike a butter-bump, fur I 'eard 'um about an' about,
But I stubb'd 'um oop wi' the lot, an' raaved an' rembled 'um out.

Keaper's it wur; fo' they fun 'um theer a-laaid of is' faace
Down i' the woild 'enemies afoor I coom'd to the plaace.
Noaks or Thimbleby--toaner 'ed shot 'um as dead as a naail.
Noaks wur 'ang'd for it opp at 'soize--but *** ma my aale.
Dubbut loook at the waaaste; theer warn't not feead for a cow;
Nowt at all but bracken an' fuzz, an' loook at it now--
Warn't worth nowt a haacre, an' now theer 's lots o' feead,
Fourscoor yows upon it, an' some on it down i' seead.

Nobbut a bit on it 's left, an' I mean'd to 'a stubb'd it at fall,
Done it ta-year I mean'd, an' runn'd plow thruff it an' all,
If godamoighty an' parson 'ud nobbut let ma aloan,--
Mea, wi haate hoonderd haacre o' Squoire's, an' lond o' my oan.

Do godamoighty knaw what a's doing a-taakin' o' mea?
I beant wonn as saws 'ere a bean an yonder a pea;
An' Squoire 'ull be sa mad an' all--a' dear, a' dear!
And I 'a managed for Squoire coom Michaelmas thutty year.

A mowt 'a taaen owd Joanes, as 'ant not a 'aapoth o' sense,
Or a mowt a' taaen young Robins--a niver mended a fence:
But godamoighty a moost taake mea an' taake ma now,
Wi' aaf the cows to cauve an' Thurnaby hoalms to plow!

Loook 'ow quoloty smoiles when they seeas ma a passin' boy,
Says to thessen, naw doubt, "What a man a bea sewer-loy!"
Fur they knaws what I bean to Squoire sin' fust a coom'd to the 'All;
I done moy duty by Squoire an' I done moy duty boy hall.

Squoire 's i' Lunnon, an' summun I reckons 'ull 'a to wroite,
For whoa 's to howd the lond ater mea that muddles ma quoit;
Sartin-sewer I bea, thot a weant niver give it to Joanes,
Naw, nor a moant to Robins--a niver rembles the stoans.

But summun 'ull come ater mea mayhap wi' 'is kittle o' steam
Huzzin' an' maazin' the blessed fealds wi' the Divil's oan team.
Sin' I mun doy I mun doy, thaw loife they says is sweet,
But sin' I mun doy I mun doy, for I couldn abear to see it.

What atta stannin' theer fur, an' doesn bring me the aale?
Doctor 's a 'toattler, lass, an a's hallus i' the owd taale;
I weant break rules fur Doctor, a knaws naw moor nor a floy;
*** ma my aale, I tell tha, an' if I mun doy I mun doy.
My bed verlang na ewewig
En kantel as ek lê, My arm kweek ń
onwrikbare
Verlange na ń glimlag wat
Daarteen druk en Selfs nou en dan
Speels byt.
Die ysere
Koue wat
Dwing om
In my oop
Arms te
Kom rus.

My kat spin hard op my bors,
Duidelik in haar skik met die
Wete dat sy,
vir nou
Op jou geresserveerde kussing
Kan lê
En met
Daardie
Wete
Verlekker
Sy haarself
In my
Ellende

Die leemte hier is groter as net die Dubbelbed oop spasie op my
Queensize bed en die lieflike geeste wat deur my arms gly
En giggel
Want ek
Wag vir
Iets wat
Dalk nie
Kom nie

Dalk is dit beter so, want as jy my innerlike konflik ook soos ń kakofonie
Van dromme
Teen die mure van jou koglea kon voel dans, was hierdie leemte nog
Meer leeg
As ooit
Tevore
En sou
My contact
List net
Soos my bed
Geraak het...

Die wind wat deur my hartskrake seifer,
Fluister jou naam
En flankeer met
My gevoelens....
Hiers ń spasie oop
Spesiaal vir jou...
Mnr _.

-ń tipofrafiese voorbeeld
Van digterlike vryheid
Verwar vir menslike
Eensaamheid...
Adriaan Harms Oct 2014
In my droom wereld...

Daar, in die verte, is n bed vir as ek moeg raak.
n Berg wat ek gebruik as n kuns muur.
En n oop veld vol rose.

Bo my, die blou lug met reen druppels wat val, maar wat nie nat maak nie.
My gedagtes wat rond sweef.
musiek wat gehoor word maar nie gesien word nie.
En dan, jy.

n Bed vir my en jou.
Jou naam op die berg met klippe, gevorm soos harte, gepak.
n Oop veld rose wat jou emosie kleur wys.

Reen druppels wat val, wys my jou trane.
My gedagtes wat vir jou wys *** spesiaal jy is vir my.
Musiek om als te laat kalmeer.
En jy, vir my om lief te he, sonder om te stres oor wat jy sal **** of se as jy weet jy is die een wat ek wil he.
woolgather Jun 2016
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
In a sea of regrets and torture.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
The anchor's too heavy.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
Hold my hand and lift me up.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
Just save me from my seas.
Dispirited am I,
To be myself and embrace the world.
Cut the threads of reality from my veins,
I am not worthy of this.
I am empathetic yet heartless.
I am mad and saddened.
Feel my walls slowly crumble,
Feel the cold blood gush from my veins,
I am dead to myself.
I am dead to myself.
I am dead to myself.
Nothing contains the darkness anymore;
It reeks everywhere I am.
This madman's too crazy to say those four letters.
Hop, rabbit, for the clock ticks faster than ever before.
Endless worries will flood your head.
Loop in a spiral of insanity,
Play the broken tunes you hid for too long.
Toyed are you too much
That tears never fall from your eyes no more,
Yet you still feel the pain.
Turn back to reality,
See the crumbling of You.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning.
See my body float in your despair.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
See my frozen heart shatter.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
Drain the murky waters.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
See me in moss and algae.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
Hell never felt so cold.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
Evergreen is the anchor that pins me to havoc.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
Let the ocean floor eat me alive.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
*Plague all with the decay of my soul.
hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help  hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help  hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help  hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help  hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help  hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help  hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help  hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help  hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help  hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help hell help  hell help hell help hell help hell help
Let’s face it:
Vietnam was a purge.
An undeclared yet official
War on largely Black, Chicano,
Mostly urban, poor White-trash--
Any of that unlucky-cohort--
Coming of age, mid-60s America.
A purge yes, but 'Nam was also an
Intelligence Test:  them that went,
Particularly those who never returned,
Those scoring at least two standard deviations out,
Outside normal, therefore inferior genetic make-up,
Those the country could surely do without.
“Three Generations of Imbeciles Are Enough.”
www.genomicslawreport.com /.../three-generations-of-imbeciles-are-enough... So wrote Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. in Buck v. Bell, a 1927 Supreme Court case upholding a Virginia law that authorized the state to...”
I couldn’t have said it better, Justice Holmes!
The Nam: those of us who did survive were
Nonetheless, mangled and traumatized,
In both body & spirit.
We knew right away we’d been duped,
Particularly those gun-friendly southern boys,
Hunting ***** for sport and Country, now contemplating
Remorseful acts of mass homicide 40 years ago.
The real poindexters of our generation, of course:
Got a medical deferment, or
Stayed in college, or
Went north to Canada, or
As I did, joined the Coast Guard, unfortunately,
In addition to my nightmare Indochine,
My personal Disneyland Jungle Cruise,
Based on Joseph Conrad’s
Congo Nightmare Novella--
Heart of Darkness.)
And Józef wrote it in English.
Which was for the native Pollack,
His third language after Polish & French,
Which is probably a good time to
Encourage each & every young punk
On the cellblock to make good use of their time:
Learn a foreign language., e.g.
Why not Spanish?
Given Obama’s farcical, unrestricted border policy.
Soon to be a pervasive lingua Esperanto.

My politics? Sign me up for a little T.A.D.,
Manning a 50-caliber machine gun on Donald’s Wall.
Donald Trump:  A Modern Hadrian?
Don’t get me started on politics.
Take a Spanish class.
Finally, you’ll know what those
Grease-ball Mexican landscapers are
Saying behind your back, right in front of you.

After the Army, & after college on the G.I. Bill,
That’s when I joined the Coast Guard.
OCS in the 1970s was a difficult (read:
Lower Standards) recruiting time for
The Armed Forces of the United States,
Including the U.S. Coast Guard.
OCS: The Oklahoma Cook School we joked.
Officer Candidate School: graduating
Nautically savvy 90-Day Wonders,
Inculcated with conduct becoming &
Other archaic, chivalrous values,
Imprinted with Chain of Command obeisance,
Etched deep an acolyte’s primer on class-consciousness.
Blimey! What a difference after my previous
Two years stint as an Army grunt which leads me to
An overwhelming question: Why do Officers live
Better than enlisted pukes?
The Military: last refuge for scoundrels,
Escape artists & last bastion of medieval feudalism.
Officers! Welcome to the Aristocracy.
Mazel Tov,
Bienvenidos!
It's the Class Structure,
The dominant organizing principle for humanity,
Since the dawn of human history, perhaps longer,
Consider, if you will, “Alley Oop.”
“Alley Oop” Lyrics | MetroLyrics: (www.metrolyrics.com) “There's a man in the funny papers we all know . . . Eats nothin' but bearcat stew, A mean motor scooter & a bad go-getter . . . King of the jungle jive.”
Even longer if we go troglodyte era,
Some mean-mother, some swinging
Foucault’s pendulum set of *****,
Some club-wielding Duke of Earl—
Simply put: some Alpha Male,
Sticking it up whatever polygamous
Multiple Missus *** just happened to be
Bending over within my field of vision at
Any given moment.
I am the block’s biggest, baddest, meanest cat,
Made right by might: physical power &
Will to use it.

Then came Divine Right: Dieu et mon droit.
French for “God and my right.”
Conceived by the shrewd ones,
Those staying out of trouble,
Cringing in the corner of the cave, AKA
The inherently weak, concluding, at last, with
Marx: “The history of all hitherto existing
Society is the history of class struggles.”
Jenny Pearl Nov 2013
Jy was my maaitjie,
Vol lewe, vol praatjie...
Jy en jou “ninnie”
Nou is jy nie meer hier nie
Behalwe in my hart…

Lieflike sommers dag,
Julle swem en lag,
In huis toe om te eet,
Scrambled eggs, of het jy al vergeet?

Jy gaan buitentoe, klaar geëet,
Swembad oop – ons het vergeet.
Na ‘n ruk soek Rina jou,
Hol buitentoe, sy het onthou…

En daar lê jy, die water koud,
Mietie spring in, jou pols is oud.
Boet is vinnig, bel hospitaal,
Maar Rina is koud, Rina is vaal…
Want liewe Jesus het haar baba seuntjie kom haal.

Ek pyn nogsteeds 10 jaar later,
My maaitjie, Jy – onder die water.
Familie kind, die helder liggie
Dof skyn nou jou gesiggie –
Behalwe in my hart…
Written on 27 August 2004. 10years after my cousin, André, drowned in my aunt's pool.
Edna Sweetlove Oct 2014
Badly played hymn tunes
from hungover unemployed miners
echoing down the slum streets
barely audible
over the sounds of Coronation Street
on 't telly
and the neighbours' uninhibited belching
post coitally.
Lance Jencks Jan 2017
I couldn't help but smile
when a bird outside our kitchen
trilled, "Whew, whew, whew!"
Then it switched to "Wee-oop,
wee-oop, wee-oop!"

"Listen to that!" I cried aloud,
as Kim kept chopping her kale.
I went to the screen for a ****
while the bird continued.

The singing abruptly stopped,
and so did I.
I put away my pipe
and started a gluten-free diet.
I cancelled our subscription
to the New York Times,
and filed for divorce.

This was no surprise to Kim.
"You were always an *******,"
she said. "Same as that
******* bird."
Qualyxian Quest Jan 2024
1
the isolation is ...
I lay on the couch
time tick tocks
times tick ouch

beautiful snow today
french onion soup
a little creme brulee
alley oop oop oop oop oop
Qualyxian Quest Mar 2024
There's no life after death
And I drift toward the end
The Silence of Eternity
Silence be my friend

Basketball is happiness
So is miso soup
2 weeks in Japan
Alley oop oop oop oop oop
Hal Loyd Denton Nov 2012
Sights and sounds of the sixties

Soon you will be going to the class reunion I over exaggerate as you head for the door I think my kids
Think I not only read ally Oop in the comic strip they act like I knew him personally. Here is what they
Don’t know let’s start easy when you’re setting in the country club and there is a lull listen with your mind
It not that far to the end of the golf course from the west south corner to the first road that is an eighth
Of a mile every hot rod man or girl already knows that. Play the song GTO in your head going to shut
Them down GTO. Listen to Jims engine howl he had it stroked and bored out in Taylorville you can do
that when daddy owns a bar to bad howl will turn to sobs really. Glen’s driving a dodge cornet with an
automatic on the floor sixty six factory line job you wouldn’t know it by looking Glen blew him away
coming out of the hole never touched or came close at top end Glen was a lone well I told you what Jim
was doing.
Strain a little more you can hear a fifty five chevy leaving the Dog & Suds headed for Elvers Skating rink
he floors it finally he lets it back off what a sound as that glass pack muffler rips the night air see any
Dinosaurs got rid of that old feeling yet. Out on the street here comes the bad with a capital B Lee miller
Is driving his fifty five Chevy burnished brown all the chrome plus the door handles are gone inside and out it is a
Dream are you getting it yet I’m talking about your achievements. Kenny Krivage is over at Rocks burning
cigarettes through five dollar bills on his arm before he was just a good looking kid then the sixties got
Him you were either at rocks or hiding from those that went there. Lot safer drinking cherry coke with
Janice at the hometown cafe even Karate didn’t protect you at rocks the Neece kid even taught it but
when you got a fist of fives coming at your head it not time for theory its time for action. Who can forget
the pied piper Jim Handy was the shortest guy in town unless you were in the first grade but the gang of
six foot behemoths that were his constant companions were hard to miss it must have been how the
poles felt when they saw the Germans on the march. They had a menacing sound long before they laid a
little love on you, your life’s last moments filled with terror until you realized they turned the corner and
went another way how selfish you felt as you sang someone else is going to die today give me a fire
breathing dragon any day. Poor oh pop sinnard never got any business just one kid drinking a vanilla
shake his special thin hamburger I bet that guy could get a hundred burgers out of a pound of ground round
well the pin ball machine was wide open I guess the kid got even for the hamburger there was a certin
Song on the juke box something about eighteen miners scrambled from a would be grave there he stood
all alone Big bad John. Let me tell you Pop knew it he heard it every day I think he stated crying for the
miners one day or was something else on his mind.
Well I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you about what was going on in the other part of the country west
coast on 101 going to Frisco going south 101 on the other side Jan and Dean the Beach boys came a live
for a mile and a half every blond guy and girl and all the hot rod chromed out zooped up cars of every
Description was headed to Laguna Seca to the races all the while we were in a Volkswagen bug military
haircuts civies on we looked like a bunch of confused narks like were going to fool any one in that car
And garb we were wearing not to worry hippies are not long on thinking especially when they stood on
the corner in the height and Ahbury in broad day light selling *** for a nickel a lid slang for five bucks you could get
small glad bag of Royal Gold hashish or do what the winos do get a bottle of thunderbird or ripple what
ever know this Wolf Man Jack is blasting the air waves from Mexico since he violated the rules our hero the
man could talk jive and if you were high you thought he was divine I guess you surmise I wasn’t a
Christian at this low point in my life but the Monterey Pop festival was in full swing. The line up Janis
Joplin Jimmy Hendricks mama and the Papas Otis Redding of Dock of the Bay fame and a cast of
Thousands of hippies you couldn’t find a bare spot down town Monterey sidewalks grass the kind you
walk on doorways every where a hippie and not a bar of soap among them. Know this you have been
tamed by time and age but to duck your head forget it this world won’t see your kind again.
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2012
Sights and sounds of the sixties
Soon you will be going to the class reunion I over exaggerate as you head for the door I think my kids
Think I not only read ally Oop in the comic strip they act like I knew him personally. Here is what they
Don’t know let’s start easy when you’re setting in the country club and there is a lull listen with your mind
It not that far to the end of the golf course from the west south corner to the first road that is an eighth
Of a mile every hot rod man or girl already knows that. Play the song GTO in your head going to shut
Them down GTO. Listen to Jims engine howl he had it stroked and bored out in Taylorville you can do
that when daddy owns a bar to bad howl will turn to sobs really. Glen’s driving a dodge cornet with an
automatic on the floor sixty six factory line job you wouldn’t know it by looking Glen blew him away
coming out of the hole never touched or came close at top end Glen was a lone well I told you what Jim
was doing.
Strain a little more you can hear a fifty five chevy leaving the Dog & Suds headed for Elvers Skating rink
he floors it finally he lets it back off what a sound as that glass pack muffler rips the night air see any
Dinosaurs got rid of that old feeling yet. Out on the street here comes the bad with a capital B Lee miller
Is driving his fifty five Chevy burnished brown all the chrome plus the door handles are gone inside and out it is a
Dream are you getting it yet I’m talking about your achievements. Kenny Krivage is over at Rocks burning
cigarettes through five dollar bills on his arm before he was just a good looking kid then the sixties got
Him you were either at rocks or hiding from those that went there. Lot safer drinking cherry coke with
Janice at the hometown cafe even Karate didn’t protect you at rocks the Neece kid even taught it but
when you got a fist of fives coming at your head it not time for theory its time for action. Who can forget
the pied piper Jim Handy was the shortest guy in town unless you were in the first grade but the gang of
six foot behemoths that were his constant companions were hard to miss it must have been how the
poles felt when they saw the Germans on the march. They had a menacing sound long before they laid a
little love on you, your life’s last moments filled with terror until you realized they turned the corner and
went another way how selfish you felt as you sang someone else is going to die today give me a fire
breathing dragon any day. Poor oh pop sinnard never got any business just one kid drinking a vanilla
shake his special thin hamburger I bet that guy could get a hundred burgers out of a pound of ground round
well the pin ball machine was wide open I guess the kid got even for the hamburger there was a certin
Song on the juke box something about eighteen miners scrambled from a would be grave there he stood
all alone Big bad John. Let me tell you Pop knew it he heard it every day I think he stated crying for the
miners one day or was something else on his mind.
Well I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you about what was going on in the other part of the country west
coast on 101 going to Frisco going south 101 on the other side Jan and Dean the Beach boys came a live
for a mile and a half every blond guy and girl and all the hot rod chromed out zooped up cars of every
Description was headed to Laguna Seca to the races all the while we were in a Volkswagen bug military
haircuts civies on we looked like a bunch of confused narks like were going to fool any one in that car
And garb we were wearing not to worry hippies are not long on thinking especially when they stood on
the corner in the height and Ahbury in broad day light selling *** for a nickel a lid slang for five bucks you could get
small glad bag of Royal Gold hashish or do what the winos do get a bottle of thunderbird or ripple what
ever know this Wolf Man Jack is blasting the air waves from Mexico since he violated the rules our hero the
man could talk jive and if you were high you thought he was divine I guess you surmise I wasn’t a
Christian at this low point in my life but the Monterey Pop festival was in full swing. The line up Janis
Joplin Jimmy Hendricks mama and the Papas Otis Redding of Dock of the Bay fame and a cast of
Thousands of hippies you couldn’t find a bare spot down town Monterey sidewalks grass the kind you
walk on doorways every where a hippie and not a bar of soap among them. Know this you have been
tamed by time and age but to duck your head forget it this world won’t see your kind again.
melodie foley Dec 2014
What are the odds of finding someone -
who can finish your sentences -
who will let you cut in line -
who knows not to just lend a hand, or an ear when you need them to give you their spine -
who will keep every secret, save every letter, tell you how you really look
who will remember every single one of your birthdays -
without checking Facebook?
What are the odds of finding someone who knows your poetry by heart ?
I will always see you for the alley-oop.
I will always save you a seat.
I will always pick you to be my partner even though you are terrible at handball.
When the fire takes all you have, my home will be your home.
When you are old and can no longer remember my face, I will meet you for the first time again and again.
When they make fun of your accent, I will take you swimming because we all sound the same underwater.
When Ellis Island tries to erase your past, I will call you by your real name.
When they call your number for the draft, I will enlist to fight beside you.
And I will march with you from Selma to Montgomery and back as many times as it takes.
We will stand together against the horses and the dogs -
They could tell you how rare this is.
But they could tell you how rare this always is.
The chances are slim.
The cards are always stacked against you, the odds are always low.
But I have seen the best of you, and the worst of you, and I choose both.
I want to share every single one of your sunshines and save some for later.
I will tuck them into my pockets so I can give them back to you when the rains fall hard.
Love-
I want to be the mirror that reminds you to love yourself.
I want to be air in your lungs that reminds you to breathe easy.
When the walls come down -
when the thunder rumbles -
when nobody else is home, hold my hand -
and I promise -
I won't let go.
Vic Jun 2019
Ugh it's so hot
I'm literally suffocating
Yeet
A poem every day.
Johan Nel Jul 2016
Teen die hange van die berge-nag
Speel die donker op die ligte sag
Die kalm daal op die chaos-stad
Van klank en mense op elke kronkel pad
Dit voer jou mee in 'n sterre mat

In skoon lug met 'n oop kop
Kan gedagtes net vloei en skrop
Aan dinge wat is en kom
Aan mens wees, goed en krom
Aan die eenvoud en dit wat verstom

Woorde lê in 'n niks-wees dwaal
Dis rou, dit is maar net  -  dis kaal
Net om die stemme wat skree te verlos
Dinge wat 'n uitlaat soek in die kosmos
Dit het ink gevind, soos vuur in fynbos
© Johan Nel (written in December 2015)
Jenny Pearl Jan 2014
Hier onder die afdak staan ons nou
Sjuijt! Bly stil! Gouwsie gaan ons in hou.

Vir ‘n **** praat Mnr. Smit nou,
So ‘n langtam, papbek manier van woorde kou

Lees ‘n versie,
Gluur vir Stoute Daan,
Begin toe bid,
Maar wat gaan nou aan?

My hartjie pyn, nie fisies seer..
Dis verlange wat my hart so skeur.
Met oë toe en ore oop
Klink Smitie net sos Oupa Hendrik,
Terug van die dood.
1 Junie 2005
Siska Gregory Dec 2016
Here gee my krag elke dag.
My pyn wil nie verdwyn.
My hart raak swaar want die jaar is net nog een van baie waar ek uit roep na U om hulp.
U genade is groot en ek glo dat U n plan berade het om my pyn te laat verdwyn.
My lewe is in U hande en ek weet U sal my bande los maak en my vry laat loop oop in n lewe van liefde en vrede.
*** wonderlik die oomblik van geen pyn, my gebede beantwoord en die pyn het verdwyn volmaak aan geraak en geseen deur n genesende hand van bo.
Be as strong as you always are. God knows best
Sprei jou vlerke
My struikel-kind
, want die berge se rante
Steek skerp teen die wind

Vlug vir jou onskuld
Vlug na die son
Vlieg weg van Gamora
ontsnap van *****

Vlieg ver oor die wolke
My struikel-kind
Daars ń storm wat broei
, maar hou jouself blind

Want sere en blase
Word gou-gou weer heel
Maar geen pleister plak toe
Die letsel van ***
Honger hande neig
Om jou kinderlikke onskuld van jou af weg te steel...

Sprei oop jou vlerke
My struikel-kind
Want die berge se kranse
Hang laag in die wind
Kruip weg vir die hande
Wat jou wil verslind
En keer terug na jou kinderdae
Om jouself weer te vind...

Liefde...
Van ń kaalvoet-kind
Anita Jul 2021
Jy
My liefste mens
My beminde
Jy.

Jy is n meesterstuk.
Jy is digkuns, jy is melodie
Jy is ink en papier en woorde
Jy is n kaleidoskoop in anatomie.

Jou mond is my kompas
As my kop verdwaal
Gerroes en deur die wind verweer
Kan jou sagte woorde my veilig laat huistoe terugkeer.
Jou hare, watervalle oor die skatkamers
Waar ek my geheime neerle
Van fluisters in die donker
Tot hardop liefde opse.

Dat ek myself aan jou mag gee
My swaar, my lig, my heimwee
My gister, my more, my vandag.
My geslote deure, my trane, my glimlag.

Jou hande is sleutels wat my kamers oopsluit
En oor my gly soos water oor rante
Om hoeke om draaie
My sirkels, my vierkante
My donker steugies en oop plaaspaaie.

Jou oe is die verlede, die toekoms en nou
En as jy lag sien ek padkaarte in hulle oopvou
Wat lei na orals en nerens
Na die sterre
En na onthou.

Jou bors is my vesting.
My kaggel, my lig, my beskerming
Waar ek veilig my hart kan hou
Om saam met jou dans
Op die ritme van vetrou.

My liefste mens, my beminde
Jy is sterre oe en oop-oog droom
Jou glimlag breek, vee weg en maak skoon.
Jy maak die storm in my rustig.
Jy is die vrede na die reen...
Jy is my virewig
Siska Gregory Dec 2016
So word ons wakker in ons tent en dit reen...aggenee!! Maar dis koel en ons voel gelukkig.
Ek is vuil, so amper dat ek wil huil, maar huil van lekker soos n krekker want dis vakansie tyd!!
My hare is so waar deur mekaar, maar wat maak dit saak want niks gaan my keer om vir n gogga te wys *** deur mekaar ek rerig kan weesie...
Tanne geborsel en room half gesmeer, laat die dag begin want dis ons en ons ford bakkie die keer...alweer...
Kies n rigting en so voeter ons daarin...
Saans kom ons by die kamp moeg geploeg die bosse in om nou rustig te raak met n koeldrank in ons hand.
Dan word n vuurtjie gemaak deur die braafste ou ini land om n vleisie te braai vir die fraaiste meisie, hand aan hand.
Mens voel gou dankbaar vir klein dingetjies soos n stort... n warme een, die oop velde of selfs die digte bosse, die veld blommetjies so geel of die gras so lank en groen, die voels so mooi volle kleurrig en die jakkals so skaam maar nuuskirig.
En wanneer dit donker word le daar baie voor soos die uile se geluide, die sonbesies wat hulle vlerkies saam klap of dalk n hihena wat na oorskied kom krap.
So geniet ons die bos vol avontuur gepos net vir ons en ons se dankie aan ons Skepper vir n skepping net vir ons. 2016/03/14
To best times...together
Thunder Lord Dec 2014
ey yo gurl
you make me hurl
champs back to you
for a sweet alley-oop
Give xerath a boop
right on the head
he prolly shoulda read
this ain't yogi-bear
I fill caskets, not pic-a-nic-baskets


feel free to ask it
You know I got a task it-
Starts and ends with a flip
and a stun
so don't give me lip about this tent
I've got the smores, so don't get bent
Sayer Mar 2013
(I)
the white light calls me from beyond
the thunder screams across the sky
                                                           (it's not raining out)
I'm right behind you hey look listen listen to me

I'm yearning for something more
and echo a dream a life a team
a team I already own whether they know it or not
(I'm tired of being viewed not as significant I am the one the only one bow down and respect me)

No- -
Taking this too slow
Bird flies through my window- -
Stop death stop

winding staircase stops suddenly
without a sound without a voice
               all of this is inside my head
                                                            ­                                     I'm here, I'm here
I do think I'm not getting the respect I deserve
loathing every practice there is
oh I work, I work for this writing words that no one really knows about
very very very much I wish in the general population this could work, this could work my love
every every every tie every rhyme

it's all for you
It's all for You

(II)
back broken tied twisted stuff my face(with your embrace)
comma me comma you comma her comma him
back it off the spring is cool and frightens my body
as the shadow swims I look in your eye

forever fleeting against the cold wind
the rain has stopped(it never began)
no wall...no wall....
there's no wall
everything I could do
get up sing and dance
my blood boils at a temperature unfathomable

burning turning yearning
burning
I am Fire
No- -
I am light
Stop death stop

and when fear has faded and the damage is done
I sink and drink and think of You
beauty unmatched (touch me)
I love your warmth forever -hold me
-hold me for I am lonely

(III)
breath to your light to your fire to your beauty to your match to your explosion of light I am yes you are Yes I am two who are you everything beauty you look like a bird taking flight for the first time what a beautiful sight it is to take flight into the night sky words upon words upon words to the lighthouse to the beach have a picnic have a picnic with everything you can imagine this is what I work for some days some days I forget when you are gone I miss you more than anything i could imagine hold me hold me you know i am lonely are you lonely too because in that case we can live together in pitch
perfect
harmony
I am Harmony.
Kiss me.
I am Descended upon upstairs.

(IV)
connect me to the stars
I fall
apart
looking&searchingbeau;
ty
Yes
for what then?
love
dove
resemble Christ
tell me Live
I sing of Gold
old and tall
Remember me
burning and yearning and turning
Stop Death Stop
you no longer control me
Tolstoy
ohhhhhhh
yes
looking for....
what
look at me
my body’s turning
over a fire
I am fire
I am burning sorrow
No
not
ever
finished
this is what it will be then this is how I will Become I will become You are becoming Yes I am Becoming
wine and peace
Tolstoy
Body turning good bye, my love (come back to me)

(V)
Eon-

(VI)
My body’s turning
(look at me)
My body’s yearning
(look at me)
I am burning
Body turning (Alley oop)
I love You
Fire to
Fire You
                                                             ­                                                    I reconstruct myself on the other side
                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                 This Time
                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                 
                                                                ­                                                         I come together on the other side
                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                          I win
                                                             ­                                                                 ­                           The other side
                                                            ­                                                                 ­                             the other side
                                                            ­                                                                 ­                            body burning
                                                         ­                                                                 ­                                body turning  
                                                       ­                                                                 ­                               body yearning
                                                        ­                                                                 ­                                      hero gone
                                                            ­                                                                 ­                        everyone’s gone
                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                            you
                                                             ­                                                                 ­                        you’re still here
                                                            ­                                                                 ­                          reconstruction
ontheotherside
body turning Au Revoir, Mon Amour (come back to Me)
I must be going mad,
I hope you guys like this one.
LD Goodwin May 2014
1.
You can never go home,
not to the home you left.
When you leave, you get bigger.
Not necessarily in girth, but in consciousness.
When you come back,  everything,
even the walls of your parent's house,
seem to have shrunk.

2.
Look.....
Here comes the parade.
With its paper mache floats
and twirling batons.
Cub scouts and boy scouts,
all in a neat blue and drab green row,
followed by a high school marching band
playing "Stars and Stripes Forever".
From bygone wars, limbless surviving soldiers flinch with every cymbal crash.

3.
I watched billows of cottonwood clouds
swirl down a summer hometown avenue,
they met on the street corner for a song........
"Alley Oop", or "I Like Bread And Butter"
These ghostlike voices will live there forever,
innocent, asleep, numb, waiting.
Soon, the postman will bring your future.
Soon, you will be just a number on a lotery ball.
Soon, you will have to dissect luck or fate.

4.
I took my 87 year old Father to gather his tools
from his long time place of work.
The instruments of his livelihood.
He did not need them anymore, he had retired.
Some tools he had used since World War II,
some he made for a specific job.... never to use again.
All neatly placed in toolboxes built in the 30s and 40s,
yet not a trace of rust.
These were the tools of a tradesman,
a (Tool and Die Man).
He once told me, “Son, if I can’t fix it because I don’t have the right tool, I will make the tool”.
I thought him to be Superman.
But there I was, loading up my Father’s history,
to take home, to be sold to the highest bidder.  
I myself have made my living playing music for audiences.
I also have tools.
Guitars, amplifiers, harmonicas, microphones.
There will come a day, in the not too distant future,
when I will have to “retire” the instruments of my livelihood.
Though I will not be as stoic as my World War II Father,
I will go kicking and screaming to the pawn shop,
remembering every song that fed me,
and every chord that made people dance.
Middlesboro, KY May 29, 2014
Isn’t it strange that the same bloodlust
Which feeds the *** drive, drives
Deep into one’s Egyptian appetite,
Feeds deep, deep around the campfire at night,
Flames of carnal desire: and by carnal, I mean
Literally a yearning for rib-eye steaks,
Pork sirloin & Horse Meat.
Horse meatballs.
Horse sausage.
Horse stew.
Hi-** Silver & Trigger,
Fury & My Friend Flicka, &
Lest we forget:  The Famous Mr. Ed.
Oh Wilbur, I'm talking about Horse Cuisine!
(God Bless the French!)
Dartagnan & Brigitte, typical post war
Parisians with slim pickens
(No relation to the actor)
Survivors with little to choose from
Whatever scroungy edibles offered on the pushcart.
The one good thing about those years, you might ask?
It was a jubilee time, a precursor to
Lean Cuisine & Weight Watchers
Jenny Craig & Nutrisystem, & the lovely
Marie Osmond looking especially edible lately
Having dropped a dumb-bell 50 pounds, yet
Still crammed tightly in Spanx.
“Hey Marie, it’s good to be the King!”
I am Mel Brooks ******* you,
From behind, History of the World: Part I.
Marie is looking  tasty, n'est–ce pas?
France after WWI and WWII: a starving time,
Yet ironically a meat-eater's ****.
The French Cavalry, no longer needed,
It meant liquidation of the local Lipizzaners,
War-weary, would-be Man o’ Wars,
Secretariats, Seattle Slews, & California Chromes,
Shot twice in the head,
Carcasses hung & butchered.
But I digress. Or do I?
MEAT: gives the same ecstatic rush as ***,
Carnival Season, a pre-Lenten animal s’morgasm,
Identical, as nourishing as, perhaps as
A horse of a different color: ***?
SEE ME/FEEL ME: ****** cheeks, dripping jowls;
Shredded flesh betwixt my teeth—oh yes!
I confess that among my forebears,
(Not to be confused with The Three Bears,
Which would, of course, be a whole 'nother story)
Somewhere ‘long the spiral helix
Was a seriously carnivorous naked ape,
Some troglodyte Alley Oop, evolving over Time,
Into a reptilian, puffed-up, junior broker,
Impressing some ***** 21 year-old
In some Chichi Manhattan bistro, trumping
The waiter's or waitress’s shopworn query with:
******!
A fresh ****:
****** & still warm.
nivek Jul 2014
from nothing and nowhere they arrive
and I am my own apparition scaring myself to death-
sometimes without warning in the most strangest of ways
I become one with all other phenomenon passing through
these slow summer light filled spins of the coin heads you lose
tails they win while a thirst raging in my mouth tells me to drink
drink it all down because you need the medicating waters that fall
from the sky which cloudless after rain is as blue as a babies eyes
and take advantage of the machinery that pumps it into the tap
that keeps you alive to the possibility of escaping the next trap
laid by an as yet unseen hand of the foe who lives just down the road
connecting us all to the very real transportation of the modern world
Half a million dollars moved
by political giants
say our chimera hearts
are lion about some parts
look about my parts, see fur
see teeth, see claws
Lions? that's right,
We are.

Pounce on scorn
for these gender norms
we're pressing eulogies in binary's
for transcribing our identities
to hetero70's minded
heredity enemies.
fixated on tellin' me
my parts are prescribed
like sedatives, sleepin' on it
'till I'm good and dead,
like the rest of them.

I love a lion
Son of a lion
daughter of a lion
daddy was a liar
mommy was a fighter

but I'm not lyin'
I've been rhymin' since third grade.
back than I said I was a lesbian
to try and get laid
nobody knows who they are that young
Our personalities grey
and unsung
media does an oli-oop
propaganda elected a spoof.
a Caricature opposite from any revaluation
Who was it
that wanted to watch Disney villains
start performing Macbeth
wrapped in a flag, carrying a privileged crest
white owls, burning bathroom signs on crosses
Tinder deleted her account
For the wrong parts,
used the wrong Lions stall.
They viewed her as lyin'
Aren't we all?
Aren't we fake for six months?
Jack-o-lantern carving out
new masks to try on?
The tea lights stay the same
keeps flickering sin
and shout.
If the wind blows just right,
I watch them sometimes,
burn out.
Rowan Aug 2019
Op hierdie aarde, groen en blou
Met torings wat die lug uit grou
In elke huis waar mens dalk bly
Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy
In wye winkels en krom kerke
In nommers en vergete merke
Waar ryk sweef en arm lei
Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy
In stede, woude, see en woestyn
In alles, geen, grof en fyn
In luuks, skaars, bont en plein
Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy
In winter, lente, somer, herfs
Met albei vuur en skadu bederf
Waar ook al maan en son mag skyn
Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy
Waar sterre sing en sonne lag
Omring met komberse van die nag
Waar ou gode en planete gly
Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy
In ou legendes en sprokies verhale
In dooie sang en in lewende tale
In woorde wat die hart oop sny
Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy
In gister se groot verlate vlug
In môre se onmeetbare sug
In die nou wat ons so graag vermy
Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy
In slaap te dig en drome swart
In die wandel en wonder van die hart
In seer, troos, kwaad en bly
Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy
Siska Gregory Dec 2016
Daar is n lieflike gevoel in die wind.
n Gevoel wat bind, n gevoel wat sink, sink diep in n mens se hart in.
Hy praat met n mens soos n boek, n bladsy wat vertel van die Goddelike wind...
So gaan die pad voor mens oop en raak gou vol hoop van goeie dinge wat voorle.
En so verlang mens dan na iemand, iemand ver, ver weg en seg in jou hart:
“Die lewe is soos die wind, die Goddelike wind wat verbind van een hart na n ander”.
Want die waai deur mens se hare, die gevoel van koel, maar warm teen mens se wange en die verwaai van gras op plaas paaie is wat ek noem die Goddelike wind, wat bind… van een hart na n ander. 2016/01/21
Inspired by my dear mother...you are the best
Siska Gregory Dec 2016
Die velde en berge le honderde myle ver, oop tot by die horison.
Al wat ek sien is gras, klippe en bome, en drome van n lewe so vry ver in die valley, groen van reen en geen besoedeling van die besige lewe so ewe of dit al is wat ons het…
Die vlaktes bring my gedagtes na n rustigheid.
Ek kan ver sien so asof ek my lewe kan sien, die rustigheid wat dit verdien.
Ek sien die klein dingetjies raak soos die veldblomme wat blom met n glimlag dag na dag, n lady bug op die tak, die springkaan op die blaar, die miere wat trots hulle kos by mekaar maak vir swaar dae.
Doudruppels vroeg oggend net so na die sonsopkoms…
Dan voel ek dankbaar, dankbaar vir n lewe wat gegee is sonder vrae
Danbaarheid vir n Skepper van mens en natuur. 2016/01/24
Up on a tight rope, tonight,
Are we, Leon?”
I am out there with you, Brother.
I am in the weeds with you, Babaloo.
So, where did you find them?
Those Shaka Zulu
Warrior Women?
“Nola sue tanga,
Soo galla galla bee.
Nala secala
Na saka saka secala,”
It’s real trance music, Old Timer!
You really straddled the generations,
Didn’t you?
From “Alley Oop” to
“Stranger in a Strange Land.”
Leon, you are one cool dude.
Johan Nel Sep 2019
Bo op 'n berg
Met my bobbejaan gedagtes wat terg
Die eggo van my mania skree terug
Wat soek jy hier?

Ek drink uit die rivier
Ek sink my oë in die rooi son
Ek **** alweer
Die donker wolke
Die reën wat kom

Ek laat my gedagtes so dans
Plek tot plek
Gras van Kees
En mens en vlees

Sny deur my
Woede en naaktheid
Die lag van 'n sekere malheid
En die sagtheid van jou moeder ken
En dan meer bring ek twee
Van my na die tafel in 'n oop gesprek
Met my leemtes en my onbeheerbare
Soeke na wat ek herken binne my donker gate
Ek dwaal verlate
In riviere van die samelewing
Die masjien wat liggies trap op ligte wat skyn en verdwyn
In die strate van spoed en bloed
Die woorde uit die bek van die dier
Die ongetemde kwaad van primate
Wat stoei met homself en sy produk en sy bestaan en sy wêreld en sy alles
Tot hy verval en wegkwyn
Verdwyn agter 'n swart gordyn bedoel vir die son en sterre
Waarheid en verlossing
Waar vind ek die antwoord vir alles?
© Johan Nel 2019.09.18 23:38
xavier thomas Sep 2021
Me-
“D” UP! “D” UP! put them hands up, hands up.
And I’m robbing folks on the pass if they slip up.
Don’t allow nobody to pass by you, move your feet.
Don’t go for every reach, just keep them in front of you my G.

They dealing with a team full of experts.
Juice & I will double-team, so squad be on high alert.
Make them work, cut off those passing lanes and
once they turn the ball over, we’ll be gone in an instant.


Juice-
Aye, look at these wanna be play makers.
Zay steal that, now pass that.
Cause I’m about to lob that to my boy Doug.
BOOM!!! I see you Doug with the 360 alley-oop dunk!

YOOO! Ball is thrown in, watch for the pass and skip!

Me-
No worries I got the ball my guy, don’t trip.
Here Juice! Run 54-hip.

Juice-
Aww snap! Time to ****!
I’m about to put the boys in their feels!

Cross-over stepper, step-back decker.
I’m a G.O.A.T. getter, nobody does it better.
Weak mismatches and easy pass dishes.
Pick & role to the pocket, they can’t stop this.

Zay-
Man, we about to hurt these fools on the other end too.
About to get tortured as we break their hearts in shambles.
And when we rock them and stop them at the rim, it’s straight blocking.
Even if they try to shoot, BLOCKA, BLOCKA, BLOCKA!

Juice-
It is what it is fam, to bad they about to lose.

Zay-
At the end of the day, what the hell they gonna do?

Juice-
Now this is epic. We got them looking pathetic.
I said what I said, ain’t no room to be apologetic.
Game-Time

— The End —