"tird" poems
bout tree years ago
me planted me seed in me wife
me wife looked like a a tird babylon
had grown on er tomach
bout a year ago
she **** out a rastafarian mon
and de babylon disapeared
me say me tink es ugly
how should me give em away
me tink me give em back to jah
me gona leave im in da cah
and bake em like da ganga
ee almost went back to jah
me wife say wat was u tinkin
me say me didnt no
she say how me be so dum
me say me smoke a ton
she say ow much is dat
me say it be alot
she say ow much is alot
"like, dis much"
(me old out me hands to show)
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 10:57 PM UTC
me lungs aint pure wit out ganga
me mind aint pure wit out rasta
who be in my basement?
da rasta mon who stole me bank statement.
why he steal me bank statement
only jah will know.
me tird leg ain pure wit out soap
me arm peets aint pure wit out soap
soap is da purest
jah supply us wit soap
tank u jah
we like da soap u supply
we do not deny
here id de reggae household
jah.
J
A
H
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Here's my tird attempt to post this
a Memory from my Yut
To all us ***** fellows
One BIG salute
A good lovin' woman's like a crusin' Cadillac
She'll make every curve & never jump the track
She'll hug ya & squeeze ya & never miss a turn
And when it comes to power she's got plenty to burn
Now if she's the kind with an automatic shift
She'll slide right into gear & never feel stiff
If she's got the gears that include the clutch
You'll only have to let it out a little, not to much
On the outside she's really one clean machine
With all of her shimmer, sparkle, shine & gleam
On the inside she's plush & soft to the touch
And she'll take you for a ride that's really too much
Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 9:57 PM UTC
She shuffles and scuttles quickly along
beating her way,
through the Christmas throng
The north wind cutting her mottled face
But shes not part of the Christmas race
For things not needed, luxurious, unwise
Her mind fixed on the price and size
Of a winter coat in that Oxfam place,
she prays its still there, she quickens her pace.
The bell dings-a-ling as she opens the door
Not feeling her legs so tird and sore
Like a long lost friend it waits on the rail
she thanks her god its still for sale.
Her hurry finished, her purchase complete
She focuses now on something to eat
To the corner shop she makes to go
happier now , her step is slow
bread and milk ,this and that
two tins of food for her little cat
Home at last her mission complete
She models her coat and warms her feet
She cuddles her cat and locks her door
She makes their tea and she cuddles him more
She dims the light her prayers are said
She thanks her god for her winter coat
that doubles as a duvet for her bed.
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 4:08 PM UTC
I toss and turn to erace the memory
Focus on something delightful
A sunny day
A moonlight night
Flash, and freeze frame, my brain explodes in pain
The pain of deciet
The sight, the smell, the taste....of your deciet
The tears threaten to drown me
As our special child sleeps, unaware ....of your deciet
No anger yet, just this deep pain filled night
Questions without answers
A name without a face
**** YOU ...Why?
Lies...how long the lies?
The bedside clock reads 3 o clock...
The hour of great mercy!
Another lie...
midway between 12 and 6....
dark and light...
and another tird day thinking,... wondering
of you and your mistress.
Mar 11, 2010
Mar 11, 2010 at 2:29 PM UTC
The road was shiny slick with glissoning rain as I flew down the highway,
Owl city's voices hymed through the poors of my radio,
"When I'm far too tird to fall asleep" they say,
A car rushes round the corner so I switch my lights to low.
A Buzz or two,
A twinckle light luminates the middle concile,
U coming home baby? We miss you:(
Heh,
I miss u2
A little girl goldest hair you can think of pops into my head,
"Daddy" she says arm streched wide inviting,
"Welcome home, Daddy," the lovliest women you'd ever seen said,
I walk in and the aroma of chiken, mash patatos, and fresh cut bean meet me I'm home in time for supper that's supprizing.
God it's so late,
My headlights chase after the yellow dashed line,
Buzz When you get hom we should go on a d8
22 miles till home says the sign.
Such a long drive,
but to where I'm going it's worth it,
into bed's the first place I'll dive,
all the rain glows like a candle that's lit.
Buzz We can't wait 2c u:)
Reply me 2
I set me phone on the dashboard as I start to round the mountian's sleek edges,
Rain sets the road like ice,
Buzz! I love you;)
In the distance apears yellow wedges,
My breaks are squeaking mice.
Hydroplaning we lose control,
My head bashes gainst the air bag,
driffting away is my soul,
Head hung eyes sag.
Buzz I love you
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC