"phillies" poems
Random Sampling
Coughing up a lung,
sticking out my tongue.
Looking up her skirt,
dropped my pencil in the dirt.
Watching movies just for fun,
I will never own a gun.
Cat **** on the floor,
kicked it out the door.
Jake The Snake and The Macho Man,
will forever be a wresting fan.
Heavy metal and hard rock,
Skid Row's singer was Sebastian Bach.
New Jersey's pizza is the best,
it would beat New York's in any taste test.
Slept with girls, I didn't like,
soon after, I made them take a hike.
Never slept with a man,
if the money was right, I guess I can.
Love all my family and friends,
mess with them and I will defends.
Done some killer drugs,
stuck screwdrivers in some plugs.
I love paper, I love pen,
I'm more smart than the Three Wise Men.
Pina Colada's in Margaitaville,
then I take the bitter pill.
I still love eighties music,
it's relaxing and therapeutic.
Baseball is my favorite sport,
the Phillies, I will always support.
The next Super Bowl will be held in San Quentin,
***** girls take it on the chin.
I had a few nervous breakdowns,
I've put on a few to many pounds.
Allen does what Allen wants,
how's that for my final response.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 11:38 AM UTC
The Village was nearly swallowed by darkness,
Until I stumbled upon a fresh fluorescent light,
Emitting an eerie glow out of a subtle all-night diner.
Suddenly, eyeballs projected a noir-style movie.
This unique heaven lit a cemented pathway,
Which led toward nowhere but American desolation.
Exploration of blank stores was not an option;
A disconnected joint across the open street was obvious.
The cornered beacon called to me as if dreams lived,
Though the seamless wedge of glass deflected observation,
Onto the viewer I represented, isolated from the anonymous.
Lungs were not interested in Phillies, only graveyard shift.
The scene held four strangers shut in spacious congregation.
The figures filled in the white void with physical presence,
While each owl was remotely lost in their own thoughts.
Was it the tragedy that occurred at Pearl Harbor,
Possibly the hopelessness World War II offered?
Could it have been the disappearance of happy innocence in ’42?
Hopper alone can probably discover a whole to the loss of words.
Somehow the constructed simplicity was overwhelming:
When late night minds meet morosity yet still produces beauty.
Subjected into one, the loneliness of a large city can exist too.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
For my Pop Pop
I want to see you.
Even in your frailty
As your bones shake in the gentle wind like chimes
I want to be close to you.
Your flesh is nearly transparent
The veins in your face and the thinning of your silver hair
Make you look much older than the 71 years
That have left rings on your skin.
Some say you were a poor father
And an even poorer husband.
You never got along with my aunt
Your daughter
Your beam of light shining through the sidewalk cracks
And she began to shine for other people
But her brightness reflected off of ice
And I know her coldness is not merely human nature.
Pop Pop, why were you always so kind
To my sister and me?
It's like we thawed your hardened spirit
So we could see the softness lying underneath.
Funny how it's just natural
For a three year-old and a newborn to make a grown man crumble.
I don't want to think about the fact that you may never walk again
Because your disease can never steal where we've been
Although, perhaps mundane
Steak-and-Shake, our rented condo,
And plenty of barbecue spare rib joints later
All meant the world to me.
I wish I could say something other than
The last time I saw you was on my sixteenth birthday.
It's been over a year since you stayed in the Sunshine State
And I traveled home to my garden
Pop Pop, it was hard as the years went by
The only way we got to know you was through $20 gift certificates
And the static on the other end of the telephone
On birthdays and holidays.
I wish I had called you more
Because now it's hard for you to speak.
Daddy said you had a shotgun subtlety when you spoke
"How bout them Phillies?"
"Oh....the cancer spread."
"Have you been to a game in a while?"
Pop pop, now I'm the one who's shotgun subtle
"How's the hospital food?"
I'm scared I won't get to see you
"How are you feeling?"
I'm scared you won't get better
I love you, Pop.
I'm scared.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 6:03 PM UTC
Yankees, Reds and Red Sox
Royals, Rockies, Braves
Mariners and White Sox
Cardinals, Blue Jays
Angels, Orioles, Diamondbacks
Nationals and Twins
Tigers, Brewers, Pirates
Astros, Indians
Dodgers, Rangers, Mets and Cubs
Phillies and Padres
Giants, Marlins and the A's
Let's not forget those Devil Rays
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 11:36 AM UTC
Mustangs , best beasts on hooves
Fly all day without wings
Tough as a Rocky Mountain blizzard
Unforgiving as any rings on reins
Tough as any ******** rider
I tame my phillies like Mustangs
With gentle persuasion
And kisses of sugar
Hugs aplenty
Make them my best friend
I whisper softly , come here philly dear
Let me whisper in your ear
I am cruel , hard , it appears
Soft unto your soul
Make me your fool
With whip and rope I pace you
Around until I mount you
Taking you by your mane
I will make you
Make your mind , mine
My you strut your stance
You do dance untill
I take you by force
And of course
Make you whinny
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC
prepare for the hittin
once the beat punch in
ya know im deadening
rude awakening
wake n bake never split the cake
50 50 down the middle
i want it all cant fall
if im the tallest never the smallest
regardless if fools hate this
ill just take this rhyme
and rip you up
like a machete
chop ya body up
then grind it like spaghetti
smoke phillies
ya know the dealie
got girlies sloppin the *****
til they silly
mortal like combat ya die quick
trying tie with
the wickedest
emcees im sick of this
everybody sounds the same
once i ignite the flame
burn all of those
til a salt grain
endure in pain
like hells household strong hold
on the game ill never let go
**** you hoes
Been down from the jump though
fools that hate get kidnapped
and drags puff buddha bags
afro with a red bandana flag
**** the source and the other mags
despise ****
i could trade in my rhymes
and itll amount to price
of fo jags...
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 9:15 PM UTC
I Hate/I Love
I hate people that are wrong,
I hate people that don't belong,
I hate smoking from a ****
I love women that are black,
I love women that are white,
I love women that are tight.
I hate gossip, I hate drama,
I hate using an inverted comma,
I hate Presidents,
that look like a black llama.
I love a cheap *****
I love how they wear that special stamp,
I also love lamp.
I hate American Idol,
I hate Glee,
I hate a lot, don't you agree.
I love money,
I love fame,
I love my picture, in a golden frame.
I hate things that are weak,
I hate people that are too nice,
I hate saying the same thing twice,
I hate saying the same thing twice.
I love wrestling, even though it's fake,
I love the Phillies, if you wanna talk baseball,
I love that with me, you're all in awe.
I hate begging,
I hate asking,
I hate my car, when I'm crashing.
I love family,
I love friends,
I love the way this poem ends.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 9:30 AM UTC
_Impressions of Philadelphia: May 20-8, 2023_
A masked saint dressed in dollar bills. Stuffed rice ***** Cannolli. Italian street festival
Bentley and Porsche. Bright sequins everywhere. Side-slit, backless, plunging. Metal detectors. Prom night downtown.
On the median, a barber and a man. Haircuts for the homeless.
Black tattoos, ankle to cheek. Dark lips. Green and blonde hair. Who needs a bra? City girl, Philly girl.
Bike paths everywhere downtown. Few bikes but lots of scooters. Lancaster county too.
Belly button here, belly button there, here a navel, there a navel, everywhere navel-navels. Philadelphia Innies ‘n outies.
Bright colors, weathered colors. Loving, nurturing, and plain strange. Gayborhood murals.
1st post master, mapped the gulf stream, lightening catcher, 9 Atlantic crossings. “I never discovered anything, I just made it useful”. Ben Franklin.
Overnight parking $300. At the Delaware, across from Camden.
The Rocky statue outside the art museum, golden Diana within.
Statues hanging from every other building. Avenue of the Arts.
Drexel, Temple, U-Penn. Unsolved murders. The campuses.
ATV rodeo every night. Rrrumm, rummm! Broad Street after 6.
Phillies 12 - Cubs 3. $8 hotdogs. Citizens Bank Field.
“All things considered, I’d rather be in Philadelphia”. W.C. Fields
Jun 2, 2023
Jun 2, 2023 at 10:54 AM UTC
Mentally I am at Phillies with my final
coffee of the evening, milk
frothed to perfection, a woman
in a cerise blouse who greets
my eyes with a noiseless hello
but this is not 1942, no
salt shakers and once-
bitten sandwiches.
There's a child in a red puffer
who waddles absentmindedly,
the spittle of his bearded father
I can almost feel fleck
my cheek. His tired cherry-lipped mother
pointing a finger, then
another, mouths opening
as if operated
by an unseen string and strangers
who scoff at the hawks in the room,
both jolted by each other's next barb,
with a toddler oblivious to art, to
shades, to the thorns his loved
ones drape across their throats,
this spat like a blot on the canvas
of my afternoon reverie
where I need a stronger tipple
and to make it home before the rain.
Mar 19, 2023
Mar 19, 2023 at 8:29 PM UTC