"raccoon" poems
*****
The last time, I got an ********
gave the girl my ***** injection,
now I have a bad infection.
Never again did I get laid,
it's going on the second decade,
a new ***** I'd sure trade.
One ball black, one ball blue,
got no paddle for my canoe,
my Horton doesn't hear a Who.
***** swollen, like a balloon,
feeling like a rabid raccoon,
looks like a character from a cartoon.
My ***** hurts when I ***
why did this have to happen to me,
karma is on a laughing spree.
Life will never be the same,
swollen ***** man, is my nickname,
got no fortune, but 15 minutes of fame.
Was on a reality show with other freaks,
it was called house of the rising creeps,
I got booted off after only two weeks.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 2:23 PM UTC
It happened in the dead of night while I was slicing bread for a guilty snack.
My attention was caught by the scuttering of a raccoon outside my window.
That was, I believe, the first time I noticed my strange tendencies as an unusual
human.
I gave the raccoon a piece of bread, my subconscious well aware of the consequences.
Well aware that a raccoon that is fed will always come back for more.
The enticing beauty of my cutting knife was the symptom.
The bread, my hungry curiosity.
The raccoon, an urge.
The moon increments its phase and reflects that much more light off of my cutting
knife.
The very same light that glistens in the eyes of my raccoon friend.
I slice the bread, fresh and soft. The raccoon becomes excited.
or perhaps I'm merely projecting my emotions onto the newly-satisfied animal.
The raccoon has taken to following me.
You could say that we've gotten quite used to each other.
The raccoon becomes hungry more and more frequently, so my bread is always handy.
Every time I brandish my cutting knife the raccoon shows me its excitement.
A rush of blood. Classic Pavlovian conditioning. I slice the bread.
And I feed myself again.
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 5:44 PM UTC
Let the night in, for I'll be writin' the letters of light in the air.
Our bodies pulsate by the notes of gentle symphonies, and we adhere.
Two elements shakin' and mergin' into one.
We are makin' it and cravin' for more of this addictive fun.
The moonlight rays reach the shapes of the furniture, movin' along with the temperature, increasin' with each movement.
Like desert diamonds, we will reflect in the pearly sun.
You will be the meadow that I will prefer and the lover within my arms to cover. Until amusement, let my cries give you inducement.
From the color of sulfate, this night is glowin' with universal sparks.
We both have bewitchin' feels for each other.
I am tastin' honey on the curves of her skin, and we embark on the hill.
The darkness is sailin' on the waves of our unity.
We stomp on a bed full of cherries, and the night stays still.
She feeds me with her tempting body, and I see her lucid thrills.
I climb on her high balconies, and I am one with the moon,
drinkin' from the passion of her milky skin.
Our hearts entwined. I attune from the voice of the raccoon.
Her body is femininity incarnated into a guitar. I play on her strings, listenin' to the music from noon until dawn, bound to our emotional devotion. Our irresistible pleasure is bowing to our connection.
Nov 29, 2021
Nov 29, 2021 at 8:33 AM UTC
I find comfort in the news
Be it typhoons or drones
I feel like a 100 year old Camus
For he was a miserable little raccoon
Or should I say Morrissey?
But the bipolar king is lost at sea!
I think of Sylvia Plath and her oven
Incinerated in a jar or in a coffin?
I will mention roses in a second
But first, wear your veil
May I eat your cheeks?
I’m your psychopath with style
We bathed in herbs together
The pale ******* that shone
A reoccurring dream of two moons
I believe in reincarnation
bosoms, as the lunar eyes of an owl
Stars, rain, coffee, cigarettes and music
Few clichés, I forgot about your roses
One day I’ll strike the balance
between rhymes and passion
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
Let the night in, for I will write the letters of light in the air.
Our bodies pulsate by the notes of gentle symphonies, and we adhere.
Two elements shakin' and mergin' into one.
We are makin' and cravin' for more of this addictive fun.
The moonlight rays reach the shapes of the furniture, movin' along with the temperature, increasin' with each movement.
From the color of sulfate, this night is glowin' with universal sparks.
We both have bewitchin' feels for each other.
I am tastin' honey on the curves of her skin, and we embark on the hill.
The darkness is sailin' on the waves of our unity.
We stomp on a bed of cherries, and the night stands still.
She feeds me with her tempting body, and I see her lucidly.
I climb on her high balconies, and I am one with the moon,
drinkin' from the passion of her milky skin.
I attune from the voice of the raccoon.
Her body is femininity incarnated into a guitar.
I play on her strings, listenin' to the music from noon until dawn,
bound to our emotional devotion.
Nov 15, 2021
Nov 15, 2021 at 5:41 AM UTC
The back door. Green eyes and smelly fur! The werewolf comes for our kid. Its time! White Knight teddy armed with a wooden sword and Judy the red Raccoon and her magical red powers! Its time to vanquish this nightmare before it even starts! The werewolf tears down the back door and howls in the darkness. All we can see is the bright green eyes shining in the blackness. And there awaits White Knight Teddy and Judy the Red Raccoon! W.K.T lands a flurry of blows with his awesome unbreakable wooden sword as the werewolf cries in pain! Judy the Red then emits waves of magical red beams that knock the werewolf out the back door as it screams in fear and scampers back into the woods!
And so W.K.T And Judy the red Raccoon triumph over the would be nightmare that was trying to haunt their kid. NOT TONIGHT!!!
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 2:35 PM UTC
I'm the Emperor and my face looks like a prune.
I have dark circles around my eyes which also makes me look like a raccoon.
My name is Palpatine but I'm also known as Darth Sidious.
Everybody pukes when they see me because I look hideous.
I was able to trick Anakin Skywalker into turning to the Dark Side.
I actually convinced him that I had the power to save his bride.
I can't believe that I was able to turn him into a Sith Lord as easily as I did.
He actually believed that he could save Padme by killing Separatists and kids.
I thought that my new Death Star was safe from the rebels, I thought that I had won.
But Darth Vader dropped me into the main reactor of the Death Star to save his son.
Luke Skywalker removed Lord Vader's mask and he became Anakin Skywalker again.
I still can't believe that those **** Ewoks were the reason why my Empire didn't win.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
I was raised in the wild
With all the defiled
So my mood was mild
While bodies were piled
I was a lonely coyote
The other creatures didn't know me
Because I slinked in the shade
To avoid their detection
Loneliness is what I had to trade
To pass their inspection
Other animals couldn't brave the weather
Or their fragile arteries were severed
They laid there dead
I wondered if they ever lived
It went to my head
What this world can give
I saw the buzzards
Ring their buzzers
Then the maggots fed on their brain
While not understanding their pain
These images did me no good
While I was stuck in the woods
And I couldn't see the forest through the trees
I was lost
If I didn't find a home by winter I would freeze
In the frost
I tried to find a home in hollowed trees
But I was chased out by a bunch of bees
And the darkened caves
Seemed like shallow graves
When that's where bats play
But peaceful open meadows
Left me susceptible to attack
Everything seemed mellow
So I had to watch my back
Winter was approaching
And I saw no solutions
The cold air encroaching
Like frigid pollution
But my shady luck shifted
Once I was graciously gifted
A powerful and majestic horse
That put me on a better course
I ride the steed with a leather saddle
Made of skin stripped off simple cattle
It took the strength of an ox
To hold down this fox
Yet my domestication
Calls for celebration
Because now I live in a house
Without having to hide like a mouse
I can strut like a peacock
With a bird of my flock
It's a form of animal husbandry
Because you're in love with me
I'm the insistent critter
From a different litter
That saw life wither
From damage inner
I was a raccoon digging through the trash
Now I'm a phoenix rising from the ash
You're an agricultural guy
So vultures circle the sky
Looking to harvest your bountiful crop
They must smell death underneath it
Their presence makes my heart drop
And all I want to do is defeat it
But even as they get near
You remain here
We stand together as scarecrows
In a defensively unified paired row
This is the delightful day
You end all my wild ways
And eliminate my suffering
With your animal husbandry
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
When education was restricted
They ran to religion
When solace was stripped away
They ran to martyrdom
Loved ones fell
Hated ones rose
As hearts sank
To the depths of the maelstrom
Fueled by the unholy trinity
Value, vindication, and violence
Bombs decimate Afghan villages
With the precision
Of a needle hitting a vein
And as casually
As a contractor putting a dollar in his pocket
The rubble of their town
Lost in a mist of dust
The rubble of their minds
Lost in a mist of vengeance
The rabid dog chases the subjugated raccoon
The raccoon discovers a sacred hole and hides in it
The predator attempts to encroach the void
The raccoon quivers in it's sanctuary shelter
Finding relief as the hound becomes stuck
And laughs as the infected beast starves to death
But ecstasy turns to terror
As the raccoon realizes it's only way out of this hole
Is being blocked by the gargantuan corpse
Terror turns to sorrow
As the raccoon starves to death
Alone
In the dark
It's holy land now hell
For once it had protected the raccoon from unbridled rabies
But since the hound's death
It's Cerberus size obstructs all progression
Holes become graves
And prey are left to pray
For someone to drop a bomb and clear a path
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 4:45 AM UTC
**** why did you come to this dance
with a mask on? Why not the tin man
and his rainbow girl? Why not Racine,
his hair marcelled down to his chest?
Why not come as a stomach digesting
its worms? Why you little fellow
with your ears at attention and your
nose poking up like a microphone?
You whig emblem, you woman chaser,
who do you dance over the wide lawn tonight
clanging the garbage pail like great silver bells?
4.7k
Jake the Snake
F J McCarthy on Jan 9, 2009
Jake was a snake, who felt incomplete.
For all of his friends all seemed to have feet.
Jake had no feet and it made him so sad,
As he watched his friends run with the feet they all had.
The raccoon and the squirrel had big furry tails,
But all that Jake had were leathery scales.
Jake watched the birds flying up in the sky.
How wonderful indeed to know how to fly.
Jake watched the fish as they swam in the lake.
Swimming was one thing that was easy for Jake.
Sometimes he would swim, then lie in the sands.
He’d think how he’d look with feet or with hands.
One day he was laying in the sun on the sand.
When he heard such a noise he could not understand.
I must see what is wrong , Jake said with a frown.
For something is troubling the whole Forest town.
He saw all of his friends by the rocks on the hill.
Then he saw mother Robin and she looked very ill.
He asked his friend Mr. Rabbit why Mother Robin was crying?
“Her baby fell out of the nest while she was out flying”.
“How is the baby, was he hurt by the fall.?”
“the baby is fine, but he’s trapped in this wall”.
Jake studied the wall,and looked at the crack.
“Has anyone tried to get baby bird back?”
The chipmunk and squirrel said the crack was to small.
And not even the mole could dig through that wall.
Mr. Field-mouse said “I could fit through the crack.
But the bottom is deep. How would I get back?”
Then Jake started thinking and in the blink of an eye.
“I’m the thinnest of all so I’m going to try.”
Jake asked Mr. Raccoon to lend him a hand.
They climbed up the wall and Jake told him his plan.
Mr. Raccoon held Jake’s tail and lowered Jake down the hole.
Just then baby bird let out a wail, for Jake had found his goal.
“Climb on my neck ” Jake said to the bird “and hold on really tight.”
Raccoon pulled them up as the whole forest watched this wonderful Marvelous sight.
First came up baby and afterwards Jake.
Then everyone cheered what a wonderful snake.
He’s saved baby bird and everyone knew it.
Of all the forest animals only he could do it.
The chipmunk and squirrel and even the mole.
Had not a hope to get down that hole.
Yet Jake with his body so long and so thin.
Saved baby bird from the fix he was in.
Jake felt so happy, he didn’t need feet.
Or a big furry tail to make him complete.
“I am very complete”cried Jake. “I’m so happy to be just a snake.”
Then baby bird said in a voice rather small.
“Don’t make that mistake, your not just a snake.
Your my friend and a hero, your Jake the Snake.
The very best snake of all!
May 17, 2010
May 17, 2010 at 7:10 PM UTC
Pour savoir le jour et l'heure
Où tu es plus portée à l'amour
J'ai entrepris la lecture des Secrets de l'Amour, du poète Koka
Et je sais désormais que tu es femme-lotus
Volupté Parfaite comme il n'en existe qu'une sur un million
Tu me provoques, tu me charmes, tu me fascines
Tu me subjugues, tu es ma Muse, ma courtisane de haut rang
Tu possèdes les soixante-quatre arts libéraux
Et les trente-deux modes musicaux de Radha,
Amante de Krishna,
Tu es multiple de huit, ma biche-jument-éléphante
Tu es magique et ensorceleuse
Tu t'appelles Padmini, Ganika
Tu es espiègle , tu es folâtre, ma Nanyika
Avec toi je peux m'unir sans péché
Ma pudique impudique
Car tu sais tout ce qu'on peut faire
Quand les lumières sont éteintes
Et les passions enflammées.
Tu sais apprendre à parler aux perroquets et aux sansonnets
Tu pratiques les combats de coqs, de cailles et de pigeons
Tout comme les combats de la langue
Tu sais faire un carrosse avec des fleurs.
Je ne sais encore si je suis homme-bleu, Homme-lièvre ou homme-cerf
Moi qui me croyais homme-raccoon,
Homme-orphie et homme-mangouste
J'ai baisé l'image de ton ombre portée
Sur l'oreiller rose ce matin
Un baiser de déclaration
Un plaisir sans merci et sans trève
Que ton ombre m'a rendu
En me besognant
De la langue, des mains et des pieds
Et de toutes nos parties honteuses comme honnêtes
Baiser pour baiser,
Caresse pour caresse,
Coup pour coup,
Corps pour corps,
Yoni pour lingam !
Que d'égratignures tu m'as infligées de tes ongles acérés
La patte de paon et le saut du lièvre
Me marquent à jamais
Et je t'ai imprimé sur ta chair la feuille de lotus bleu.
Et de morsures en morsures
J'ai saisi avec mes lèvres tes deux lèvres
Tandis que tu jouais à me saisir la lèvre inférieure.
Si tu rêves comme moi d'impudiques amours
Si tu rêves comme moi d'écrire un nouveau chapitre
Aux huit cents vers du Ratira-Hasya,
Les Secrets de l'Amour, du poète Koka,
Retrouvons nous en congrès, veux-tu,
Avant que l'été ne s'achève
Au congrès de la femme-lynx-lotus et de l'homme-raccoon-mangouste
Si tu rêves d'impudiques amours
Si tu veux que je chante ta semence d'amour
Ton kama solila, mélange de lys et de musc.
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 5:58 AM UTC
If you were reincarnated as an animal
Knowing everything you do now
Would you treat humans differently than animals already do?
Or would you bite the hand that beats?
Or would you bite the mouth that eats?
Would you treat humans kindly?
That could be a bullet finding
I come across a shivering raccoon
Stuck inside a winter monsoon
It's too young to survive
I could help I surmise
Its coat can't protect its form
In my car it's nice and warm
But I don't understand the raccoon
And I fear it doesn't understand me
Though I'm not proud of it
I travelled around it
Mosquitoes want your blood to survive
The same way I want your love to arrive
There's a pestering orbit
Your teeth grind and grit
I feel the need to feed
I am overcome by greed
I want you inside me
So I insert my proboscis
And you turn into colossus
It's an animal process
When you squash us
So animals grow stingers
And poison that lingers
When we use our fingers
To smash them
And detach them
From our humanistic existence
They have a reproductive resistance
So we keep fighting
And they keep biting
Because there's no end in sight
When we see animals take flight
We define anything different as animal
This is our excuse to act tyrannical
They feel our wrath
When they're in our path
We turn them into roadkill
This world becomes a landfill
Our hollowed humanity on the shelf
We treat animals as we treat ourself
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
The squirrels played havoc around the house,
picking stuffing from the porch swing,
packing it into their cheeks, until they were swollen,
pregnant, to fluff their nests with synthetic cotton.
They bounded about the yard stopping to squeeze
fallen walnuts, like supermarket melons, to see
if they were ripe or rotten. Their neighbors,
the gopher and raccoon and rabbit
were overrun by the squirrels myriad brood.
Some (squirrels) sought refuge in refuse, chewing large
holes in the trash bins. This would feed many a raccoon’s
hungry mouth, but none of them would show thanks.
When the numbers began to spill over from the trees,
the squirrels began occupying the gutters, causing sheets
of ice to cataract, frozen down the sides of the house,
and then when the old man found stuffing from his swing
in the attic, enough had become enough. Something
had to be done. This blatant malfeasance must
be dealt with, and so he would devise a plan, a trap.
The old man stood watching the plump little devils
bounce and leap around his yard, when he saw the bin.
And wriggling the fingers on his upturned paw, a sinister
plan curled onto his face in a dark smile. He went out
to the trash bin and filled it with water, only halfway,
no more. He dropped a lightly pumped, bald
basketball into the bin, and smiled when the first
squirrel drowned in it. Everyday, the old man wriggled
his fingers and smiled his dark smile,
until he found synthetic swing stuffing
in his bed, and realized he had lost.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 1:07 PM UTC
I like slandering your makeshift forceps.
I hammer you down with watery *** and then spill
the remainder on the couch. Yarg! A diamond’s
worth at least a small intestine, and you
are worth whatever’s left over after night
has upended itself, poured sideways out of its
shellacked crawlspace, and turned the basement sour.
There are remnants of you in the park,
some red stain by the baseball field where,
if you’ll remember, you watched little leaguers
build teamwork, and faint splotches on tree bark
from your lactations which, if you’ll remember, happened
every morning. I whisper your godforsaken name
and am slapped in the head. The children cry
when I smile. I cry when the children smile. Good
heavens. I forbid you from not entering my corridor,
even as I set up a barricade. I like my water scalding,
my passion chilled, and I like you in easy-to-
swallow doses. I like you in my eggs.
Ditto the faucet, keyboard, the occasional lily,
but do not mess with my pearls. I mumble of apodictic
meadows while I sleep. What can I say?
I do not mumble of unclogging your bathtub,
which has a certain foul repute, and has grown
heavy and ugly with your hair, which is everywhere,
just as you are everywhere, and wherever, and so
********* hidden it’s not funny anymore, we stopped
looking some millennia ago, after scouring the drainpipes,
kicking down your doors, dissecting your mattress,
speculating about your burial site, etcetera, and even so
we have not been really looking all this time, have we,
just blaring your name through the speakers,
putting wrong numbers on our calling cards, leaving
uncooked meat out on the back porch as if you were
a raccoon, oh, or a lion, which you are not, or not
quite, though, as the books say, you have honey
in your stomach, and if you could but be
ripped open we would taste and see.
May 25, 2010
May 25, 2010 at 8:21 PM UTC
mr moonlight
mr nowhere
maxwell edison
mr jones
dr robert
sgt pepper
mr kite, bb king
edgar allen poe
walter raleigh
mat busby
the hendersons
and maggie mae
mr mustard
captain marvel
rita lucy jojo
vera chuck and dave
mother nature
polethene pam
mr heath doris day
and buffalo bill
loretta martin
**** sadie
hey jude eggman
my michelle
rigby and pilchard
or elenor and semolina
took father mckenzie
too see a dancing horse
henry his name was
rocky raccoon was there
prudence rode elephant
to the i me mine waltz
---
There gonna crucify me
the way things go
christ it aint easy
the next day dont know
you know the walrus was paul man
johns bird can sing
george was a genie
ringo wore a ring
but paul is dead now
george stole his soul
john is alive though
ringos in a hole
her royal highness the tax man
commit the perfect crime
she asked for more
with a belly full of wine
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC
It didn't matter if it was
August, and the air felt like an
oven on broil, or if it was
February, and the dumpsters
were icecicles to the soul.
We needed ***** and since we
didn't have jobs, the cans, at
5 cents a piece were our
aluminum tickets to sweet relief.
The magic click.
Enough cans meant a bottle of
whiskey
*****
gin,
anything to dull the
sharp, vivid pain of life.
We sifted through
cat ****
catsup
***** diapers
discarded ***** mags,
and all the other
garbage from the
rich and the poor.
One winter morning,
I threw back a heavy metal lid,
and there was a fat
raccoon looking up at me.
If Bacchus or Dionysus were
smiling, we found a
full bottle.
It happened once in
a while during summer when
the college kids headed home.
Miles of walking,
freezing or burning up,
We were the aluminum
cowboys.
Jul 2, 2025
Jul 2, 2025 at 12:34 PM UTC
trapped in a ribcage
frail and fretting and fettered
hummingbird heart beats harder and harder
your skeleton fingertips tilling the ground
combing for the catacombs
of all your past lives
look what i have done for you
teeth marks to chart your growth
black red purple sky no stars no light no
for thine is the kingdom, the dead leaf diadem
battle-ready raccoon eyes, scored and scowling
if you do not run you will be left behind.
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 2:49 AM UTC
**** it then,
Let the strangers be scared.
I wanna bend you over a chair,
Lift up your skirt
Rip off your underwear
Wrap a hand around your throat
Grab a handful of your hair
And bury myself deep
As I feel you gasp for air.
I want to beat you, but not
out of Anger or Hate,
I want to treat you like a Queen
until you plead
to be *****
And then I will Take You
Violate You
Invade You
Your Body
Is a Temple
I'll Pray at
And then Raze.
I want to leave you,
Drenched in sweat
Raccoon Eyed,
Hair a mess
Satisfied.
While you recover,
I'll recharge-
and like a Lover,
I'll tend your Heart.
Until you can move
Again,
And tell me you have
The Energy
And I'll throw you back down on the Bed,
With the same violent intensity.
I'll love you with a vengeance,
My battering ram at your gates
As I conquer your sacred kingdom
in this
Incendiary Embrace.
My lust for you is Oppressive,
but my Love burns brighter than All
I want to be the Tyrant of your Body -
Absolute Control.
I want to hold you down by the wrists
and stare in your eyes as you cry my name
Drink in the dance of your perfect ****
As I assail you with pleasure and pain
I long to feel the quake of your legs
As ****** consumes you again
Heavenly Daughter of Eve,
I'll **** you like a Child of Cain.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
I watched the snow descend to earth
Attention sought as flakes give birth
Submit to all her majesty
Surrender clouded canopy
A freezing fox that runs across
The curtilage wild turkey's toss
A lofty oak tree hides raccoon
Two fledgeling birds lose their platoon
The strapping deer takes off in flight
See squirrels flee with all their might
An Owl concluding calls of whoo
The animals know too eschew
All happens when the snowflakes fall
Am spellbound by one flake or all
The memory each one contain
Unique like us and our domain
Snowflakes and animals I see
We all are different you and me
Is random chance its proximious?
Creation not dichotomous
Am thankful I could see this view
And freedom too believe it's true
_______________________________________________
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
*The men line up
Up against my brain
Too big for its skull
They bleed out my eyes
And eyelashes become their noose.
But you don't ever get in line.
So you won't be finished off.
Done, you sewn up creature,
Will you keep this name?*
Go ahead
Finish me off with your broken
Neck intentions
I see how your eyes flutter and shut
Like a hospital bed curtain
I see the hangmen
Dangling from your
Eyelashes
*Slowly fire red
blood dries to a maroon
and, there, a raccoon
mocks your crawling carcass*
Ha ha you know the rhyme then
Again and again
I'm looking for someone who can understand
Awkward crisscrossing needle and thread
Your hands are stained red with my blood
Now you are gone
Your absence leaving
Bleeding bullet holes
That anyone can walk
By and put their fingers in
I love the quick high
The exasperated rush but
I wish now you did not leave
Such a perfect exit wound
*Needle and thread shaking
But Why? Haven't I done this before?
A thousand times
Change his name.
Sew him up.
Scared every time.*
You changed your name
A thousand times since last we met
I am cold and tired my wounds deep
I love you no-name
Sew me up
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 10:04 AM UTC
Raccoon tapping on the windowpane
Fuzzy beggar, growing tame
Evenings longer, midnights colder
My love and I
Just a little bit older
Quarter moon above the trees
Wind blows softly, rustling leaves
Would you love me if I lost my hair?
No, my dear
And don't you dare
Dog curling up by the potbelly stove
Whiskers peek from the old mouse hole
Grandma's quilt has a brand new patch
No more cookies
Or I'll get fat
Rocking chair got a squeak again
Sniff the air, smells like rain
Horned owl hoots from out the wood
I believe
All life is good
Before I die I want to know
All the winds and why they blow
All the forests, every stream
Why you smile, babe
When you dream
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
Raccoon eyes,
Black hair dyes
Spiked teased hair
Saying "i dont care"
To hot to cold
Said in bold
Palmers lane
Little youngens playing
Music screaming
Carefreeing
Having fun
Sun to sun
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 5:53 PM UTC
Ma Jalouse, Mon Unique, Mon Ultime
Sais-tu ce que Lord Invader, Sam Manning
Cyril Monrose, Charlie Parker, Louis Armstrong
Jack Sneed et Ernest Rangling
Sans oublier Blue Glaze Mento Band et Phil Madison ?
Et je m'arrête là pour l'instant,
Sais-tu ce qu'ils ont en commun ?
Eh bien vois-tu, ce sont tous mes ombres.
Tu ne pourras jamais me comprendre
Si tu ne les comprends pas
Et si tu ne sais pas ce que représentent pour moi
La mangouste et le raccoon.
De même que pour te comprendre il faut avoir lu tout Dostoievski
Pour me comprendre il faut avoir écouté tout Sly Mongoose
Car peut être n'as-tu vu en moi qu'aria et boléro, symphonie et concerto
Alors je t'explique : pour comprendre, n'essaie pas de philosopher
Lève-toi et bouge tout simplement et tu toucheras l 'essence
C'est du folklore, c'est du reggae, c 'est du mento, c'est du calypso, c'est du jazz,
C'est instrumental ou c'est vocal
C'est moi, mes ascendances et descendances.
Sly Mongoose c'est mes Frères Karamasov
Smerdiakov, Aliocha, Ivan et Dmitri
C'est mon Idiot, mon prince Lev Mychkine
C'est mon Joueur, mon Alexei Ivanovitch
Mon Rêve d'un Homme Ridicule
Et Raskolnikov errant dans la nuit dans Crime et Châtiment.
Sly Mongoose c'est l'histoire d'une mangouste maline
Qui a baptisé la fille du pasteur
De son eau sainte
Et qui fuit la Jamaïque
Et part à l'étranger
Après son forfait.
C'est l'histoire d'une mangouste qui vole les poules les plus grasses de la cuisine
Et qui les met dans la poche de son veston
C'est l'histoire d'une mangouste qui entre dans la cuisine d'un prédicateur
Et qui repart avec une des poules les plus grasses
Et tous les chiens savent son nom.
il s'appelle Sly Mangoose
Il est malin, il est vicieux, le compère
C'est mon ombre, que veux-tu
Et parfois pour échapper aux prédateurs
Il prend l'apparence de l'ombre d'un raccoon.
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 6:05 AM UTC
I'm sorry that I got saltwater all over your shoulder
and that I clung to you like I was a
jungle animal and you were a tree.
I can't help it if my mascara isn't waterproof
and sticks to my face
making me look
like a raccoon.
And even though my eyes turn a stunning shade of sea-foam,
I hate this.
I hate that I can't breathe.
It's like my chest collapses like a stubborn child,
and the only way it comes back up
is if you feed it all the pain and sorrow you so
willingly vomited out in the first place.
I hate how my face gets all red and wet
and no matter how hard I try,
I won't dry off.
Looking like a raccoon isn't half bad,
but looking like the
reflection of the state your heart is in
is a different story.
I hate that my eyes burn and my face feels
raw from all of the attempts to dry it off.
I hate that when someone asks me, "Are you okay?"
my eyes decide to flood like a broken dam
pouring over innocent living things.
I envy them because at least they are alive.
Really alive.
While I'm just sitting here
moping over what everyone else thinks is nothing.
Well, my nothing is something.
And that something means more to me
than anything that they could ever dream to have.
And I'm sorry I look this way.
I'm even sorry that I feel this way.
But I will never be sorry that what I have has meaning
because that's all I need.
And that's all I've ever needed.
Because I am alright.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC