"rufus" poems
Well I'm glad you asked.
I'm your next monumental task.
Call me Rufus because I'm about to make your empire crumble.
From my earthquaking hook, it will make the crowds rumble.
Float like a butterfly, hit like Tyson.
I got the strength of the All American Bison.
That left they say is “the kiss of death” please,
you haven't seen a real American breed.
A combo of the world's greatest.
My team is the smartest and latest.
What could you have to possibly show?
I’ll hit you with the jab high and low.
You’re skills of movement and power are ****
**** I can’t wait to make you cry and quit
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 9:41 PM UTC
pets are hours of fun, feathered finned and furry ones
pets are hours of fun, feathered finned and furry ones
their antics do amuse, owners love them to bits
their antics do amuse, owners love them to bits
owners love them to bits, feathered finned and furry ones
their antics do amuse, pets are hours of fun
**** playing with a skein of wool, Rufus chasing his tail
**** playing with a skein of wool, Rufus chasing his tail
their capers never fail to get a laugh, what a show he puts on
their capers never fail to get a laugh, what a show he puts on
what a show he puts on, Rufus chasing his tail
**** playing with a skein of wool, their capers never fail to get a laugh
behind the air filter goldfish dart, such a jovial spectacle
behind the air filter goldfish dart, such a jovial spectacle
budgerigar hop scotching on her perch, they're natural born entertainers
budgerigar hop scotching on her perch, they're natural born entertainers
budgerigar hop scotching on her perch, behind the air filter goldfish dart
such a jovial spectacle, they're natural born entertainers
they're natural born entertainers, feathered finned and furry ones
their antics do amuse, pets are hours of fun
budgerigar hop scotching on her perch, **** playing with a skein of wool
behind the air filter goldfish dart, Rufus chasing his tail
such a jovial spectacle, what a show they put on
their antics never fail to get a laugh, owners love them to bits
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
Things Fall Apart
(Chinua Achebe knew that)
We are what we will be;
What we eat.
Oh, what a world!
What will Rufus think when we are all
Cheeseburgers?
Running the world
(my favorite pastime)
Everyone loves a cheeseburger
But what about the raw ones?
There are too many out there
NO FEAR!
THE GRILLMASTER IS HERE!
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,
I will silence the vegetarians,
And raise the price of organic goods!
That will show them!
And read my lips:
NO NEW TAXES!”
Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 9:16 PM UTC
saying **** off* seems so much more
easier when you're petting cats....
they just say it for you...
there he is, Quarus,
the operatic singer nearing sunset,
200 variations of a mulling of meow,
i end up calling him Orbison Rufus,
the ginger Roy of Peckham -
he basically meows lazily like Roy
singing... as said / i.d. (id est): the umbras
or umbrellas - counting the shadows'
version of Apache's yawn: ah-woo ah-woo
ah-woo nagging the reflex...
gave them the yawn and gave them 1950s
America... Billy the Kid talking to the king of
Specs... hank marvin.... cheese grater
with those teeth... dozen cows buckling with
the herding in while the dog carved a feel
for religion in the translation of the Vatican
from coliseum into football requirements...
the movies were great in the 1950s, just after
the technicolour... petting cats was never such a thrill...
the operatic meow, onomatopoeia from echo
in a cave to knock-on-wood...
200 variations of the knock
and 12 whiskey shots downed
while playing poker... 12 cowboys
1 Milwaukee and 30 Turks... classic Tarantino...
i said the Apache yawn... i never said giving
out smoke signals...
Quarus my ginger is demanded as having laughed...
he's Roy Orbison with the meow,
pretty much lazy...
looks like a murmur when he tries singing,
pretty woman, trolling down the street,
Gucci, Chanel, and everything in the scrapheap of lobotomy,
as is Paris necessarily mentioned: chiselled
white collars... Roy knew before Elvis...
the trick came with sunglasses,
and the gluttonous slur of the half-opened mouthing
for subsequent mouthing it off...
no amount of cheese in French could ever
charter the success of the cheeses added to cheeseburgers
with the milkshakes, which were plainly Dutch
laughing cows named Novices....
quick-melts and some said:
dreadlocks of string-yellow Gouda pulled
for a hippies' worth of Chinese chugging down
a pint or two, for worth of gag and the slim mascot;
the Chinese never taught Cannes arithmetic
of the thumb through to pinky...
i don't know how they taught counting
with their complex ideograms, they never taught
arithmetic give their encoding...
they taught pure math.. they never taught the simplest
of assurances... meaning so few of them became bankers.
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
Roofus *****
Is the best
With the slingshot
Shootin' quarters
Out of the air
Without a care
He says,
"See that Japanese beetle
Sittin' on the leaf?"
He shot it right off the top
Good grief!
What is his his secret?
Well practice makes perfect
And he never did
Own a t.v.
R.I.P. Rufus
(1919-1994)
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC
Under the big old tree
I sit there quietly
Reading new book I found
Diving into world I thought I belong
Once, I was Hannah Baker
Sharing my secret story
This is my truth about you
What is your truth about me?
I envy Ponnyboy
He had lots of friends
And one true friend
A reason to stay gold in the end
And I know the feeling of Samantha McAllister
Looking for a place where you belong
A place where your voices are heard
I found my Poet's Corner
Then I dreamed just liked Lara Jean
That someday, I will find true love
Someone will help me conquer my fear
Someone who will give me life
But I guess I am Finch
Love will never save me
I keep on breathing
But I know will be drown
But just like Rufus and Mateo
Tho I know how I'm going to end
I don't want to meet it
I'm still afraid to die
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 5:51 AM UTC
“Lool, maybe I could come whisk you away”
He quipped
Be serious! I’d love to
A date, on a date with you,
Nothing too serious, of course.
Maybe lunch, dinner and discourse.
I’d love to watch you laugh over a meal!
....delete
Well, if you’re serious we could fix
Something. I think I like you and it’d be nice
To meet. Let’s do something, Maybe ice cream?
Rufus and bees? Or a movie?
...delete
“Lool, big head”
... Enter.
“Hehe” – he goes.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 5:41 AM UTC
Ice cakes stick like
Bricks on Brownstones
And Brooklyn sidewalks,
Strangling Michellins
And mice in polar death grips;
Suspending alternate parking
Indefinitely...
Street sweepers sleep by the Bay
Dreaming of spring
And summer's stifling heat;
Garbage piles rise to the sky
From graves of snow
A stray cat named Rufus
wrapped in extra layers
Of fat
And black fur,
Streaks into the night,
Looking for love
And mice...
Two hookers in heels
Case the block
Flashing random Johns
And Jills
For 10-dollar thrills
Salt, shovels and greased elbows
Battle ice and snow
And frozen mountains grow
In the aftermath,
Strangling Michellins
And mice in polar death grips...
For Rufus...
~ Pablo (#ASCNR)
2/19/2014
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
My grandfather was an ancient thing
not a person or a place to hold my head
because he was always busy filling it
with the imagery of his life.
From his past where he had to survive
laying still next to his solder friends
who still held their weapons
even when they could not take another breath.
or the time my grandmother had a stillborn child
it would of been my uncle, but instead Rufus went on ahead
before anyone got the chance to meet him
holding his breath just like the soldiers did.
His sister, whose name no longer reaches me
so I usually call her Mrs. Harmony
because when I was four I heard her sing
our "star spangled banner yet wave"
with her soldier brother, my grandfather
standing with his hand over her heart
as she began to hold her breath as well.
I did see my grandfather do
what all his family members did before him
and really he is the reason I say they are holding their breath
that was his...our way of coping with our love ones
who stopped speaking to enjoy a silly little game
and sometimes I wish he could speak up
so I could know if he's been watching all this time.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 1:56 AM UTC
its a cold and broken sky
that shines its light tonight
and the snow on the ground
that slips into the night
My voice cracks my words fall
the floor turns to void
a broken hallelujah escapes
as I disappear beneath their ploy
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 8:49 PM UTC
As I sit front row amongst an abundance of lushness I accompany a congregation filled with long-term friends. The holy ghost is in Canis latrans. Taxidea taxus isn't really diggin' it. Mephitis mephitis came into service smelling a bit reckless. Procyon lotor is all over Lynx rufus's shoulder. Castor canadensis just don't give a **** Neotoma cinerea haven't said a peep and Glaucomys sabrinus is the flyest I've seen in weeks. The tunes that the Warblers are singing is sweet, with the Hawks hitting notes all the way to the peak and you know the Great Horned Owl cadence had to be deep. The gospel put all California Poppy, Star Tulip and Western Pennyroyal to sleep. Now everyone quiet down, all I hear is the river and the wind, patiently waiting for Giant Sequoia to speak. Drum roll please? Pileated Woodpecker knows the perfect beat. The deepest sermon goes unspoken. Nature is the religion and the earth is church. Praises to God for his Kingdom translating his words.
Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 2:49 PM UTC
I am tired of trying to find
Words that rhyme,
Words to quantify
This meaning bereft in my chest.
Where are you now?
You promised to be here forever.
You said that nothing could steer you
From the love found within our bed.
Darling, I know that I’m a fool,
That you did well just to keep with my moods,
But now that I need you more than ever,
I have lost you to some art teacher.
He’s killed Rufus, and stripped me of art.
He has taken from me my constant,
An oxygen tank in this tear-gas foreign field;
Now my lungs are drowning in dread.
And all I can ask in this strange composure
Is where I went wrong in flesh surrender;
Did I not keep you warm through North-Eastern winds?
Did I fail to capture what you felt was the end?
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 8:11 PM UTC
Fall break came at the perfect time. And it's a memory I'll cherish forever -- waterfalls and falling leaves and sunshine and cold waterbottles and plaid flannel shirts named Rufus and milk bottles and miles of blue sky. Monday. Rain on my umbrella, smile for the camera. Tuesday. And then like waking up from a magical dream, blue carpets and textbooks and shifty-eyed girls in Ugg boots and my anxiety. Wednesday. Back to studying for midterms and I'll throw in a pair of borrowed shoes.
I've got hours to wait, so I went outside and Ron said "it's people like me and you who give a **** that'll get A's." Then I went back in and found a side hallway. I wrote down what he said and listened to the janitorial staff. She opened the supply closet and told her friend "come into my office" with a laugh. Five minutes later they came back out talking about how Jamie was ******** about them at nights but it looked to me that they were more ******** about Jamie, and whoever she is, she's apparently worthless. And I wonder if this is how to make friends, by chilling with the cleaning ladies. Actually, that would be a family tradition. Is this how you find your niche?
Now they've moved from talking about Jamie to school shootings and all the good cleaning closets to hide in. And I wonder if this is why I spent 17 years "sheltered", because I'd rather be safe than normal. I'm writing all of this in the back of my science notebook because when I write my fingers don't feel the need to pull at my scalp. Rifle my hair, maybe, but no snapping. And I have 45 minutes before I get another hour to wait.
Sometimes I walk by the art department and I always want to go in, but what would someone like me be doing there? I'm not an artist by any sketch of the imagination. But it's always dark in there and I wonder what goes on in that back hallway. Like this back hallway where I'm sitting with these collegiate white cinderblock walls. How much misery from the cleaning crews have they heard?
Everyone says I'll find my niche, but it's looking to me like all I'll ever find is empty corners and solitary benches. People are okay, but the only person I really have to fall back on seems to be myself.
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
"I never should have let you
Let me go"
-Rufus Humphrey
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 4:28 AM UTC
I have a pet dog; his name’s Wiley.
He doesn’t bark. I don’t fear his bite.
He walks behind me silently
and howls with his pack in the night.
I have a cat named Rufus–
though we call him Bob.
His pointy ears and fluffy tail are all I see
in the deep grass.
The rabbits fear when he's around.
I have a bird named Hawk.
I watch him soar in the distant sky.
Red and gold feathers bend the air
perfectly, making me wish
I could fly.
I have a rabbit named Jack.
He eyes me suspiciously
from the lawn. And hops desultorily.
Then he’s gone.
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 8:57 PM UTC
Churchill
&
Carrey
Milo
Dodo
Rufus
Nelson
and
Marmalade
ASSOCIATED
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 12:50 PM UTC
it must be one one of my favourite quotes,
given the thickness of the novel,
thick as a hefty loaf of bread...
*to angels - the vision of god's throne;
to insects - sensual lust*.
and some for others: the liking toward music
playing is much more than
toward a woman moaning, subsequently snoring...
in a tight-fit straitjacket,
a women loses all the time when compared
to music:
*musica omni vincit consortium
sine opus femina enim*
music wins all consort without a need for a woman
a "...
stressors galore...
when roger became the rabbit,
and the rest was the warner & co.
humming party imitating
atillas' yawn...
and the lost genghis
trip into movie...
*mort apparens in rufus; rufus vividae;
agricola in cataracta*;
death apparent in red, the vivid red;
closure in a waterfall.
porcus latine auxilium.
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 10:02 PM UTC
When I look into the mirror
I imagine the size I want to be
As I look closer, all I see is me,
Losing my weight,
Loving myself more
It’s always on my mind
As I
Daily I struggle with my weight,
work harder to lose my weight
Still I give it all I got
All I see is me,
Losing my weight
Loving myself more
Staying consistent, humble, and meek
It’s a daily task changing the way I think and eat
All I see is me,
Losing my weight,
Loving myself more.
The days go by, the craving aren’t as bad
The more I lose my weight,
I don’t feel as sad
All I see is me,
Loving myself more
I’m comfortable with my size
And exercising is starting to come easy now
It’s not just what you eat,
It’s how you eat
As I’m losing my weight
Loving myself more
Truly I feel better about myself
Losing weight is more than the reduction of size,
It’s the way you live
And learning to put your pride aside
Written by Rufus Calvin Henderson
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
Buck the system
try to **** the system
and they'll find you in a field
filled with lead
dead.
Then they'll call it suicide,
no gun to be found but
hey
guns can run and hide
can't they?
We are being spied on
twenty four
seven,
satellite imagery follows
your trajectory
and every where you go
they know.
Rufus told me,
it's me talking fuckery,
which I think means
he doesn't believe me
but you do
don't you?
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 11:34 AM UTC