"pappy" poems
Turkey hunting with his pappy
The dogs let loose into the marsh
Birds flew out, and guns went off
The end result was rather harsh
Willie Joe jumped first at nothing
Shot at turkeys in the air
First shot missed, but hit a target
He'd shot Jim Joseph in the ear
Time to call the Country Preacher
A service needed to be done
The end result was up to Jesus
At the wrong end of a country gun
Jolene was all set for college
Had a baby on the way
One quick fling in the hay with Joseph
There was nothing left for her to say
Joseph stood and did deny it
Said that Jolene told a lie
Jolene's daddy got his shotgun
And with no wedding, Joseph'd die
Time to call the Country Preacher
A service needed to be done
The end result was up to Jesus
At the wrong end of a country gun
The wedding went off without trouble
Both families were there in force
Jolene's dad had brought his shotgun
The best man was old Joseph's horse
The moonshine flowed like holy water
There was no jar that wasn't filled
And through it all, poor pregnant Jolene
Wondered who would end up killed
Time to call the Country Preacher
A service needed to be done
The end result was up to Jesus
At the wrong end of a country gun
The preacher preached and people listened
Amened here and there throughout
A few well placed hallelujahs
Praise the lord was heard no doubt
All dressed in black with eyes just shining
He couldn't have done smiled more
For who in town knew that the preacher
Owned the gun and ammo store?
Time to call the Country Preacher
A service needed to be done
The end result was up to Jesus
And the preacher would refill the gun.
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 10:22 PM UTC
a tumblr full of rocks
a pour of ichiro malt
and a stir
gan bei
and
ichi
to the yamazaki and nikkas
i am in the land of the sun
i go down to the land of the dead
mei hi ko
anejo
casa amigo,
to my brothers in arms
jose, i must have my agave
cheers to the alamo
to the land of the prohibition
kentucky
yippee kay yay
bourbon,
spicy rye kick
spur to the horse
giddy up, giddy up
riding off into the sun
set to kentucky
derby
bourbon
ballentines
tom ford west
make your mark
with maker’s mark
bottoms up
and now i am staggering
vichi patia
better than grey goose
aunt jiin
and all the cult gin
navy strength and **** juice
getting rowdy
like irish bloke jameson
and that **** scot
macallan
and his gang
oiban, glenfiddich, and
glenlivet
I am livid
at that son of a *****
son of peat
another round
i am monkeying around
monkey 47
sun set
sun rise
*** on the beach
i see kings and queens
louis thirteen
i am going to sleep
pappy van winkle
100 years
like rip van winkle
don’t wake me
stir and not shaken
good night, mama
sweet havana
neat
a shot of don papa
i go to sleep
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 8:47 PM UTC
Too many bottles of this wine we can't pronounce
Too many bowls of that green, no lucky charms
The maids come around too much
Parents ain't around enough
Too many joy rides in daddy's jaguar
Too many white lies and white lines
Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends
Super rich kids with nothing but fake friends
Start my day up on the roof
There's nothing like this type of view
Point the clicker at the tube
I prefer expensive news
New car, new girl
New ice, new glass
New watch, good times babe
It's good times, yeah
She wash my back three times a day
This shower head feels so amazing
We'll both be high, the help don't stare
They just walk by, they must don't care
A million one, a million two
A hundred more will never do
Real love, I'm searching for a real love
Real love, I'm searching for a real love
Oh, real love
Close your eyes for what you can't imagine, we are the xany gnashing
Caddy smashing, bratty *** he mad, he snatched his daddy's Jag
And used the **** for batting practice, adamant and he thrashing
Purchasing ****** grams with half the hand of cash you handed
Panicking, patch me up, Pappy done latch keyed us
Toying with Raggy Anns and mammy done had enough
Brash as **** breaching all these aqueducts; don't believe us
Treat us like we can't erupt, yup
We end our day up on the roof
I say I'll jump, I never do
But when I'm drunk I act a fool
Talking 'bout , do they sew wings on tailored suits
I'm on that ledge, she grabs my arm
She slaps my head
It's good times, yeah
Sleeve rips off, I slip, I fall
The market's down like 60 stories
And some don't end the way they should
My silver spoon has fed me good
A million one, a million cash
Close my eyes and feel the crash
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 12:06 AM UTC
Gramophone records play
Scratch, play, scratch, play
Soft in the background, edging into me
Slow and easy, gentle waves.
Granny, play me La Wally again
Turning, spinning, round and round
Take me away on audio-pearls
Peace whirls me on a magic dance.
Pappa, hide the ugly monsters
Keep me safe in Noddy and Pat tales
I'd rather be caught in merry tune
Than in webs of yonder folk out there.
Momma, put on Golden Slumbers
"Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby"
Yes, I find my way homeward...
Gramps, sing me a Holliday song
The kind that lifts one so high
With Mammy and Pappy blessing all of me
Yes my happiness, I've got me own!
Dear Heaven, open windows and walls
Swirling, flowing its beautiful energy
Sore needed peace and beauty
That no eye can truly see.
Star Toucher, 02 March 2013
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
The voodoo doll sits there on the window sill,
I named him Bill,
Bill sits there all day and all night,
And when I come in at night he gives me a fright,
It looks like he has an evil grin on his face,
Sometimes he can be a disgrace.
He can be a disgrace doing all sorts of things,
Sometimes he steals my rings,
I don’t know how he does it,
But he will never admit,
What he does to us,
He puts us in a lot of stress.
There is something about Bill that you should know,
He is very handy with arrows and a bow,
He is very special in his own little way,
He likes to make little people out of clay,
He is no ordinary voodoo doll,
Paulina is his best friend they both love running into a wall,
This may seem very odd,
And when I tell them off for doing this they just stand there and nod.
This is the story of my voodoo doll,
Whenever he gets tired he likes to loll,
So next time you come across him,
Remember to give him a sim dim.
This way he will be very happy.
And forever make you his close enough pappy.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 7:11 PM UTC
Laura the Leprechaun lived in a forest,
Of all the Leprechauns she was the smallest.
But she didn’t care, as she was just happy,
Because she was loved very much by her Pappy.
Laura sat at meals with sages,
She unearthed truths hidden for ages.
Her unmatchable strength is her courage,
She is a budding plant of greatness.
Laura had a friend called Jane,
Together they played hide and seek in the hay.
At dawn, they roam the street with glee,
They fight at dinner over bread, butter, and tea.
Laura happily played around in the woods,
Picking the fresh nuts and fruits.
The leaves breathe freshness into her bones,
The pure air from the woods nourishes her soul.
Laura’s beauty was peer-less,
With a tender skin that was spotless.
She cheered the world with her lovely smiles,
And her happiness went on for miles and miles!
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 6:35 PM UTC
The sirens blared that 4th of July
Officer Duncan gave Mammy a ride
An emergency dash to the hospital
He’s 2 months premature Mammy cried
Deaf, dumb and blind is what the doctors said
To our mother when Sammy was born
But none of us kids ever were told
Until Sammy was stable and grown
Pappy declared that they’d both be fine
Not believing dire news doctors gave
We happily named him Uncle Sam
Trusting in him to be strong and brave
His 1st 5 months in an incubator
Hooked up to every device
In Newton Wellesley Hospital, 1959
A miracle saved his life
Reaching gloved hands through holes in the side
Weighing just a bit over 2 pounds
Looking more like a spindly ET
I was amazed to be hearing breath sounds
Sam worked on doubling his weight by Christmas
Nothing seemed easy or fast
Still Mammy survived the eclampsia
And Sammy went home at last
Returning a few years later
Sammy’s doctor she would find
To show off to all the nurses
Her son NOT deaf, dumb and blind
I so love my brother Sammy
Always felt like a sister and mother
I’d give all I have for the time
Just a minute more with my dear brother
I’d speak to you of those 57 years
Of the great whirligig you carved with your hands
All the times you showed up for me
Through the good and the bad our love stands
You wasted no time hating anybody
Children and dogs always your friends
Quick for a laugh despite any lack
I draw comfort that all your pain ends
The sirens blared once again for you
The ambulance came, the paramedics tried
Racing you trying to save you
All in vain, in the OR you died
Like Tommy’s rock opera is over
Perhaps you paused to speak to a stray dog
While keeping your divine appointment
By reaching right into the hand of God
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 9:12 PM UTC
My voodoo doll sits there on the window sill,
His name is Bill,
Bill sits there all day and night,
And when I come in at night he gives me a fright,
It looks like he and evil grin on his face,
Sometimes he can be a disgrace.
He can be a disgrace by doing all sorts of things,
Sometimes he steals my rings,
I don't know how he does it,
But he'll never admits,
What he does to us,
He puts us under alot of stress.
There is something about bill you should know,
He is very handy with arrows and a bow,
He is very special in his own little way,
He likes to make little people out of clay,
He is no ordinary voodoo doll,
Paulina is his best friend and they both running into a wall,
This may seem very odd,
And when I tell them off for doing this they just stand there and nod.
This is the story of my voodoo doll,
Whenever he gets tired to loll,
So next time you come across him,
Remember to give him a sim dim,
This way he will be very happy,
And forever make you his close enough pappy!
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 6:56 PM UTC
I'll be a good mom
With 1 little boy
Cherish and love him
And fill him with joy
I'll be a good loving wife
And make my husband happy
And one day me and him will be a good grandma and pappy.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
I just had a shot
Of Pappy Van Winkle neat
Smooth with a good burn
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 3:04 PM UTC
So undesirable, being forgotten after death;
What's the point of living at all,
If you're forgotten upon your last breath?
Perhaps I could be happy
Constructing a modest, pleasant life for my family,
And then passing away a wizened pappy ...
But I endeavor to reach higher
And to achieve goals that some deem unattainable;
That is one of my ultimate desires.
Settle not for mundane,
Be comfortable not with
What just barely sustains.
Don't be an obstacle
On the path to your success:
That is not logical.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
*Ramirez waits on the couch
patiently
for the date of his life*
1.
fidgety-fidgety boy
there's no call for nervous-smiles
her daddy gruffly placed you
on the couch
now, you wait and wait and wait
2.
you decide to use some bonus-airtime you received
but who to call?
the one you'd like to spend that time on .. is with your Maker
but you're too shy to talk to God
your Momma told you God's one busy-light
and he ain't got no time for a slow-coach like you
who can barely spell two words
3.
yes, I can spell my name.. leave me alone!
hey man, who says God won't talk to me?
why, I did Him a favour here.. I'm takin' out this here girl
who's never been out before
18 years old and her pappy been watching her so
she can barely make two sentences before her complexion vies with beet
*it came to him in a dream.. take her out.. take out.. take her out..
and so, tonight.. he will*
4.
Lord behold, where is our boy?
****** why did you not watch him?
what... and you believed him??
goodness, go out and find him....NOW!
he didn't take his stuff
5.
she descends slowly, as on a cloud
and smiles in awkward-bunches
oh, if only her father had let her go out before.. like everyone else
she may have been able to see..............................................................
*this is the date
and he
took her out*
S T - 2 dec 13
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 12:03 PM UTC
I've spent too many hours trying tower my accomplishments
I stole this art, replaced my heart with everything that's opposite
reverse the hearse, this inner peace is quite a compliant
my yin and yang are but centerpieces upon a ledge
if they fall off, these elements will simply crush a head
solar optimist, a bi-polar writer with floppy-disk
decoded so you can't comprehend
no counter weight for this heavyweight of a mentalist
as I pick up the pen you can see that a flame was lit
since this is my movie, let's keep it groovy and toss the script
I can't wait to show the world what the **** monumental is!
this flow is brilliant to extravagant
I guess what I'm feeling is happiness?
no resilience happening?
Still, don't know who my pappy is
happy pieces of laughy taffy
enough motion from the potion
will have a girl callin me pappy quick
I stay railing like locomotives
the motive is, I'm to motived and focus with all this poetry
unleash my inner locust, then leap on to new pageantry
I'm well adapted like strangers blending into scenes
I gave her the wood in return we nurtured a tree
its double sided girl this **** isn't ever free
If you don't like the price
there's the door you can leave
but look
I know I don't have a car
but soon I will buy a Toyota
pick you up so you can sleepover
I have a super cobra that shots like a super soaker
whenever you're doing yoga
Hulu view for the two,
Youtube view interlude
Netflix an Chill for the mood
Tv on dimmest setting
an inner room lit like the moon
smoking **** watching views
give me snack like I'm scooby do
I just want to lay with you
I picked you out of the many few
from the ocean of this social media stew
girl, what would you like me to do?
November 22, 2016 / Tuesday 1:37 PM
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 1:38 PM UTC
illusions soil damp with summer rain
we are silence creeping softly
in halflight carrying a farthings worth of sugar
for his bitter tea and stale buttery breads
our stealth footprints leaning to the shadows trail us
the thick scents of tilled earth
and the fresher faster scent of rain
turn to whisper your hush-now's and stifle the laughter
tis serious things afoot in the majestic night
seed lain with casual grunts
by the farmers son come of age
till foolish boy reckons what hes done
but storm riding in and no time to dawdle
bread in the basket and skittles in the cookfire
whats to be done whats to be done
he sweeps his mistakes aside and plows onward
like his pappy would have done
illusions soil fertile
and fools will take to heart any tale
so we have come sneakin' and creepin'
to harvesting our due
in halflight carrying a farthings worth of sugar
for his bitter teas and stale buttery breads
feed the fools mind with all manner of delusion
and while we sit and sup in the heavenly scented field
the thick scents of tilled earth
and the fresher faster scent of rain
he will be singing and dancing a madwoman's jig
under a lunatic moon
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
jack casual was a hard workin' man,
put bread on the table,
kept the roof over our heads,
and kept that dog, nellie, from gettin' 'er sorry be-hind run over.
yep, ol' jack was worth his salt.
he used to play his acoustic for us
when we were tikes,
back when we had an air conditioner.
when it broke down,
ol' gran-pappy,
jack's dad,
had him run out to the store to buy a window unit
and a slurpie.
then pappy would stagnate all day
in the back room while we sweltered,
and he'd send me on errands on my bike,
and read week-old newspapers,
and yell at jack to
"pay the god **** bills"
at four in the morning.
jack wanted to send him to a "home",
but mama never did like them.
she said they were "unsafe",
"unsanitareh",
and "unhospitible".
so gran-pappy stayed.
yes sir-ee, gran-pappy stayed
for three long years
with his banjo
and the growin' pile of slurpie cups in the corner
of that back room where it was cool.
until that one night
when gran-pappy called mama
a name the dog had done learned to respond to,
and mama said,
"jack,
just put him in the home!
a lady shouldn't be treated upon
in this mannuh."
that was the last i ever did see
of ol' gran-pappy,
but i still remember the last words he said to us:
"...and bring me back a slurpie,
it's one hot son of a ***** up in here
and i need somethin'
to cool me off a spell!"
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 3:29 PM UTC
Wind torn sails
and old wives tales
both tell a certain truth
like sailors forlorn
'round the cape horn
drowned or frozen to death
The waves and the wind
punish for sins
that frequently go untold
dare to begin that voyage to win
bring in the most liquid gold
Whaling was the name
of this sailors game
learned from my pappy before
when the tall ships call
you'll answer for all
the misgivings that you ever did
Swabbing the decks
like a beer hall *****
sickly from waves and decay
this is the life
for months at a time
from New England
to the ports of Biscay
First sign of a blow
shouts to below
from where the watch sits above
The decks come alive
thar be the prize
the deadly game awaits
Set sails to the wind
and get that boat in
harpoons and crew await
haul on the ropes
or abandon all hopes
the behemoth will get away
Hearts pound like the oars
sending us forth
Oh, how our quarry evades
better keep your eyes peeled
or your fate is sealed
if she comes up underneath
With a mighty hurrah
the striker lets fly
the harpoon sinks deep in the whale
it plunges below
taking us under tow
blood staining the deep blue waves
I cry for this sin
as we haul the whale in
and cut up all it had been
trade a shilling in the purse
for a life long curse
never to sleep again
When I shut my eyes
I can still hear the cry
up from it's blowhole it came
shivers my spine,every time
I bolt upright wide awake
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
an old man insists that you are his father. you cannot get rid of him. he is everywhere. always nagging "papa, pepep", but you don't respond
because you are most certainly not his father; that would be absurd. but he doesn't know that. he wants his pep pep.
you tell the police "get this old man away from me, keep him out" but they cannot find him. "elusive" they say. "cold case"
but you hear him always, whispering in your ear. "pep pep, make garlic bread." "pappy, cook toast, I'm hungry!"
no one can see him, no one can hear him nag. the old man drives you mad, he is your old man, and you are his pep pep
are you his pappy? are you? you are his pep pep, his pap. are you still his pappy? you are his pep, his pappy pep, his pep pep mcpaps
FIN
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 10:54 PM UTC
I was danglin' my feet off the edge of that pretty throne
called Childhood..
swinging up and down and all aroun'
twistin, sometimes just dangling my feet, twin tin'...
and all the while, My pappies were standing by the picnic table,
talking about how sad it was
that they ******* a man.. ruined his life in fact..
and well, after all , thats just how it's gotta Be
it was accident and all... sort of
and I heard 'em telling a lie in fact!! a Whole Lie about this guy!!
an wasn't even nothin' that took place.. Nothin!!
and not one of 'um.. with enough integrity to say anything
so I sat there swinging.. thinking 'bout it all...
then,
I heard a man come up and say "problem solved ...he done killed himself..."
and it was then, that I saw the LIFE leave their bodies
everyone of them..
except ONE.....
lifted up like smoke
just left em...
knowing what they'd done
lied, hated.. ruined a person, took away his Name...his hope..
left 'em, with all the children unfinished..
not one son grown up yet
So I asked that One... what are gonna do?
and I Saw him Look... and SEE
the legacy of his Life
standing out like a Vision of the Grand Canyon
Pristine like....
and then suddenly, there was rivers inky Blackness flown' like crazy...
running thru the hollows
running,
like a River of unstoppable Magnitude
cutting through Rock like it was Nothin'
creating a whole new World of UNDERSTANDING.....
and he turned to me and said...
I'm gonna make it Right
For your Pappy...
and He did.
He saved my Life.
He fixed my breathing...
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 10:08 AM UTC
When my body is broiled with the crispening macabre glean of anxiety; I imagine myself to be a buoying loaf of cornbread in a torrent sea of acid.
my custard colored crust being licked away by the ravenous maw of the current, this is no terrain for a loaf of cornbread in the first place.
Ludicrous.
Perhaps if I joined the sun swept crystal island of idealism, I could be drenched in honey and bound frivolously in nectarous orchard fields.
But then, even here, I suppose a Raven may spot me and adorned with a vulturous sneer gobble me up in my blissful state there.
So where shall my pappy crumbling loaf of an existence reside?
In the trenches of unbridled realization, lapping me up in a despair riddled prison?
Or the land of beatitude and glee unfettered from the brutalizing truths of reality...
Perhaps there's some bridging ground between these two polar opposites...
but how should I know?
I'm merely a cornbread I can't declare cognizance.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 11:09 PM UTC
Mammy say don't fear the boll-weevil,
Just a bug, don't worry bout him.
But Pappy say the little devil evil,
so he believe in the cotton gin.
This Texas guy say he was an angel,
I followed lock-step, believed what he said.
Didn't seem to have any sharp angles,
he drank some poisoned koolaid now he dead.
Searched at end of rainbow for *** of gold
me be rich ***** no mo po *****
Leprechaun belief, I been told,
While head in sky searching, fell in trench.
Politician and preacher keep saying,
I hear their voice noise grind and grind,
vote for me girl and keep praying,
but in the end it make no nevermind.
I tink at de end of the day I just believe in me.
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 5:43 PM UTC
A hot scalding day
I sit motionless and stare at my fan
Moving to the left
Moving to the right
My face an icy stone magnet
Follows the movement
My distressed eyes try to follow the blades
Every time I feel that pappy chilled breeze
It makes me enjoy the little things
Because for that one short moment
I am not worried
I am not thinking
I am just…me
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 5:51 AM UTC
Offer up some of your dollar,
get ready,
to win, to lose
a little bit.
Offer up some of your gusto,
get on down,
to the local
gambling hall.
Offer up some of your love,
baby doll, don't kick me,
kiss me, when I'm down.
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 5:55 PM UTC
We covered a few Phobias in part one
But some people even fear the sun
But we will have more fun
Some people fear Spiders and Snakes
What about broken brakes?
Oh! for heaven sakes!
Some people fear ladders
Why does it matter?
Some people have all kinds of fears
Lions, Tigers and Bears
And some people fear all kinds of bugs
So don't go sweeping them under the rugs!
From roaches, ants and bees
That fear can take them to their knees!
Some people fear rodents
Like mice, rats, and flying bats
Or how about all kinds of lizards
Beat them up and take out their gizzards
You have to beat up your fears by facing them down
Or all around
And some people even fear Clowns
And I don't see why?
They make you happy
Some people even fear being a pappy
Some people fear enclosed spaces
And how about evil faces?
But there you have more fears from me
And there's more out there to be
Just stay tuned for part three!
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
Refrain:
He your pappy, but he dead now
Won't mess with yer head no more
No more.
Cos he dead now, he dead now
He dead now.
1.
Looking in this window. See 'em all warm inside.
Cold wind, him bitin' at my ankles.
Just look at 'em inside, all warm and cosy.
CHORUS:
Maybe gotta look inside
Won't get nothing on the outside
Yeah, gotta look inside
For a little bit o' lurve!
Never gonna turn your back on life.
Gotta take this shot of live
Gotta warm me up inside
'Fore the cold comes to claim me.
Gotta close all lonely spaces
With a little bit of love
So, I's gotta take a look inside.
2.
Don't mean to feel so mean. Just wanna feel part of something
(So) strange, with all 'em polar caps a-meltin',
We still don't have enough love!
3.
Looky here, now traipsin' down this ***** street
Seeking all along the edge of night
Huntin' warmth, hikin' smiles, hawkin' love and sellin' souls
What the hell are we doin' here?
4.
No, you don't always feel it
But there's a stink wind blowing out there
Suckin' at my poor soul, stealin' all my warmth
Yeah, (s)uckin' up my poor soul, takin' all our love!
Repeat refrain.
S T, 23 April 2013
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 5:38 AM UTC