"ricky" poems
Well let’s peek into the kitchen of Lucy and Ethel to see the baking of this 7 Layer Cake
On cue in take
Ricky is having a party in his home regarding his 10th Anniversary in managing the Night Club called “A little bit of Cuba”
He wanted something fancy
Did he say fancy?
There’s no telling what Lucy has baked into that cake
Lucy and Ethel are busy baking away
But somehow that cake is going to cause people to make a quick getaway
Now remember, this is not the Pillsbury bake off, but should say “Revenge with back off”
At this point, you are allowed to cough
The cake is in the pan and ready for the oven
As the cake is baking, Lucy and Ethel are entertaining the guest
This is not at any one’s request
While Lucy talks about Hollywood and show business, do you smell something burning?
Luc y shouts, “My cake!”
But was it too late?
Lucy and Ethel rushed to the oven
The cake was half burned and didn’t rise
Why am I not surprised?
Meanwhile, what is Lucy and Ethel going too serve for dessert?
Lucy says, “I have a plan”
Let’s open a can of fruit cocktail and add it inside the burned cake
But Ethel stats with, “How will the guest respond?”
Lucy proclaims, “Who cares, they can’t know the cake was burned
Well the dessert will be served
Think on eat at your own risk being observed
As Lucy and Ethel serve the cake, suddenly one of the guest get sick from eating the cake
Lucy of course starts to cry
Yet the baking that cake was a good try
Eat at your own risk said I.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
Atari clouds are digital ziggurats,
and rather minimal at that.
The sounds are Amiga.
Welcome to the eighties.
Your hair is big,
your clothes are odd,
and Nagel is a minor god.
Welcome to the eighties.
There is a plague
and ACT UP's rage,
but Reagan will not act his age.
For six years, he will say nothing.
Generation X gives birth to Y,
future hipsters to vilify.
All music is vinyl or cassette.
Rocks stars still wear epaulets.
There are two Coreys, podded peas.
Terrorists stay overseas.
Boy bands aren't quite yet in vogue.
Menudo carries a heavy load.
Ricky Martin is still straight.
Cimino ***** with Heaven's Gate.
Cindy Sherman is everyone.
Johnny Hinckley got his gun.
Welcome to the eighties.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
MY NEICE IS A AN OLD ROCK AND ROLL SINGER OF THE PAST
YOU SEE MY NIECE CAITLIN IS A ROCK SINGER
JUST LIKE MY BROTHER IS
THERE COULD BE PREVIOUS LIVES STORIES HERE
LIKE SHE COULD BE ROY ORBISON OR RICKY MAY
OR SOMEONE BETTER, CAUSE MY NIECE CATLIN
IS SO PERFECT AT SINGERS, IT GOES FURTHER THAN GENES
IF MY MATE PAUL BERENYI DIED IN 1995 LIKE A ****** TOLD ME
HE COULD BE CAITLIN, BUT YOU CAN’T TRUST OTHER PEOPLE
BETTER JUST TRUST THE NEWS
AND NO MATTER WHO CAITLIN WAS IN HER PREVIOUS LIFE
SHE SHOULD ****** CHOOSE, WHAT IS A HER CHARACTER
I AM JUST CRONUS THE POWERFUL GOD
I CAN TELL IF I HAVE THE INTERNET FACTS
I CAN FIND PREVIOUS LIFE PATTERNS
BY, WORKING OUT WHEN PEOPLE DIE
AND HOW MANY YEARS, AND NORMALLY IF THEY YELL
THEY WERE EITHER, KIDNAPPERS, OF OLD HOOLIGANS OF THE PAST
BUT CAITLIN IS A GREAT SINGER, AND SHE HAS SOME PREVIOUS LIFE PATTERN
I KNOW MY BROTHER IS A SINGER TOO, BUT THERE IS MORE THAN THAT I KNOW
LIKE, I WAS ISABELLA OF FRANCE, I WAS THEIR FAMILIES ENTERTAINER
I KNOW SCOTT MCDONALD WANTED TO TEASE ME
SO HE DIED AND BECAME TWO CATS, LUCKY THE CAT WHO WILL TEASE DAD
WHEN IT RAINS, AND MUSCLES WAS TO SAY ONLY ANIMALS DO WHAT I DID BACK THEN
THAT IS WHY THE GUYS TEASED ME
IF PAUL DID DIE, IN 1995, HE COULD BE MY NIECE CAITLIN
BECAUSE NOW I MENTION IT, IT COULD’VE BEEN BEFORE 1995 WHEN I SAW HIM
AT TUGGERANONG WITH ANTHONY COSTA WATCHING BASKETBALL
BUT I KNOW DAD IS IN THE ****** OF LISA CAMPBELL, WITH ROBIN WILLIAMS
WHAT I AM TRYING TO DO, IS BRING MY FAMILY HAPPINESS
CAITLIN COULD BE PAUL BERENYI, OR COULD BE ROY ORBISON
AND NO MATTER WHO SHE IS, SHE IS MY NIECE, AND SUSAN IS MY OTHER NIECE
AND I LOVE THEM BOTH TO BITS
AND NOW, THE RAIN IS COMING CAUSED BY PAUL BERENYI
SAYING NO MATTER WHO I AM, CRONUS SHOULD KEEP IT DOWN
GO TO BED USA, AS THERE IS A BIG SURFING TOURNAMENT IN MERCURY
ORGANISED BY THE TERRORISTS, TO CALM THE HEAT, AND NOT **** THEIR HOOLIGAN
BUT CRONUS TELLS DAD, TO KEEP THEM STRAPPED IN THE SUN
WHERE NO WATER CAN SAVE THEM, THEY’LL SUFFER
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 1:55 AM UTC
Sometimes it’s something, as
Simple and clean, tapping my
***** hat forwards, and
Kicking my back heel against
The wall.
Sometimes it’s the dank cavern
Of a Dodge’s backseat.
The frozen entrance to the
Diseased freeway, breathing words
Of tragedy and paranoia.
But, sometimes, it’s
The painted landscape of a
Beach, that hung in the
Girl’s TV room, Lodged in place.
I contact my mind’s
Travel agent, to find it, and
Wearing Ricky’s sweatshirt I
Stare at the open water.
Mindful of sharks,
And the smell of ***
Or sometimes, Svedka.
Or I’ll stare into Sam’s eyes,
Wishing instead to be
Spying the bottom of
Jacky’s bottle.
Or Mary’s bowl.
And when my *** hits the ground,
I’ll look up, this time,
And just like last time, the
Trees will melt. Dripping like
Engine sludge, onto a pavement.
Behind the pool of
Vaporized reality, walls of
Fire rise, so I’ll sit
Back a bit.
But sometimes, it is too much.
And I’m down on my
****** kneecaps,
Appealing to the apparitions.
Begging for a
Box of wine.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 2:22 PM UTC
Have I got a story for you?
Let me tell you about this pursue
Ms. Piggy and ****** hooked up
They went out on a date
However the Chef suggested that Ms. Piggy should be on a plate
****** explained to the Chef Ms. Piggy was his date
Ms. Piggy responded to the Chef, “Are you sure you can relate as I am Ms. Piggy and you are not Pretty Ricky”
The Chef then dashed away
Ms. Piggy and ****** continued on having their togetherness in say
Ms. Piggy wanted a little wine with her dine
But ****** had something else in mine
Well Ms. Piggy got a little tipsy
She was acting more like the Queen of the Gypsies
Ms. Piggy started drinking out of her shoe
****** felt like Ms. Piggy was turning him into stew
The music was playing and Ms. Piggy demanded a dance
****** wanted to hook up in a romance
Ms. Piggy was so drunk
Her mind must was on stomp
Later Ms. Piggy called ****** a chump
That is when the fight broke out
Ms. Piggy and ****** began to shout
Dancing became in your face
Ms. Piggy’s anger I can’t erase
The whole evening became a date from hell in the trace
Ms. Piggy told ****** she was an important lady
****** shouted, “Only maybe baby”
Ms. Piggy told ****** good-bye
****** went his way in comply.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
Ricky May singe at Jupiter Moon, the after life
You see I was a Maori, who suffered a heart attack
It was because I ate too much food, and I felt like ****
But then I found this place up here in the solar system
And everyone was cheering me on, as if I was really known
You ser I stopped to ask the crown, how do you know me
This was something that really puzzled me
But then I looked around and saw John Lennon
And Adam Walsh,and I said to him, it was terrible what they did to you
And I walked around and I spoke to this man
And he told me he was a victim of a car accident
I asked him, how he survived and he said back
I didn't and then he took me by the hand, and said to me
Noone on earth can see us now, cause now we are in the afterlife
You see my heart left my body quick
And I wanted that heart to stay
You see I ain't ready to go, there are so many games I like to play
So some people said, play with us, we are playing Rugby League or Union
And then after that we had a BBQ
Where the coach bought out some methane
And I had some, and I thanked him
Yes, I felt good about being in the afterlife
You see I am living in a cave in Jupiter
Where we can view earth. Through the eyes of our earth bodies, oh yeah we can
And I see my family in New Zealand, and see them doing so very fine
It made me unhappy till Graham Kennedy said
Life is not so bad up here, you should know that
Because, have been up here longer than me, in the afterlife
Just rock the afterlife till it stops, oh yeah
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
There was a big boom once
Population dynamics are intrin-
sic functions of gumption
and big booms echo in eternity.
I look at the industrial revolution
through infrared filters
to parameterize the haze of our lives using
a kaleidoscope landmarking
technique andor technology
where the function of plutocracy
(and it is taking shape)
while it resonates on post-reformations
and pre-modernisms
How do you like them schizms?
Living the religion of
capital ~ ism
and paying homage on prayer mats of
blood ~ sweat ~ and 1, 2 many beers
through our blue collar dollars and
masonry jars and crossroads guitars
(and between the bars)
of our own creation.
Now moving toward remediation
and un-plebiation.
I cried vermouth and reconciliation while
they expunged truth and trylobytes.
The inevitability always bubbles up.
And in the trailer park of our lord: 2017
Ricky and Julian and Bubbles
pay homage to a great poet lost: Mr. Lahey.
(within the mystery of our own creation)
Thus we toast to: The Theatre of Life
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 6:09 AM UTC
Don Lane and Graham Kennedy entertain in the after life cafe
Don lane '. Oh yeah I am putting on my top hat, and I also wear nothing else
Because I am dead now, and I don't have to worry about being appropriately dressed,
And I also have a lady sitting over at the bar, and she has great looking legs and *****
I want to go over to her, hey lady, how are you going today
Lady'. I am fine, and I am Marilyn Monroe
Don Lane'. I would've loved to interview on my show
Marilyn'. No, I heard the afterlife was a good place for me, I was famous in life, I don't want to be famous here.
Don Lane'. Ok let's go to this table, I know you as well, refresh my memory
And yes Ricky May poured sixteen ice cubes all over Don and
Don said well, obviously these people didn't want to be famous, ok, who are you
Man said'. I am Don Bradman
Don Lane'. You died before me, have you showed the afterlife how you played cricket
Don Bradman'. Yes, and we beat Saturn by 15 runs, and I finally averaged 100, it is pretty cool
Don Lane'. Who do you play next
Don Bradman'. Well this weekend we play the Martians from Mars
Don Lane'. Well here is Graham Kennedy with his after life song
Well I said I wouldn't make it here
Because of the weird joked I told
And I thought the devil will own my soul
But I was stood up straight and tall
Felthad a weird beer up here, they call it AAAA
And I have always wondered since that say
What does the A mean
Then it hit me, oh silly me
The A meant Afterlife
And we are with Ricky May and Tony Grieg
And Don Bradman and Joh Bjieke peterson
Yes, this afterlife is so much fun with a AAAA in my hand,
Ok Don Lane let's parry in the afterlife
Don Lane'. Ok thanks Graham, now here is Bon Scott with his after life song
The clouds are shaking
And the moon is rocking with the men who are put in there
To scare bad guys away from doing evil on earth
And yes, AC/DC are still going strong on Earth
And I am doing well up here , because it is so easy, man
To be fit and healthy up here, I said you
Shook the after life, all night long
Oh yeah baby, you
Shook the afterlife, all night long
Don Lane'. See you next time, bye
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
Roses are Red, Blood is too.
You're my best friend, but I hate you.
Best means nothing.
Friend means less.
Yet without you,
Truth?
I'm a mess.
Said what I said *** I give a ****
which is more than you get from the crowd you hang with.
Ricky and Dustin and tall hot blonde kid,
Misha, and Matt..
**** all of them!
Better yet, don't!
They don't deserve you.
I know you don't believe it,
but its true.
You're incredible, as I've said before.
Start believe that.
Stop being a *****
Who is this girl?
You could be so much more!
You want to be wanted?
That's what you want for yourself?
What about success, dreams,
and maybe good health.
If I could give everything I have,
I would.
If that meant you were happy
and would smile like you should.
I would die for you.
Why don't you understand that?!
You're the best friend that I've ever had!
Delete my number.
Do you think I meant that?
I felt like such **** that's the response that I had!
And you can forget me and go get a tatt?
While I'm in tears over a fight that we had!
You get drunk and say you hate your life.
Yet continue to do it every night.
and I'm willing to drive there to be there for you
because that's what a ******* best friend would do!
And no matter what, I'll always be here for you.
And if you walk away,
I'll be here, too.
Violets are blue,
and that's how I'm feeling.
If you're at this point,
I guess thanks for reading.
This is my cry,
my reach out to you.
Cuz the way I love you girl,
a text wouldn't do.
Best means nothing,
friend means less.
But sisters are until the ******* end.
I don't care if you hate me or if I hate you.
I don't care if sometimes we have a fight or two.
The fact is, there's nothing that I can do
to even begin to explain to you
how much I want to make amends
try to improve and just stay friends.
You don't have to acknowledge me.
Delete me from your life,
all over some stupid ****** strife.
But I couldn't stay awake for one more night
thinking about it,
pretending everything was alright.
Let me know one way or the other.
Let's not give up on one another.
With everything that we've been through,
I don't want to stop being a we with you.
You're my best friend,
my sister,
my wife.
You're my tree,
my twin,
my kiss at midnight.
You're such an immense part of my life.
Eliminate you at this point?
Yeah right!
So roses are red, and blood is too.
We're at war,
yet I'm on the frontline for you.
Fighting for everything we've been through
and I'm not giving up.
That's what best friends do.
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 4:04 AM UTC
For Ricky*
Ricky Williams, Miami Running Back (2002-2003, 2005)
When the news broke and the camera pointed at a torn tent
on the outskirts of Miami where you sat knees-up-to-chest
professing enlightenment, the football world sacked itself
wondering how good your *** really was. Must have been
growing straight from Buddha’s back yard because to give
up 16 million like that, to go from bachelor pad demigod
to hippy hero of the pimply *** smokers, requires some
kind of unfathomable spirituality. I wonder if the Sadhu
could even find a desk big enough for your frame. All 230 pounds
lurching forward with brittle bones towards some kind
of endzone sanctity not represented by a smiling porpoise
but a transcendent 1st and ten where maybe you’d be happy.
After your final game I imagined you’d do what so many
washed up athletes do: find meaning in the parking lot
of a used car palace or open up a Dairy Queen, maybe
join your kids PTA and tell fourth graders stories that
you now half-believe. I didn’t think it be like this: you smoking
****** under a mauled tarpaulin, brushing fly’s away from
dingy dredlocks, running forward, exasperatedly free,
while a nation wonders why you’ve failed us.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 10:03 AM UTC
A selection of limericks
There was a young lass from the Bronx
Whose ******* make fearful honks
She sounds like a car
When she puts on a bra
And the geese gather round when she bonks
-----------------
Father Alexander McMackett
Ran a ruthless religious racket
When taking collection
He'd offer protection
Salvation could cost you a packet
-----------------
A carrot named Archibald Nation
Had feathers in high numeration
He was labelled as veg
By a grocer called Reg
With a dubious qualification
-----------------
A sculptor named Arnold Duprees
Carved a **** plug from parmesan cheese
He lamented his luck
When it melted and stuck
But he fired it out with a sneeze
-----------------
Knights in the armour of old
Have little to keep out the cold
For they dress as the Scots
In thier tenderest spots
Which encourages rust and then mould
-----------------
Oh ***** you make my knees quiver
You chemical lethargy giver
You tickle my tongue
And pickle my brain
Then you jump up and down on my liver
-----------------
A Fella named Ricky De Gaul
Had seventeen ******* in all
They called him De Chesty
But with only one *****
It should have been Ricky De Ball
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 8:15 AM UTC
Waiting for a drop to trickle down while these ***** on top drown.
The 1% ****** up the whole ratio
got people breaking their backs
like auto-fellatio.
Just to make ends meet.
Like Ricky, he was working towards that American dream but
behind the scenes life was
coming apart at the seams
all because of a fault of his genes.
Uh-oh
Couldnt afford insurance,
and there all his savings go.
Spending eighty thousand dollars on pill that MIGHT save his life.
But wait, what about
dear Ricky's wife?
She was right there by his side
Watch him rot for months
'till the day he died
now she's empty inside.
Forced to swim in high tide
with no buddy.
She can't cope, even with that hollow feeling she can't float
Starts sinking deeper in the drink.
Thrashing in the dark
with lungs burning
there's no room to breath.
Foreclosure notice on the door
Say her and the kids need to leave.
Back to the grind with
no time to grieve.
Just another cog ground out
by the American machine.
So ******* much for the
American dream.
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 10:12 AM UTC
The only one I ever published!! It was for no one just writing! I was 20 y.o.
Midnight Blue
Once a pone a midnight Blue,
there was sitting me and you!
We were all snug an tight.
Beautiful my soul felt so right.
To hold you in my arms tonight.
When you pass that lushase kiss I close my eyes to reminisce.
About the time we made love,
my **** dove.
I have fallin' in love for only you, its vary true.
To see your smile stretch for miles.
My heart hurts to see you cry,
To see those tears run down your eye!
So have no fear for I'll be here for you.
On this midnight Blue!
I'll love you for ever and ever,
never think bad it will make you sad.
So think happy thoughts my Love!
Ricky Lee Bloker Copyright ©2009 Ricky Lee Bloker
Oct 11, 2011
Oct 11, 2011 at 12:58 AM UTC
I'd rather watch the unevenly tall grass sway in an awkwardly flimsy wind
Than watch Jerry Orbach monotonously crawl his manicured tongue to an acting Deputy
"There goes my beauty sleep."
Or watch Ricky and Bubbles scribble words in the air over **** jugs and cement a post-modern cynicism of the world as a great big piece of trailer trash.
I'd rather watch the moisture accumulate on the synthetic brown border between wall and roof in an overcast runny-nose rain
So I guess what I'm saying is
Television took my vision
So I took my vision back.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 5:57 PM UTC
Don Lane and Graham Kennedy entertain in the after life cafe
Don lane '. Oh yeah I am putting on my top hat, and I also wear nothing else
Because I am dead now, and I don't have to worry about being appropriately dressed,
And I also have a lady sitting over at the bar, and she has great looking legs and *****
I want to go over to her, hey lady, how are you going today
Lady'. I am fine, and I am Marilyn Monroe
Don Lane'. I would've loved to interview on my show
Marilyn'. No, I heard the afterlife was a good place for me, I was famous in life, I don't want to be famous here.
Don Lane'. Ok let's go to this table, I know you as well, refresh my memory
And yes Ricky May poured sixteen ice cubes all over Don and
Don said well, obviously these people didn't want to be famous, ok, who are you
Man said'. I am Don Bradman
Don Lane'. You died before me, have you showed the afterlife how you played cricket
Don Bradman'. Yes, and we beat Saturn by 15 runs, and I finally averaged 100, it is pretty cool
Don Lane'. Who do you play next
Don Bradman'. Well this weekend we play the Martians from Mars
Don Lane'. Well here is Graham Kennedy with his after life song
Well I said I wouldn't make it here
Because of the weird joked I told
And I thought the devil will own my soul
But I was stood up straight and tall
Felthad a weird beer up here, they call it AAAA
And I have always wondered since that say
What does the A mean
Then it hit me, oh silly me
The A meant Afterlife
And we are with Ricky May and Tony Grieg
And Don Bradman and Joh Bjieke peterson
Yes, this afterlife is so much fun with a AAAA in my hand,
Ok Don Lane let's parry in the afterlife
Don Lane'. Ok thanks Graham, now here is Bon Scott with his after life song
The clouds are shaking
And the moon is rocking with the men who are put in there
To scare bad guys away from doing evil on earth
And yes, AC/DC are still going strong on Earth
And I am doing well up here , because it is so easy, man
To be fit and healthy up here, I said you
Shook the after life, all night long
Oh yeah baby, you
Shook the afterlife, all night long
Don Lane'. See you next time, bye
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 4:32 AM UTC
We share the bliss; the leaves fall to the floor.
Then we kiss, who knows what for.
It’s now a quarter till four .
We dismiss the screaming *****
who left her litter for us to ignore.
Tonight, She feels lucky,
standing outside of Ricky Jay’s bar.
As she waits beside a stranger’s car
, little does she know,
He’s not into infidelity.
The asphalt absorbs the neon glow.
The ***** adores the white alley cat.
We wonder how she got here
We imagine her story.
She was strong like a bear
, but is now a short term circuit Dory.
We fell for the despair of her misfortune.
The town drunk passed on the close margin.
We left and took the moon out for a walk
I began to talk,
“Will that be us when we’re 33?”
She took a moment to ponder
She faced me and replied
with an upside down smile
, “I’m no fortune teller,
but we would have been far better off
if you didn’t break my heart.”
She said enough.
Thankfully she did… I had to ****
I let you have your head start
I then followed after you
I found you hiding in an abandoned canoe.
With a gaping hole intervening the lost canoe
Nowhere near a reflecting stream.
She wiped off her ****** cream
The puncture wound
, separates us from common ground.
I sat across from her,
We began to reminisce about Denver
On that cold night last November
Taking a break from the big tour
Sharing one bed in a hotel room
We kept our luggage packed
Thinking we may never go back
We held each other warm and tight.
Now under the pale blue moonlight
Back in the canoe, Autumn’s early breeze
Sends shivers through our knees.
Gazing at you,
I wish to give something true.
Holding your hand whispering,
“Finally, near to a full year.
I overcame the fear
, here’s to you kid.
I feel the same way you did
these same exact words;
now transparently clear
that you whispered in my ear.
On a cold night in late November.
TJW2013
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
Ah didny recognise him fae the eulogy.
The meenister'd nivver met the lad, Ah could see.
A hero? Aye, mibbe. Jist a name tae maist ay these fowk.
But ah kent im as a boay,
the daft wee scapegoat, ayewis in boather,
but nae real hairm in im.
He wis the lad wha'd get skelped, the noise
makkin the teacher turn is heid
jist in time tae spot im skelpin back.
Mairched tae the heidie again.
"Yir a bad lot, Barry.
Yir faither wis a bad lot too."
Puir Baz.
Da in the jile,
Ma aff her face on smack,
an him, daft, funny, doomed.
If onybody at hame had cared enough
tae keep the schuil photies,
they'd have shown a wee freckly laddie
wi a too-open grin,
year eftir year,
jersey gettin tattier,
teeth getting gappier,
still grinnin while the rest ay us
were far too cool tae smile for the camera.
Ah liked im.
Didny unnerstaun how the teachers
were sae ***** tae im.
There wis far badder boays in the year.
Ricky ****** Jackson - a nasty, sleekit wee body,
yankin ab'dy's strings.
But his da wis rich
an the teachers fawned ower im.
No Baz, though.
Cannon fodder, richt enough.
Tackin the flack fir the rest ay us.
Exactly the kind ay lad
the ******* Army thrives on.
Ah canny feel the patriotic pride,
canny picture the self-sacrifice,
the heroism.
Ah can juist see im,
daft an grinnin,
daein whit he wis tellt
an gettin killt.
Mind you,
he wis aye headin for the poppies, that yin,
One wey
or anither.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
its not like i traded up
or for that matter down
every cog still turned to the left
each lever, still up and down
it started like an episode
of ricky lake
and ended abruptly
on springer
im in the sound proof booth
judging those who stand encased
aside me
i should leave before this gets ugly
indiscretion led me here
fortitude kept me
embarrassment fed me words
and loss encapsulates all
every stitch
the joy and glee
lost to ants in a wildflower patch
it stings now
verbosity rivaled only by impetus
but quickness
if only counted in months
falls short with words
im sure there's a happy ending
a call in the black of midnight
in a letter carefully opened
through a kiss tentatively given
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
I'm Runnin Jews like Lil Dicky
Run the Jewels, and Ricky
With soso flow of Biggie
Ever since I quit the ciggie
Livin life straight propper
Givin props to Big Poppa
I'm off the spliffs and poppas
Writin riffs for beats that drop ya
Lingerie ladies who have
Curved bodies tight Mercedes
Hot as Hades 420 degrees
Just hot enough to chrisp my cheese
Torchin these trees
Straight from Belieze
Blowin Bolivian keys up they ***
As their friends ends they pass
None of y'all thought this Jew could last
Two days past your last meal
Didn't really know how to feel
Cause I ****** you so raw
Y'all got mistook for veal
That means hyper tender
No allussion to child *** offender
Call me a money stack lender
Back ****** but never a pretender
If I split her in half
God'll have ta mend her
This **** is known to send ya
Into bliss quick
That feeling'll stick
When the tip touch they lower lip
They get oil slick
Just the thought get's 'em hotta than a candle wick
Though you know I don't flow with no trick
Start off slow so we can show each other
Our flame be sure not to smother
Like an over protective mother
Reflect on it while it's lit
Climb inside my mind
See how I visualize thee
Undress and become pantiless
You're sittin on my face
I impress with the pace
I carress your **** with tongue
Spell sinless you'll be a wet well
When you see how well I'm hung (do tell)
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 7:43 AM UTC
There’s a tremor
That ripples through
This pocket of air,
The electric aura
That surrounds my hair,
The sounds are melodic,
Like the cries of scared
Spirits, calling Mladic
To make an appearance
In the lake of fire
He sent them to swim in,
But missing the point,
Missing the part of life
With a purpose,
Wishing to rise back up
To the surface
And start the slide all over again,
Start the decline down to
A black abyss where
Doors exist
Just too keep you in,
Where laws are ********
And the good guy never wins,
And I’m pretty sure
He never did,
I’ve never seen the good guy win,
Cuz if the good guy could Catch a break,
There’d be no lie to trap us in,
But either way there’s no way to escape,
Cuz the good guy never wins
And the good girl always gets *****
So I’ll keep holding my sanity loosely,
And keep taking heed to her song,
That “every secret is juicy,
Whether it’s Ricky cheating on Lucy,
Or the world controlled by
Ancient snakes,
Either way you don’t get to say
How high the stakes of truth be,”
You don’t get paid
For being truthful,
It’s ruthless action
That’s truly
Beautiful,
Or maybe her face is too,
The one I saw peering in
Through a snow-rimmed window,
Buried in a fur-lined hood
With cheeks red with the
Sea of blood
Shifting just under
Paper skin,
The storm spawned
By the walk
Sending waves of colour
And life and vivacity
And ****** perfection
Crashing into
The softest cheeks
To ever brush mine,
The very ones I’ve wished to destroy
As the breath quickened,
The tempo rose,
And the sweat poured
Onto summer sheets
In a bed to small
And weak
To hold the tremendous weight
Of love deferred
And reignited
By a shared passion
For hurting and getting hurt.
The face in the window
Was flushed with heat,
Yet colder than the parents
That sent her out into the night,
Hoping she wouldn’t find something to eat,
And isn’t it funny how she still
found me?
Ready and willing
To be ripped apart
And devoured
For the deflowering
Of a misconceived heart.
I opened the door and let her in
So I could begin being born again.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 11:14 PM UTC
rag tag *** hag grocery bag in drag
maxed credit and bragging about having a stag party
farty party girls in shart coated pantyhose blow wasted kisses
to fisters in trousers bumping mump victims blisters
hitting wristers like the Williams sisters
coyote trickster with a brand new mix tape waits
with his **** taped to his own leg like Ricky Lake
on her fist date
another Cosby **** escape hot-plated shared space
I’m no racist cause my skin is white and pasty
I’m tasty and **** like Britney sans the braces insatiable
and my testicles are reckless needing spectacles
done wrecked the hull Captain Pickard
and a test-tube girl –
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 5:30 PM UTC
Place your bets, you’re just in time
for the game, the fix is in.
What a thrill. Is it a crime to cash in?
The winners do, and that could be you.
You’ll be a witness, as wise guys smoothly step in
- it’s basic greed - and never a sin, as long as they win.
Mr slick ricky, you’ve got to be bold to win gold -
winners never just fold - betting never gets old.
The winners will add your few spare bucks to their *** -
let’s admit, all that you’ve got - isn’t a lot - it won’t fuel a yacht.
Place your bets, you’re in the front row all the time,
don’t be lame, be part of the game, the greasy bigtime.
Jan 26, 2023
Jan 26, 2023 at 12:09 PM UTC
Yesterday was my father’s 60th birthday so I called him.
How many times have I heard tears of joy at the end of a receiver?
I don’t know how to answer these things,
I do not have a response to my own age sadness
nor my father’s.
I told him I had class and hung up.
Sometimes, I wonder why god does not give me a phone call.
It seems everyone has been hearing from him lately
and I wonder if it is because I do not brush my teeth
in the morning or if it is because I spit on Ricky’s pants
in third grade. He called me foxy
I just wanted to be human.
Do you think people are ghosts until they speak their mind?
Look at Anne Frank and Michael Jackson-
They are the closest things to humans I can find
when I look in gutters and radio signals
(I don’t find much there)
I bet you’re the type of person
who looks in between couch cushions and finds
job interviews and an always loving mother
who will never forget to pack you a lunch
and will always remember the exact time
of your birthday or your soccer schedule
I bet you and god talk on a regular basis
You are the type that I wish the best of luck to
out of respect but never necessity
and you tell me my eyelids are too heavy
and I should stop ironing out my poetry
I want to write you a letter
and dot all of the eyes with hearts
but I don’t mean to be ****** at all, I’m sorry
I just miss feeling as good
as my first kiss which wasn’t very good
but I am running out of firsts
and last is my least
favorite word in the dictionary
Tonight I will try calling god,
but my roommate will pick up the phone
and instead I will crawl into an envelope
and wait, wait--
I hope this is not something that will disappoint you
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 2:14 AM UTC
we're tip tip tipping
tap tap tapping out a rhythm for our breath
sweet ladles laden lady leaden candles
sticks candlesticks
lime sweet ricky baby
rolling rolling heavy cajoling
you want to know you want to know
greens orange peach and parkas
time with only embers
smelling sweet of sand glass green
lightning what a pretty king
Apr 19, 2011
Apr 19, 2011 at 1:30 PM UTC