"swerved" poems
Every time the bucks went clattering
Over Oklahoma
A firecat bristled in the way.
Wherever they went,
They went clattering,
Until they swerved
In a swift, circular line
To the right,
Because of the firecat.
Or until they swerved
In a swift, circular line
To the left,
Because of the firecat.
The bucks clattered.
The firecat went leaping,
To the right, to the left,
And
Bristled in the way.
Later, the firecat closed his bright eyes
And slept.
5.8k
our coolest babysitter lit a long joint and drove us to church
in her well worn '87 oldsmobile with chipped gold paint
a drooping side mirror and a tape player
that smelled like stale london gin mothballs
and a sunset butterfly heart at the same time
it had a deep ocean green calcite mandala
dancing from the windshield mirror
and a steal-your-face tattooed on the back glass
she used to blare brit-pop trying
to make the speakers bleed
that day when they finally oozed she swerved us
left through the other lane and sunday morning fog
to cut a jagged path through thick woods and into an oak tree
with a soundtrack of slow motion oasis and screeching tires
i clammored to the backseat to block the window
glass from your beautiful angelic blonde head as
dew sprayed into the vacancy from the ditch and
when i pulled the seatbelt spiderweb out of your mouth
and lifted you out of the car i was standing
barefoot in a cluster of bright red sumac next to
an ant hill pile of twisted steaming metal
and you were dripping blood from your eye and knees
asking me if we'd be late for sunday school
but you were awake and trying to smile so
we followed the powerlines back to the main road
holding hands dizzy and sweating
worried no one would ever find us
limping while the springtime songbirds
held their tongues for us but
when the hot ringing in my ears finally stopped
the sirens grew loud and close and the
birds too began their wet lipped eulogy
sometimes i think about
missing church that day
when the weather's bad
on nights like last night
sometimes i remember
our babysitter when
the fog rolls in over
the road in the morning
i wonder if she still
gets high on the
good stuff while
she drives or
if she's just
a treehugger
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 9:09 AM UTC
the ground is rumbling
the crowd is cheering
as the hardworking players
tear up the field
as he swerved around the opponent
every roulette, every fake
every slightest touch
is a sparkle in the night
it's amazing how this simple game
so fun and so enchanting
yet so emotional
has taken over our lives
football isn't just a game
it is a lifestyle
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
Deranged rocks, spread in albeit magnetic threads
rattle the sky's mirror with impatience.
Lay her feet on the ground, the young girl did.
The touch of her soft, dampened scarf
kindled the metamorphic calm.
My veritas found its unwanted shrine--
The dreadful peace that let it dine,
upon the well-being of its host nest its swine.
The ****** amalgam in her eyes
led its produce down her wavy brown vines.
They hid her cheeks, and brought down traited drops
of long-withheld tangy crust
towards the lavender ascot.
She grabbed onto her feet,
warm and wrapped with white cotton and wool heat...
she caressed the ornamental fabric,
swerved her fingers along its threaded magic.
Their lacy innocence familiarized her and made her smile,
whence the memory of her veritas triggered in her mouth's isle.
She lay her hopeful eyes on the silver-nitrate clad scarf,
covering the now-calming rocks' quaff.
Of my reflection her face saw only loss,
for her recognition seemed forever trapped in virtuality,
in moss.
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 11:39 AM UTC
(the birth of Christ - in Gen-Z slang)
Mary and Joseph were tight-ship.
Mary was a real-one, and no clout-chaser
One night Angel Gabriel overstreeted with word
that Cap-G made Mary chabby with soup-baby
Mary was shook and big-mad but Joseph
was baby-goggles for Cap-G’s quinlan fetus
so Mary was “okrrrrrrrrr”
A minute later Mary and Joe had to roll deep,
adulting to Bethlehem with tribute to Augustus,
the main character, but no mo-mo swerved em’
ghetto and asan Mary was Cap-G’s baby-mama!
Later these bchaps rfts biters brang Cap-J
some bag and herb to extra flex for Cap-G
while angels lay in the cut with lowkey bop.
———————- translation
Mary and Joseph were married and in love.
Mary was an average girl not into notoriety
.
One night Angel Gabriel appeared and said
that God made Mary pregnant with his child
Mary was shaken-up and and angry but Joseph
Was excited for them to have God’s beautiful child
so Mary was had no choice but to say “OK”
Months later Mary and Joe had to travel far together,
As citizens, to Bethlehem to pay taxes to Augustus (Caesar).
Emperor of rome, but a lack of motels caused them to
Stay in a manger and there Mary had God’s child.
Later these rich star followers brought Jesus
some money and herb as gifts to impress God
while angels gathered and sang to comfort the child.
Dec 17, 2021
Dec 17, 2021 at 5:14 AM UTC
Everytime you
Whispered
In her ear
The car swerved
Each time
You slid
Your fingers
Over her shoulder
I grew unnerved
You looked
At me
And said
Your fantasy
Was between us
I never hated you more than then
She sobbed
I cussed
I hope
Someday
You know how it feels
To want to
**** a man
And drive away
Aug 13, 2021
Aug 13, 2021 at 8:06 PM UTC
<i>If your wife is murdered and the killer is never caught
If your son is killed by a drunk driver who swerved his direction
We always hear the word “closure” used in many situations
It’s like putting a band-aid on a wound needing stitches
It can’t bring a deceased spirit back to life
It can’t find the man who murdered your wife
It may bring some temporary relief from your grief
But the word closure is never quite complete
Search parties scour the ocean
For that missing plane near Laos
Radar say’s it went down over there
But no-one can really say where
It’s at the bottom of the sea
To deep for the eyes to see
In reality it’s a watery tomb
It may never be found and all that we hear
Is that word closure mentioned …oh dear
The relatives are seen crying in disbelief
Like it’s a bad dream and there’s no relief
That closure word is so meaningless it’s almost comical
I for one refuse to use it or mention it to family
When I hear it at a funeral I just try to ignore it
It’s easy for me to make that statement
When I am the one doing the talking
While another poor soul receives the bad news
That word closure is giving me the “blues”
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 2:02 AM UTC
The sun was up, and daylight blue
Filled all the air, but in the streets
An obsidian dress fast cloaked la rue
As evil crept on stealthy feet
Which seemed at first to be small threat
And undetect; but threat was rife
With subtle moves the spylings breathe
The stench of death, they lower life
In a malicious, abrupt way
Bewildered me, made themselves known
Enemies to Freedom they
Serve only to protect the crown
We tangled, thrashed, my soul abashed
As in obsidian pall it drowned
And so throughout the bleak days, years
They barricade the street and skies
Their poxy prisons bring me years
As they cull freebird as he flies
He nimble tells their secrets for dear
Price, a price upon his years
Whereon the chase upon my back
The devils apace to do their Ill
Behind, beside me hearts pure black
Know only evil Love no thrill
For ****** rank they have the knack
Of making life turn still
The car swerved in with metal groan
I run past them ever fast
They the inquisition to my Joan
Freedoms flag upon my
mast
Such fearfulness I have not known
Than that they inspire, all hope lost
What will become of our good man?
Their petulance stalks him, his friends
If all this time with strength he can
Put doomed world on the mend
He hath outwit them, beat the man
Even if to grave they him send
It is about a year ago
The hunt, chase for me was afoot
As we pacing to and fro
In that town of soot
A town of beauty till I behold
The black coats and jackboots
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
He would ride up to the field
God had lain so purposefully for him
Along the final bight of an earthen track.
Narrow, which climbed, as with him
It swerved. He believed in God then.
Fenced off, blades became thick as
A dare, a moment—before confession
Or asking out his girl, the one whose
Crescent eyes in smile moonlit clefts
In his time. He would see her moving
Her body like His girl, exhaling His
Name, as if He was her only breath.
Through oceanic grasses she would
Flow in his ear, all the warm hadal
Mist of her. Aging wood throbbing
From gusts of wind on the fence. Deep
Enclosure of slender stalks and stems
Swaying by the rhythm of an ancient
Reverie. Crickets and junebugs, early
Fireflies lilting, sung to him tunes of
Indecipherable freedom. But not once
Did he cross, not once did he ever
Disturb a nature obeying the music.
Only the torrid yearning he allowed
To slip through the separation, knowing
There it was reunited, home among
The barely heard hum of the grasses
Oneiric and bare. Years later, when
The fence had disappeared, he once
Walked through and was overcome
By an emptiness thrashing against
Emptiness. In a single gust, scented of
His desinence, those years passed again
And he thought. *Even if I’d crossed,
Had joined—not disturbed. Even if*.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 8:23 PM UTC
At the risk of being critical
You’re nothing but a criminal.
You take what you want
And even stop to flaunt
You thinking you are pretty
Makes you have no pity.
You take all personal pride
From how you look outside.
You’re as deep as a saucer
And before I go further
Let me lay this fact on you
Most of us are on to you.
We expect so little of you,
It makes it hard to love you.
There’s so little more to see
Than your superficiality.
To be sure your looks served
To attract me so I swerved
And ran along beside you
To learn what was inside you
But imagine my great surprise
To find nothing behind your eyes.
As far as I soon came to tell
It was like I was talking to a well.
But it is okay, cutie, it’s all fine
I’ll just move on down the line
And find someone with a soul;
A personality that is whole.
I will find a person who cares
About more than clothes and hair
You can move on and have fun
With some other image-oriented one.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
You were like nicotine for a while
you filled me up
and I felt whole
but I didn't think you were toxic
I remember like yesterday
how you took my delicate hand
with boney malnourished fingers
with green and purple veins
and you gently kissed it
and for an instant I was fascinated
But from those couple of seconds
that were called an instant
I became completely infatuated
with my head in cotton clouds
But it's been almost a year
and you've moved on,
onto your next victim
And theres a hurricane of of emotions
because you've informed me
that you are happy and whole
(Which was what I was trying to make you)
but it hurt because it wasn't me making you happy
It was the girl with simplicity stamped on her image
and freckles that you probably enjoyed counting
it was not the millions of pages
I had written to you
trying so hard to make you
love yourself like I loved you
And I still sit and wonder about you everyday
And when the teacher asked
us to write about the best day of our lives
my mind swerved back to you
but I knew that you were a few seats behind
probably writting about your freckled face girl
I still remember
the warm ambrosia
I felt fill me up
like blood in veins
and marrow in bones
when our fingers intertwined
and you stared into my soul
I wonder if she feels
the nicotine and ambrosia too
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 12:45 AM UTC
You know nothing – she said,
Stepping out of the flames.
At that moment I knew
We ain't playing no games.
With desire I burned.
Her immaculate blaze –
Nothing else did I yearn.
Pure as pharos her gaze.
… And we danced, and we swerved,
Glints and flickers beside.
So august our verve
Which no woe would betide.
…In a flash she took off –
The mirage molt away,
But my sorrow paid off –
I live on for the day.
11-3-2017
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 12:54 AM UTC
I was driving to work tonight and I almost swerved off the road because I was staring at Orion's Belt as it hung near the horizon of the sky.
Please study the following photo and connect the dots on Orion, his belt, and his arrow:
(A detailed answer will be on the back for comparison)
I do not pretend to understand astrology nor astronomy.
Orion’s arrow always points north. You can use it as a compass if you are traveling somewhere where there are not many signs of light. In October, if you crane your neck and squint your eyes and maybe pray to God, Orion will shoot arrow after arrow off into the sky and you will be able to make your first wish upon a shooting star. (If you are in a desert, and that is why you are navigating by constellations, pray for help.)
His belt is made up of three sisters and I wonder if they talk to him in the night and keep him company?
(Is it possible to be up in the Heavens, overlooking the world, while still feeling lonely and insignificant?)
Constellations move minutely every year. In this way, they are similar to humans. Always roaming. Always looking for change.
When Orion boasted that he could **** any living animal on the planet, Gaia, the Earth Goddess, objected and sent a scorpion after him. After his death, Zeus flung his body into the stars; fractured to pieces, glowing softly in the night sky, Orion continues to hunt his prey into the dark, cold depths of the Milky Way.
Maybe, if you prayed to the Greek Gods, you could find yourself breathing in the stars, too.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
Fleas as a breed are troublesome
And some much more than most
There’s a vegan flea that lives near me
By the title of Archibald Post
He has a peculiar aptitude
For the swift calculation of odds
So he hunts for his prey on the high street
Leaving peas sound asleep in their pods.
When he leapt up and nibbled the ankle
Of a bloke as he ambled on by
He parked his parasitic posterior
And gazed up at the open sky
The bitten man stopped and scratched an itch
And harassed his smitten limb
When a blind man with a Labrador
Careered straight into him
He fell over and dropped his hamburger
The dog lunged and caught it with speed
But leading his man into traffic
Was the price of this dastardly deed
A car swerved and walloped a lamppost
Which fell through the front of a florist
The bulb set alight an entire display
Like a fire in a miniature forest
A girl in the office above the street
Grabbed her phone to call out some help
When she dropped it in her anxiety
And it fractured her toe with a yelp
She lent on the windowsill urgently
And knocked off and apple she’d saved
Its descent to the street was in moments complete
And the apple was thoroughly paved
Archibald smiled, breakfast was served
**
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 3:31 PM UTC
I'm sitting in a bar. A place where they all collect. They come together with smiling eyes and open hearts and sit, drink and just shoot the **** They are all noteworthy people, not a boring or reserved soul among the bunch. And they share stories of their highs, lows and purgatories.
One of them, his name's Jimmy, tells the story he always tells when he's teetering between coherency and slop-talk. He tells of how he died. He hopped in his car one day, and boy did he love his cars. And that particular car, the one his heart stopped beating in, was his favorite. He sped down the road, his hair blowing in the wind and his hand beating the side of the door as he sang "Strangers in the Night" as it blasted through his radio speakers. He wasn't drunk, he never really was fond of drinking when he was still breathing (he says being dead is depressing and alcohol is the only thing that "assures" him). His car swerved sharply, it was raining, and he just couldn't control the hunk of metal. His head hit the windshield before he even knew what happened.
Jimmy looked down at his Jack and Coke and smiled. His eyes, now drowning in salt water, glistened off the cheap fluorescent lights. He told me he never got to tell his mother he loved her. Never got to tell his girlfriend that he thought they were meant to be. Never got to show the world that the man hidden behind so many layers of insecurity and recklessness was a man that was going to span time, generations. And I look back at him, my mouth curling a little and told him that he might not have gotten to talk to his mother or his girlfriend... But he **** well made his mark. After all, he's in a bar filled with dozens of people with stories not unlike his own. And he's talking to me. Me, with my chest inflating and deflating as it filled and emptied itself of sugary oxygen. Me, with my eyes alive and blinking and shining with life. Me, who is alive.
At least, I hope to God I am.
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 7:16 PM UTC
***No one passes through here ever stays for long
i can't even seem to catch sight of my own road home
The body hanging at the end of my own line i don't recognize
waiting for a change ― that never comes around
Fleeting through the primrose path crossroads in a blur,...
right now i'm standin' here like a brainless scarecrow all alone
Just another familiar frost heave pothole barely shunt
swerved around like an unmarked bump
on this frozen lonesome road
i let you see it and you told me what it was ,..
but the rear-view mirror only reflects the tracks left behind
Looking for the Black Box to unearth the cause of the crash
somewhere underneath a black and white rainbow i can't find
If you see a wayfaring stranger that abides undone
don't even stop to feel the ache that trickles down
Just hit the gas and hold sway the wheels go round,
look off---- the dead raccoon lay sullied at the side of the road
No one passes through here ever stays for long
i can't even seem to catch sight of my own road home
The body hanging at the end of my own line i don't recognize
waiting for a change ― that never comes***
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 12:48 AM UTC
It was a kid-glove orange, a
leaf, or a Dancy tangerine
falling from the tree. I didn't
see it. I was watching a dance
of anger on TV while learning
to swing in a way that left me
needing my forlorn hope. The
change did not occur. Outside,
a drunk driver wearing zipper-skin
orange driving gloves swerved
sharply and hit my old, gnarled
tree during imbuing my hearing
with ****** innuendo. He could
not escape his awkward accident.
Much later, I heard that he had
suffered from Saint Vitus's dance.
In time, no one was able to heal
the wounds of my soul. I wanted
this Duvet day to end quickly.
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 5:39 PM UTC
HIS chosen comrades thought at school
He must grow a famous man;
He thought the same and lived by rule,
All his twenties crammed with toil;
"What then?' sang Plato's ghost. "What then?"
Everything he wrote was read,
After certain years he won
Sufficient money for his need,
Friends that have been friends indeed;
"What then?' sang Plato's ghost. " What then?'
All his happier dreams came true --
A small old house, wife, daughter, son,
Grounds where plum and cabbage grew,
poets and Wits about him drew;
"What then.?' sang Plato's ghost. "What then?'
The work is done,' grown old he thought,
"According to my boyish plan;
Let the fools rage, I swerved in naught,
Something to perfection brought';
But louder sang that ghost, "What then?'
1.5k
I wasn't afraid of you, you know.
You had your team and your burning stares,
but I wasn't afraid.
Little did you know, I had my arrows pointed at you.
We all had the same passion-
In the beginning that is.
We all wanted something out of this experience.
But most importantly,
we all wanted to be on top.
So we started climbing the
cold, ragged, stormy mountain
to see who could make it to the there.
I was behind in the beginning,
invisible from their distance above.
A tiny ant that could be stomped upon,
an inconvenience.
But in the distance below,
through the evergreen trees
and the cold rustling wind,
I had my arrows pointed at you.
I started gaining up seed,
respect,
gratitude,
confidence.
I saw the looks of your faces as I was passing by you.
The defeat.
Looking into the those eyes,
I still had my arrows pointed at you.
And I reached the top.
With callused feet and sore muscles.
With an aching heart and an uneven chest.
I looked down below and then saw your laughs.
Your smiles.
I heard your words.
You had your fingers pointed to me.
They were now my demons,
haunting me in the light.
The were now scars on my heart,
locking myself further and further away.
But in the night and in the light of day,
I had my arrows pointed to you.
I’m dancing on this mountain,
at least for right now.
Because I’m at the top,
so why not enjoy it.
But my arrows are still like a live wire
between my fingers
pointed at you.
I saw you today.
I tried to look away,
to keep you and your heartless soul
in a distant memory stored away
like a forgotten childhood trait.
But you swerved your path and fell right into mine.
Intentionally.
You want me to be afraid.
You want me to regret the decisions I made.
You want me to be weak.
But darling,
you've got it all wrong.
Because when success seeps through my veins
and you’ll be forced to hear my name
every day- to you, like nails on a chalkboard-
remember this.
That I was never afraid.
I made the right decisions.
I was never weak.
Because my arrows were always pointed at you.
And now the fingers of life are the ones
that are letting these arrows target straight to your heart.
And like always,
I’ll always be at the top of that mountain with
With callused feet and sore muscles.
With an aching heart and an uneven chest.
But this time you won’t be laughing and smiling
and saying false words about me.
You’ll be afraid
because I’ll have my dignity
and my team of burning stares
with our arrows pointed at you
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
They promised me, a voyage to the moon
One splendid celestial adventure
The animate odyssey of the century
An end to this peace finding venture.
To catch a glimpse of the lunar eclipse
on the way to the land of silver moondust
to reside in its icy ambience
where all your troubles turn to rust.
Instead they swerved the ship - diverged
headed directly to the scorching sun,
Its' incandescent flames burnt & surged
as my skin ignited in agony & formed-
into charred fragments of despair -
I'm ashes adrift in pitch black space
out of reach & beyond repair
gazing longingly at the moons' cozy face.
Jul 20, 2021
Jul 20, 2021 at 1:05 PM UTC
No one to run to, no one to talk to
No one to call, no one at all
Separated from the world
Isolated from family
Departed from friends
Same routine of the Lonely life again...and again
When times of struggle
When times of stress
When times of pain
Lonesome soul moving through the rain
Nothing different its always the same
Same routine of the lonely life again...and again
Awakened to the silence day after day
The sound of speech is so inside deep
Unfamiliar with words, not even a peep
Foreign sounds to the ear
Lying down in deep despair
Same routine of the lonely life again...and again
Come to realize this horrid lifestyle
The one that's been here for quite a while
The one that brings no sort of smile
The one that cause the pain and suffering
The one that's the blame for that low self esteem
For the weather outside has never been seen
Afraid the world might seem too mean
No one to call best friend, let alone any friend
Everyday is the same question: "When will this end"
Days, weeks, years gone by and yet its still the same
Until one day there was a cease to this pain
Suddenly swerved onto a different lane
Realizing the previous lifestyle was nothing to gain
Mentality transformed
Its time for change
Happiness is restored into life
Even though it required some sacrifice
Smiles, smiles from left and right
Those lonely tears no longer in sight
This lifestyle has been shifted into the light
The world of darkness has ceased to occur
For joy has regained his spot, I'm sure
No more times of struggle
No more times of stress
No more times of pain
the sunshine has dried up all the rain
The same routine of that lonely lifestyle
Never, never again!
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 6:31 PM UTC
It seemed like a story
For Schrödinger
Time and distance ensured that
They were
All things and
Nothing
At once
And, in this way, they stayed in perpetual orbit
She wondered if
In another life
In another place
Time
Universe
Their lives would have intersected
Instead of diverging
Unrequited
To haunt her with all that could have been
It was the bitterest irony
When at last their paths swerved together
That both hearts had already been spoken for
Somewhere
The Fates were surely cackling
As the air hung heavy
With all the possibilities
That died on the vine
Because time was never on their side
How could one even cry for something they’d never had?
She found herself heaving uncontrolled sobs
Shaking with unfettered grief
In mourning
For all the things
She had wanted to live
All the bright dreams of their teenage years
That had seemed so perfect
Shattered by the bitterness of
Growing up
And that old ******* Father Time
If she were honest with herself
She’d admit it was not him
She actually loved all these years
But all the things he might have been
—or rather—
All the things she might have been with him
What a different life she might have had if
One day
She had followed her
Wild teenage love
Instead of living in this cosmic joke
She’ll never know
But she’ll heave sobs
For all the parallel lives she is not living
And the orbit she will return to
Knowing she’ll never be satisfied
She’ll always wonder
Always be gazing off
Trying to glimpse a galaxy
Where things turned out better
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 7:20 PM UTC
She chants saccharine words
Calamity dissolves into ruins
The sweetest words I’d ever heard
She chants saccharine words
All focus swerved
A conquest worth pursuing
She chants saccharine words
Calamity dissolves into ruins
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 4:15 PM UTC
August sun stung my eyes
as sweat trickled down my brow waiting.
Anxiety and Fantasy banged around in my head turning like a picture book
i saw you emerge from the blinding lights and heat waves
Baby i was smitten by you
inhaling deep sweet smokes from the tip of a pipe
i walked a concrete line as sweltering reality dipped and swerved
dancing around your carelessly moving body
Baby i was infatuated by you.
resting in the shadows of the day
I, i couldn't breathe
you stole the breath from me as you kissed me
i had an enviable lust for you
Baby i loved you
the gentle swerves became dodges
I grew impatient with you
having miserable meetings over your movements
you chose to move with someone else when i went to the bathroom
Baby i hated you.
blinded by the words burnt into my head
feeling her imprint where I
I was suppose to fit!
Baby i hated you!
i gave you my heart and you burnt it!
BABY I LOVED YOU!
this monkey wrench beaten me into madness,
impaled by my rage
I ******* hate you!
your gentle touches ripped the fabric of my soul
you ******* murdered me!
Baby you burnt me.
leaving nothing but a ****** scarlet letter
i scrubbed my skin with sandpaper
And couldn't get rid of your traces
Baby i longed for you.
i needed you.
i loved you.
I love you.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC
*You may find this hard to believe
But I just saw a monkey
Drive by me doing eighty
In a Maserati
Eating rainbow ice cream
In a cone from Dairy Queen
I don't mean to sound mean
But should a monkey be eating ice cream
Just then I saw a cat
Right before he went splat
Jaywalking will often do that
And that my friend is straight up fact
The monkey swerved to avoid him
That's when he lost control and
Into a brick wall he slammed
As the ice cream went a flying
Since a cat has nine lives
He came to quite surprised
As Keith Richards does most nights
The ice cream landed just right
The monkey's now in heaven
The cat is ice cream licking
The Maserati is a has been
So I guess this must be the end*
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC