"rugrats" poems
I felt your ghost sitting in that chair with me today.
I don't know when I took to sitting in it too
But I mean, it makes sense that I'd like it.
People develop the same tastes as their best friends,
And as their fathers.
When dad left you were their to make it
Not so bad.
And you didn't like dad very much
So you had no reservations
About adopting his chair as yours.
But then you left too
And six years later
The scars both of you left behind
Have only just now healed enough
For the chair to gain me as its occupant.
I reclined it it all the way today
And as the silence engulfed me
You and I cracked up together
And played video games while my dad
Sat there too: snoring,
Unable to stay up with his kids
To watch The Rugrats
Before putting them to bed.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?
one glass of Ovaltine- oops, I had three
can we fix it? yes we can!
a plethora of beanie babies always at hand
no play-doh or silly putty on the couch
remember the smell of York patties when you opened the pouch?
Teletubbies is on, I hear the nu-nu
my beloved game boy and Gremlins; Gizmo's my booboo
come along and see what's new
it's me, you, and Zooboomafu
remember when Emily wished on a dragon scale?
that's what started the Dragon Tales
I'd drop anything to catch the Rugrats show
Tommy, Dil, Angelica, Chuckie was kinda slow
Cinnamon Toast Crunch in my bowl
Soccer Boppers and those little ugly trolls
Jell-O pudding and Dragon Ball Z
I knew the Fresh Prince song when I was only three
I still watch SpongeBob and now I'm in high school
just because you keep it real doesn't make that you're uncool.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 2:38 PM UTC
Sitting in the quiet pulchritude,
In limerence, I am drenched,
Luculent from head to foot.
Watching people gallivanting -
Some agathist, impavid with life,
In eucatastrophe, they are.
The lollylags and misantrophic,
Dillydallying with humdudgeon.
The rugrats in constant bumfuzzle;
Stroking their rumpots are the drunk,
A man and a woman, and a bingle,
Then a belgard was exchanged.
No noise, just music in my ears;
No argle-bargle of the blatherskite;
No conniption from old hag.
No need to absquatulate,
Just enjoy the quiet festivities.
Tiny hairs on my arms stood on end,
As I felt the wind surround me.
What a beauty this place is,
The hoddy-noddies took for granted.
Melancholy, serenity, strangely nostalgic.
Pictures of the past and the future,
Disembogue, delivered from my head.
All this images ensorcell me, over and over,
With a final intake of breath and a shudder,
I took in the picture, forever encapsulated in my mind.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
this is the way the world ends
not with a bang
or a whimper
but with kids who grow up taught to aspire to greatness
are expected to be fulfilled by
a house
a spouse
a couple of rugrats
a 9-5 existence
a war we didn't ask to fight
a national debt our great-grandchildren will be paying off
a government that didn't listen the first time
or second
or third?
this is the way the world ends
with the American Dream
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
one pill
two pill
three pill
four
how many pills till i drop to the floor
float like smoke
and kiss the ember goodnight
how many pills till it's all right
xanax and rugrats
high and content
no more stress over what i can't prevent
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
Carry through the light of the pines,
Where the fog drifts gently,
Where the birds pleasantly sing.
Where the strangers are kind,
Dress strangely,
So different from these car-choked streets,
And nobody knows anybody else's names,
Where the waitresses don't know your usual,
And the coffee tastes like burnt beans.
Where the Friday night football is a family event,
Even if the rugrats aren't in high school yet,
Where the number of trucks outnumber the cars,
And the rust spots adorn the bodies like badges on a decorated soldier,
And the mud is still spattered on the sides.
Jan 22, 2023
Jan 22, 2023 at 12:43 AM UTC
The thing about running into your house
after it has been on
fire is the amount of cinder and ash.
Something I didn’t know
was after the fire department puts all of the fire out,
the family goes back in.
I was afraid to go in-
-side. I thought the house
would collapse. The idea was to pick out
everything I wanted cleaned and put it on
“the pile.” Photo-albums, Baptism gowns, no-
tes from the war. All covered in ash.
I don’t remember what I picked, but I remember the ash
For some reason I open-
-ed my particle-board nightstand. No
valuables, but books, and a CD. How is
that I remember that it was a Rugrats Computer game lying on
a stack of Goosebumps books, but I can’t pick out
anything but the out-
line of an ash-
-free cd-shape on
books. In,
my whole family, how is
it that no
one else knows,
no one else figured out
that my mother got everyone out of the house
and was so desperate for cash
that she went back in
and turned the iron
on.
No-
-thing was accidental. The en-
-tirety of my childhood smoked out
by sheets of ash.
Coming out of the house
That day I learned some things: When you clean ash out and when
you leave it in, when lies go on and up and build a house of lies to live in.
when to say “I love you” and when to say, “No Mom, I don’t”
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 1:10 PM UTC
The first game of spring
It was the first game of the year.
The go lump ducks vs the hot rugrats.
On 1st base for the hot rugrats is: Tiny judy mad cat
On 2nd is Flash betty furball
At shortstop is lucky slip maybell
On 3rd three leg piggy polecat
Rt field Cassy cool cat
Cfield Tiffy Mudcat
Lt field Vicky short pants Field cat.
Pitching Wild arm Jayne legcat
Catching Junk Cat Kitty
The game is cancel due to Rats on the field the team is hard to control
A real mess the lump ducks left after the first rat was tore apart.
But that's your line up for tomorrow's game.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
This is the sad song
Of men and women
Who create offspring
When they don’t like children.
They set their minds up
To repeatedly bear them
To avoid askance looks
And any open criticism.
So they suffer and complain
About what a heavy burden
It is for them to have to
Put up with their children.
Each day with the rugrats
Nets no child any praise
They see not much beauty
In the offspring they raise.
If a soul deprived mother
Never felt love of her own
She has none to spare,
No patience to condone.
The talk of these parents
Is of not having any peace,
No time of their own then,
No feeling of surcease.
It’s as if a child born
Has but few years to grow
Before needing to be an adult
Who will automatically know.
That they must know to parent
The sick adult needy one
Who doesn’t seem to like them
Or anything much they have done.
This is the sad tune of those
Who made many awful choices
But still have no use for any
Of loving, advising voices.
It’s a song too many sing;
The music heart breaking,
Yet few of those parents know
The sense of trust they are taking.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 8:25 PM UTC
And, I keep running and hiding from myself.
I tap a few of me on the shoulder then disappear; this is what magic looks like.
The rugrats of me scatter to globe corners I don't care to scan.
A daycare of the same fool.
I'll let the spiders and their webs move the me's closer to me.
That is my advantage; my fault.
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 2:43 AM UTC
processing power, no delays, high octane fury, filtered through a glorious glass hole, gaze and wonder with me, I'm somewhere that seems to be..further away, it was all allowed to happen, I took control of it, or let it go? Honestly that thought perplexes me, I don't know, a whirl wind, I'm on a spaceship, reading to roosters, letting them give their crow,, allowing them to breath in deeply and cough when needed, its connecting on a stream, and the stream is nice and easy, It understands what it has control over and what it doesn't, gives In sometimes, but it lets the mind be deceiving for a second, then flows back in
Imagine the miccrochorsims, exploring their own roots deeply chaotic, deeply beyond, anything, I, don’t understand…..
Come with me on my digging adventure
Care to have a think? I thinking not, thoughts through fixations
flick a cigarette and lick a split, you savaging ***** sensitivity of a ****
Come wardrobed with me in Narnia, waking with fixed hats, Wonderland, Haunted by petty notes, humorous haunting, actually amusing
slaving over the machines, slaving over the rides,
I ensure you, I know how to have a good time
Raging with rambunctious rugrats, pleasant and fun, consuming hours, forgotten hours, fantasies are magic, to forget is perfect
love of saggatarius? love of Scorpio? Jupider and Mars? your words that you thought meant something burn up in the wind, after a long bonfire, burn the ones we thought were vain, it all came from the same well, frame them all,
frame all of them, in my haunted fantasy
love your point? I love it too, I sign and I go with you, Love your thesis? I thought it was interesting, lets come up with some counter arguments and I’ll let your string pull me towards you
Love your praxis? your objective? your target audience? let them hear your rapsody, and hopefully they will live in a new way, their new truth that will get them through the day, their belief, that will hold their prayers, and loosen, affirm
Love your richeousness? have, have it, and lay in the grass and look at the sky, wonder with reason, come up with a solution, emerge and go back to work
frame it all, I will frame it for you, then laugh and light my cigar, that’s what I’ll do, in my haunted fantsasy, come with me! I’ll show you
FRAME IT ALL, FRAME IT ALL, FRAME IT ALL
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 8:33 PM UTC
Care to have a think? I thinking not, thoughts through fixations
flick a cigarette and lick a split, you savaging ***** sensitivity of a ****
Come wardrobed with me in Narnia, waking with fixed hats, Wonderland, Haunted by petty notes, humorous haunting, actually amusing
slaving over the machines, slaving over the rides,
I ensure you, I know how to have a good time
Raging with rambunctious rugrats, pleasant and fun, consuming hours, forgotten hours, fantasies are magic, to forget is perfect
love of saggatarius? love of Scorpio? Jupider and Mars? your words that you thought meant something burn up in the wind, after a long bonfire, burn the ones we thought were vain, it all came from the same well, frame them all,
frame all of them, in my haunted fantasy
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
Suspense echos on the mother land. A new born child's life at hand. Fought, they say, but she hardly new the lines. She told them so, but they begged for just some signs. The rugrats and baboons ruled the kingdom; they slept on rocks. Soon as the Clementines got a chew on little peer, they swore a lot she was rot and had better not come near. Stage-froze child left behind by her own kind, except the occasional taunts and questions that would one day compose a mind. Played much like a tune, she learned in seclude and rot,"The worst is never best, but the best is what you've got." Despite the lies and psycho-schemes you find to love yourself. And she looked back to wish upon her peers great joy and abundant health.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
I woke up with the sun
And bedtime was at 8
My moms song was original
And dad just kind of faked it (But he tried!)
They were what Id hear before I went to sleep.
Sometimes Id play in the rain
and run in my boots
in Power ranger pajamas
Caught in a living dream
Playtime, the name of the game.
My sister was a friend,
She chewed off the nose of my teddy bear,
But she found our second cat.
And in time, we'd talk about our favorite Pokemon.
The first cat, we'd avoid
Under the living room sofa.
There were games,
Fireflies,
Beanie babies,
And some serious fights.
Those were my 90's.
I didnt start a grunge phase until I was 15
I didnt know about Lewinsky
I just wanted my next tape
of Rugrats.
When OJ was happening,
I was discovering anime.
And when there was the tragedy at Columbine
It was just my seventh birthday.
Innocence is seen
As the arc of the sun
A bright time
A single perfect day
Where you're never sure when it will be noon
And you never fear the dusk
When its done.
The opposite of Adam's First Day.
Maybe innocence was a pair of blinders
That protected us
Unconscious
To the real shadows outside
Even when our piggy bank mutated in the dark
And there was that nightmare about Barney with a tomahawk.
Strange as it seems,
Im grateful for them,
And I hope to God, you had a pair too.
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 2:04 AM UTC