"roy" poems
Grandpa sits in his favorite chair,
Spots his granddaughter and starts to stare,
Whips out his **** and starts to stroke,
He knows it’s his granddaughter he wants to poke,
Calls her over and says, “Pretty please.”
Come on granddaughter get on your knees,
She does as she’s told and ***** him with zest,
Because she knows ****** is best.
Uncle Roy decides to give it a whirl,
He likes to dress his nephew up as a girl,
Likes to see him in silk and lace,
Lipstick and makeup on his face,
Imagining him with heels on his feet,
As he sits there and starts to stroke his meat,
He’d love to put him to the test,
Because he knows ****** is best.
Mother decides to get in on the act,
Her and her son have a special pact,
While her husbands at work she gets in his bed,
Pulls down his pants and starts giving him head,
Son likes his mom dressed up in her lace,
As he shoots his load all over her face,
He knows his mom is better than the rest,
Because he knows ****** is best.
Sister and brother are a special pair,
It’s more than a last name these two share,
Brother Bill can’t believe his luck,
Having a sister that likes to ****
Says, “Hey Sis, come on over here.”
As he bends her over and takes her rear,
Going at it like animals it becomes a real fuckfest,
Because they both know ****** is best.
Father can’t believe his daughter is so kind,
She’s on her knees as he takes her behind,
She moans and screams and starts to cry,
Says, “Hey Daddy, you’re my kind of guy.”
Daddy tells her ****** is the better way,
It’s a game the whole family can play,
Daddy treats his daughter like an honored guest,
Because they both know ****** is best.
11-27-09b.
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 1:20 AM UTC
You are light
I am light
reflected through the crystal prism of
time
and
space
Each of us shines with a million colors
Fractals that glimmer
in certain light
at certain angles
What really matters
is what you see
my blue isn't your blue
or red or yellow
Those colors are determined
by our place in
time
and
space
There is an energy
consider it magic
that flows and weaves
in and out
of every person
or place or thing
And like a spell cast
that energy becomes our luster
When the sun starts to set
and its luminescence shines though
that cut and shaped glass
window in the front door
we all have
It spills our hue
for all to see
You become a rainbow
I become a rainbow
our pigment splashed on
life itself becomes our personality
And much like we all have
our favorite colors
that's what draws us
to one another
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 12:42 AM UTC
Memaw & Pepaw ..Mason Dixon Saturday night,
Just sippin' muscadine wine by the Tennessee moonlight
Rockin' chairs...Zenith Black and White
Roy, Buck, Minnie Pearl a Hee Haw delight.
Crickets a chirpin' and a Frogs a croakin'
Toe tapin' rhythm's got em all in motion.
Corn fields swaying like a metronome
Watching those two dance to cotton eye Joe!
Sunday mornings best at the Church of Christ,
Me, I'm Thinkin' bout Memaws country gravy, my fav-o-rite!
Fried Chicken, taters, eggs sunny side right,
These are the memories I like to recite.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 12:19 PM UTC
i never used to understand why people
hid their pop preferences like
they might hide a **** room...
or like: the toilet paper ran out,
so i jumped into the shower story;
what's with pop music in older people
and getting the embarrassment sticker
that says: HI, MY NAME IS JEFF
AND I LIKE BRIE POP FROM SCANDINAVIA:
nostalgic culmination? death growl
dark metal: the frustration apparent throughout:
frustrated amateur singers with their
strained veiny necks... see that aorta?
opera singers? are they even opening
their mouths, or is this opera meets Roy Orbison?
and by god, that's the case, people are
ashamed to actually acknowledge their
pop preferences... no wonder Patrick
Bateman is fuelled by it...
it's very much like that... pop's the foundation
in you actually liking music...
shame i love music more than women:
keeps my sanity... 2 months apart
and you can't hear a vacuum cleaner,
maybe once a week... maybe...
then the radio starts playing some vintage Roxette...
Abba who? that's for those aged
40 and above... Roxette is my generation's equivalent.
Roxette's masterpiece? Joyride:
the entire album, yes, you'll listen to
this album like some prog rock feast:
Joyride ( : + italics
is the same as bold:
double emphasis )
***** you will! Roxette's Joyride is the
epitome of pop!
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the ****** disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.
- Arundhati Roy
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
“It’s a Girl.” They said,
Destined to go to her ‘own’ home one day,
As if she is born into a strangers home.
Marriage has its own time,
Why make her birth seem like a crime?
Do give her the unconditional love but don’t consider her a bad luck.
“Who will bring forward the family name? She will bring only a shame”, they said
Destined to go to her ‘own’ home one day,
As if she is born into a strangers home.
If that were the case,
Ashamed are parents who gave birth to,
Kalpana Chawla, Asha Roy, Arundhati Battacharya and many more.
Worried about the family name?
Bring her out of the shallow box,
Filled with your narrow thoughts,
Help her reach her full potential,
Then watch the family name gain credentials.
“Do what he tells you to.” They said,
That is your house,
He is your everything.
From her, kings are born,
From her, woman is born,
Without her, there would be nobody at all,
So why then do we make her a slave?
Likes, shares, tweets and re-tweets can only do so much…
Empower your thoughts and not just the woman,
Teach your son to respect the girls,
Allow your daughters to reach their passion,
Then watch the empowerment take action.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 1:15 PM UTC
This Ain't a ******* Country Song
You know I love my Rock and Roll
I wouldn't write a Country Song
'Cause that's not how I roll
This song it ain't bout country things
Like pickup trucks and cars
You'll never find me writing
About getting drunk in bars
There's no mention here of Taylor Swift
or The Charlie Daniels Band
I wouldn't write of how the banks
are taking our farmland
This Ain't a ******* Country Song
You know I love my Rock and Roll
I wouldn't write a Country Song
'Cause that's not how I roll
I don't know **** 'bout Redneck stuff
like hunting dogs and guns
I wouldn't write of Daisy Dukes
showing off some hot babes buns
I won't write 'bout the Opry
I don't know all that stuff
Of Minnie Pearl and Grandpa Jones
And Mr. Roy Acuff
This Ain't a ******* Country Song
You know I love my Rock and Roll
I wouldn't write a Country Song
'Cause that's not how I roll
There's nothing here 'bout Bourbon
or of Racing through the fields
I don't know much about farming
or crop futures or of yields
I listen to The Rolling Stones
Trace Adkins I don't like
Lady A can go away
Kid Rock can ride his bike
You won't hear much about Zac Browns Band
or of food thats Chicken Fried
I might go to a hoedown
If I'd just up and died
My music, it fulfills me
It makes me who I am
But I'll stay away from country
songs, Cause I don't give a ****
No Oak Ridge Boys or Hee Haw Here
Hank Williams I won't buy
I'll never buy a Dixie Beer
It's a drink I'll never try
I won't sing about Kentucky
or of a Texas Yellow Rose
you know this aint no country song
Good god I hope it shows
There's no mohter, dogs or applie pie
no fishin' in the dark
No Everything is Beautiful
No songs by Terry Clark
I'm really open minded
My friends they are the same
We won't buy country music
To us it's just so lame
This Ain't a ******* Country Song
You know I love my Rock and Roll
I wouldn't write a Country Song
'Cause that's not how I roll
I won't mention stuff you'll find
in songs by Nashville bands
There's nothing here about
watching football in the stands
I'll never write a country song
Cause country just ain't fun
Oh crap I just read this thing
And I think I just wrote one
This Ain't a ******* Country Song
You know I love my Rock and Roll
I wouldn't write a Country Song
'Cause that's not how I roll
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 10:33 AM UTC
.*if, and however many mistakes i made in typo... attempting to compete with Spawn, using the black panther... ****** please... it's like that "healthy" competition of butter, using margarine... Black Panther isn't Spawn... Spawn is... Spawn... yeah... thanks for ruining my 12" wish fetish... i was so dying... to... i was never going to **** an English girl to begin with... thank god.*
you're seriously going
to "correct" me
using black panther....
seriously?
spawn was the ********
to what....
to whatever you're
doing these days....
i don't want to be
the blank panther...
**** being black panther...
************
i want to be *spawn"..
******* quasi-nigger...
john coltrane...
you a mariah carey
back-up singer or some
otherwise alien whacky
alien-backlog?
compared to spawn...
the black panther
looks like a ******* ******
wing guy...
for what's deemed
12"...
black...
mire like bleak Parthenon...
some columns,
no spirals...
waste of time...
black Panther, what?
so Spawn...
was just a waste of time?
Spawn was the gran-daddy
where the Batman was the daddy
given the Joker
was the gran-gran-daddy...
you get me?
Miles Davis too much for you?
the blank panther is such
a ***** move...
it's like... come Kosovo...
when expecting Sarajevo...
****** this **** will not
stick...
high flying ****
if you think this will become
a ******* pancake...
no, ******
take your blank panther back
to Yakanda, or whatever...
your Spawn was cooler than
Lego Batman...
**** your white *****
and leave me to my existentialism
of... making a "heroic" exit..
akin to Elvis...
but more or less minding
Roy Orbison in a sing along.
p.s.
lego batman movie quote:
black panther *****
spawn go go go! spammy!
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 12:02 AM UTC
The Man in Black
The Silver Fox
Brad Paisley shows
That Country Rocks
Western's gone
But Country's not
Remember those
Who time's forgot
From Red Georgia Clay
To the Tennessee Hills
From Kentucky Blue Grass
I still get the chills
When the music goes through me
It's a feeling so strong
That can only be born
From an old country song
Loretta Lynn
Dottie West
Patsy Cline
They were the best
Old time country
Tennessee tunes
Mountain Bluegrass
My favorite tunes
From Red Georgia Clay
To the Tennessee Hills
From Kentucky Blue Grass
I still get the chills
When the music goes through me
It's a feeling so strong
That can only be born
From an old country song
The singers change
The tunes do not
They still sing the music
That others forgot
Williams and Jones
Acuff and Dickens
Old Buck and Roy
Still Pickin' and grinnin
From Red Georgia Clay
To the Tennessee Hills
From Kentucky Blue Grass
I still get the chills
When the music goes through me
It's a feeling so strong
That can only be born
From an old country song
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 11:19 AM UTC
What did I pause about the other day- was it at the kitchen table? I think so- I was sitting down next to my fluorite crystal- something occurred to me- it was a pleasant thought, I remember, something a bit marvelous, I winked at my pretty little stone and she winked back. Oh! I think it was sparked from Arundhati Roy’s novel God of Small Things. Or no, I think it was the smell of spring wafting through the window that transported me to sweet grass-stained jeans at six. (How Consciousness can subvert Time! Making past present, making present eternal and infinite- undermining order imposed and idealized- tirelessly trying to give itself, but faltering before the closed fist of human conquest). Or perhaps it was the language and sensation simultaneous that lifted from within me this deep affection- for what, I do not know. For everything and nothing, I suppose. For all that is and all that be—and all that must cease to be.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
I am the young girl running around the house,
looking for the pony,
on Christmas morning,
while the ship is slowly sinking,
in a manure flavored sea.
I am the armless tennis player that
is convinced he will defeat Roger
in less than an hour,
using just one ball, over and over again.
I am Roy Wright at the beginning of the trial,
with a big stupid smile in my pocket,
and a tinny black book in my soul.
I am the faithful survivor of unfaithfulness
and I will be the one that lands on his feet,
in Scottsboro heaven.
I am Bartolomeo V, the one with no vendetta,
having a croissant,
waiting for Nicola to shave, before we take off in one of
Rothko's paintings. May the 5th be
with the ones who actually did it.. and, you know what?
I honestly think Cronaca Sovversiva is a great title,
even though I haven't read the ******
thing and I have no sympathy,
whatsoever, for any anarchist.
Hell! It's hard for me getting my **** together in complete order. I don't want to think what would become of me
in complete anarchy.
I am the one that wakes up every day
with a stupid smile under his nose,
not remembering the scent of yesterday's failure.
The one that starts dreaming as soon as he gets up,
ignoring the fact that he might be an ignorant
*****
with no desire to go to outer space,
but with huge hopes up his sleeve for
M. Damon and his agricultural knowledge.
I am in favor of all fancy schmancy Earth saving knowledge,
and I am aware that all that space debris in my head
will do some serious damage one day.
If they ever figure out how to get it all in.
I am the tic, that will come after the tac-toe, this time, and not the other way around!
the encore of every good concert,
the yin for the panda ****
the slim leg for the flamingo,
the gambler,
the rambler,
the day rider.
I am the Syrian boy that just learned to swim and
all of this infinite blue soup
is nothing more than a Saturday stroll.
I will get in the back of that truck and I will breathe
the purest air that someone could ever breathe,
I will sleep the sleep of reason and monsters will not be produced.
You have my word!
I am the skin before the needle shoots up
all its ink.
I will be perky. I will be green.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 5:58 AM UTC
Red is the color of apples so delicious
Orange is the color of oranges and fishes
Yellow is the color of the sun in the sky
But don't look at it now, it'll burn the retina of your eye!
Green is the color of the grass and trees
Blue is the color of blueberries
Indigo is just a name for really dark blue
And Violet rhymes with nothing
But neither DO YOU!
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 8:18 PM UTC
You're not a Golden Boy,
And you never were meant to be.
You are a force of desperation,
Seeking salvation.
You live to be free.
That is the reason why
You may forever be bound
To the saviors of the Underground.
You were a bit of a child.
The world was having its way with you.
You tried to make a declaration,
A revelation,
Some celebration.
You tried some chemical shock.
As a dried leaf floats downstream,
It is steryl as an early angel.
You're just a Rolling Roy,
The drifting dust on a beam of sunlight.
You suffer from separation,
By invitation,
And so many things to see.
It is no wonder why
Your golden boy will not be found,
Except by those of the Underground.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 3:19 AM 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
blue eyed boy of pure flesh and grown bones
you truly inspire
sadly you desire to burn
beneath the suns clench
you have written poetry for girl's
scattered all over this world
all i ask of you is a poem for me
a note to let me know it's true
they say it comes easy to you
blue eyed boy of thirty two
you look far younger than your years
admired by your wisest peers
you say that your heart beats to the rhythm of mine
for that poem i still pine
write it with your blood
i promise you i will drink it up line after line
roy mccarthy
for that poem i still pine
Mar 26, 2011
Mar 26, 2011 at 7:32 PM UTC
I reference this not as the flower just of nature but in this case for the fact it is our anniversary this is an
Oleander of my heart yes the heart is a house all of my feelings and emotions are housed there the
Flower I choose to write about is my sister my wife’s sister Liz it’s kind of appropriate since she was the
Only one in our wedding party as we were married before a judge I guess she was a witness a witness to
The crime as it were to describe her I can use Roy Orbison’s song pretty woman a blonde cutie with
Southern roots in Tennessee now she is a near Chicago northerner take southern nights and northern
Bright lights infuse them with grace and charm you have begun to see the Oleander that lies beyond my
Door yard along my walk and borders the yard of my heart the glistening in the spring rain if you get real
Still you can hear tiny sounds of laughter among the joy filled faces the scented bloom fills my living
Room where ever I am eye catching satisfying delightful spring and summer what a wonder the spilling
Forth of fruitful life she matches the rose in pose an attitude of significance tinged with just enough
Brashness to hold your attention until you become beholden to the inner life that shows character
Wisdom authority a driven wind that lays down in the most beautiful fashion only to arise and make the
Trees sing the glass to shake in the most enjoyable way all in unison they dance the eye stormed by this
Profusion of elegance and color truly a best friend to the wayward wind carried near and far secrets rest
Within the heart that the Oleander knows and claims in darkness unflappable a sweet ghostliness an
Arbor found sweetly remembered but never forgotten unspoiled withstanding the day’s heat showing
Resilience a buoyancy of sprit uncommon the thrill that runs with deep rootedness when the sharp wind
Does blow she through power of will brings calm a flourish of maturity so lovely that is outstanding in all
these gifts she provides the greatest is she calls me friend thanks sis
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC
*one reason why you're not read with a volume you
expected, jedi-know-how, you'll be easily plagiarised.*
**when i first came to england i fell in love
with manchester united...
the 4 - 4 - 2 line-up**
peter schmeichel (dane goalkeeper),
then ooh aah cantona (eric cantona baseball cap),
original wembley white towers...
(white towers, charity shield
newcastle united)
so meh for the arch....
irwin... steve bruce... lee sharpe...
gary pallister... (7) eric cantona.... george best....
mcclair, ryan giggs,
cotton tomilisom, then roy keane...
then davies cole ****
the neville brothers...
scholes and david beckham...
**** stuck to azkazam fudge, it's still perfectly refrigerated
in kazakhstan:
steve mcmanaman will tell you;
it's a random barricade question worth a shot
in the rubric of a sudden challenge.
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 7:41 PM UTC
Mary, plain name. Mary, mother of God
Mary, Queen of the Strip Mall
Mary, daughter of a King and a *****
Divinity in her blood, conqueror of lands,
Monarch of her body, kingdom of junkies.
Nails inlaid with pearls, mink lashes and onyx eyes
Indigo polyester wraps her 36, 30, 41,
saltwater taffy legs, **** and ***
Mary wasn’t a tall boy, Mary is a funnel cloud queen
Obsidian brazilian in velcro, soda can curls.
Mary has no titles, Mary is a ******* Mary is an exile.
Queen of cream stucco and neon and parking lots.
Mary has disciples, all named Judas.
She has Roy Cohn, the judge’s son, and Louis XIV on their knees in prayer.
She has **** Cheney, Little Richard, and Freud their knees in the bathroom behind the Tesco.
Mary doesn’t confess, doesn’t beg, doesn’t buy.
Mary the conqueror, Alexander reincarnate, she survives.
Body bathed in ultraviolet, cocoa butter, vaseline, and newport menthols.
Mary talks to God in the mirrors at the salvation army.
Mary is scared of dying, she knows she is no ones martyr.
Mary never kneels, left the Bible in the motel nightstand.
A graceful end, a unceremonious departure.
Trade rose petals for needles and styrofoam slurpee cups.
Mary’s mistresses, lovers, and wives, gave her a few lead rounds,
Left her in the strip mall mausoleum.
Mary, queen of the carnal, saint of suburban perversions.
Mary never asked God for forgiveness or a fix.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 3:47 PM UTC
matt’s hats tom’s tools & tobacco lou’s liquors fred’s beds dale's doors frank’s planks bill’s drills jane’s drains & panes chuck’s check cashing cheryl’s barrels hank’s tanks tina’s trucks & tractors walt’s asphalt sean’s pawn rick’s rifles mom’s guns terry’s tires charlie’s harleys rhonda’s hondas jim’s rims art’s parts gus’s gas mike’s bikes frank’s feed gwen’s pens ann’s cans nancy’s nursery joes‘s clothes jess’s dresses bert’s skirts steve’s sleeves paul’s shawls michelle’s shells & bells al’s pails & snails sam’s hams & jams patty’s pancakes phil’s chili don’s donuts betty’s spaghetti bob’s burgers alycia’s quiches jean’s beans jerry’s berries anna’s bananas andy’s candies cathy’s taffies tony’s ponies roy’s toys ron’s batons kim’s whims marty’s parties jill’s pills rick’s tricks alice’s palace debbie’s disposal dave’s graves
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 5:53 AM UTC
"There were good people on both sides."
Donald Trump's father was a card-carrying Klansman
& Trump learned everything he knows about business
from Roy Cohen, a notoriously evil self-hating homosexual,
gangster, politician, mouthpiece for the Mafia
& aide-de-camp to the same Joseph McCarthy
who engineered the Red Scare & subsequent blacklisting
of Hollywood's best & most creative talent;
this is Donald Trump's history & education & legacy -
why is a man POTUS who lied, cheated & paid hush money;
[the only way he knows how to do business];
he loves dictators, who laugh behind his back,
& even to his stupid, clueless face;
Trump's 'base' composed of desperate, angry morons
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC
Betty Coutu drives a mean Rambler
takes us public school, heathens
to catechism on Saturday morn
Smokes a cigarette like a prima-ballerina
Shifts three on the wheel
drives that clutch to the floor
with her thick leg
Makes the engine roar
a little
“to warm it up”
Turns with the grace of swan
Pavlova or belladonna
Something of beauty
just to watch her
three-finger the wheel through a turn around
all while taking a drag
exhales to ceiling
to music on the radio
Elvis? Roy O, Patsy Cline
circa 1959
Betty's hair is short, uncombed
but she's not without lipstick
lights her smoke with amazing matchbook skills
Calm
like a woman who does it often
takes on wear
with I'm in love, and I don't give a care
She shifts and turns
cigarette balanced like gossip on lips
or between
those first two fingertips
Smoke swirling
amid kids squabbling and whining
in the back seat
No belts back then
till Dad got home
to keep them in line
But, I bet on Betty every time
to get us there
I want to drive like her, so badly!
I sit beside her-- ossified
watching
her smoke and handle
like a total expert
I am distracted
and will surely fumble
my catechism answers
for the nuns
cataclysmically
She drops us off by an icy foot slide
I swear to God to stop back later when we're done
...with prayer and penance
recitation... and resolvings
to sin no more
Once we're out the door--
back to that forbidden foot-slide
Always had a plan for fun
So did Betty's son
the hemophiliac
Bless myself like an Olympian
and pray for Johnny
before he joins me for a run
hemophilia:
a medical condition in which the ability of the blood to clot is severely reduced, causing the sufferer to bleed severely from even a slight injury. The condition is typically caused by a hereditary lack of a coagulation factor, most often factor VIII.
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 7:31 PM UTC
Let’s stand up to those bullies who think
Gay bashing is fun.
If it happened to one of your family members
Would you stand up and fight? Or would you run?
If you found out it was your mother
Who liked the same gender.
Would you say something to offend her.
A 13 year old in Texas shot himself for being gay
Another 13 years old also hung himself.
And now a freshman from
Rutgers college jumped off the George Washington bridge
Because two people thought it was funny, so they
Taped him that day.
Gays have been around since the beginning of time
Open your eyes, you’re not blind.
They live, they work, they play, the same as you
And their lives they’ll give for their country too.
They don’t tell you who you can and can not love
These all come from up above.
If GOD had made us exactly alike
Then we would really argue and fight.
You would be making love to yourself
Because there would not be anything else.
How many more lives must be taken
Before you are really awakened.
Bullying doesn’t only apply to gay bashing.
People who talk down to you because
You may not be as smart, or as good looking
Or as slim as them.
Don’t you feel like they offend?
We are all at the bottom of that totem pole
Even the ones who think they’re in control.
Is Roy smarter than me? does Sheila
Have a better body than me?
Everyone has their doubts, but that’s
What life is all about.
So before you start to put anyone else down
Turn and look around
They may be talking about you
The same way that you want to do.
(c) LOUIS RAMS
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
he big concert in the sky forces meteor over USA
HI EVERYONE I AM SAM KINISON
and i sing wild thing, oh yeah dude let’s party
you make my heart sing, who let’s party dude
if you feel cool enough, you will be made to ****** dry
wild thing, as we are flying in the sky, pretty cool, that’s great, ya ****** see
and sam kinison screams real loud, and it makes your heart
crawl right out of your body, and make ya wanna bleed
wild thing, hey wild thing, i think you will move me, who oh oh oh oh
and then came the great elvis presley singing
you are nothing but a hound dog, your farting all time
you are nothing but a hound dog, farting all the time
you will never catch me a rabbit, cause your no mate of mine
you said it was high class, that is just a lie
you said it was high class, well, that is just a lie
and you’ll goodie every day and night and watch this great meteor with us in it really fly
and now here is robert palmer, how can it be permissible
to compromise my principals, that kind of love is missable, she’s anything but typical
it’s a craze, or a cause, it’s a powerful force, there is nothing wrong surrounding because
does our meteor we are sending to the USA look good to you, because we find it, SIMPLY IRRESISTABLE
And john denver, take me home, country roads, to the place, where we belong
west virginia mountain mama, take me home, country road
there is no heaven, can you understand that, we are up here flying over the USA
And we want you to understand this, that we want you to take me home
country road take me home, to the place i belong, we are travelling over your country obama
saying we have been taken home, by country roads
and now, george harrison has a song, i got my mind set on you
i got my set on you, roy orbison sang, ANYTHING YOU WANT YOU GOT IT
anything you need you got it, anything you need you got it, baby
wild thing, oh yeah oh yeah
we are flying in the meteor yeah, who who who who
you make everything so wonderfully groovy
you big despicable wild thing
and this meteor did a mercy dash to bring elvis presley sam kinison robert palmer john denver
george harrison and roy orbison over this nation to explode with total madness, oh yeah, dudes
KABOOM, IS WHAT IT SOUNDED LIKE IN SPACE OVER USA, BUT IT WAS THIS GREAT CONCERT, WAS REALLY GOING ON
TRUST ME, I AM A COSMIC SLEEPER, IT WAS TUESDAY NIGHT, WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON IN CANBERRA, NEARLY POETRY SLAM
I WAS A BIT QUIETER AT THE POETRY SLAM, BUT I SENT MY LITTLE COOL KID THERE, AND SENT MY OLD MAN TO THE POETRY SLAM
I STILL BLEW THE CROWD AWAY WITH MY AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE POEM, I AM COOL, MAN
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 3:21 AM UTC