"tonka" poems
From my first cry
Mother's embrace, father's joyful face
Medicine says its for air
But for me it was for joy
I already knew I was blessed
A place really home
Tonka toys, Christmas joys
Where my heart stayed
And summer lingered
I grew up loved and blessed
Created two measures
Bug and kitten, we're smitten
Depths, heights, tears, joys
Holding on, letting go
Sacred duty, honor and blessing
And 28 years loved
Best friends, make amends
She gets me
I get her
True love, my blessing
There is no equity
My share, is unfair
There's no accounting
For beauty or love
Or all my blessings.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 12:39 AM UTC
Shadows on walls
Voices with no mouths
Faces that don't exist
Yet I can see them clear as day
I want to go out
Party the night away
Get drunk on laughter
Get high on the friendships
But where are they
These fake friends I have
Hallucinations in the night sky
Illusions I conjured up
While playing with Tonka toys
Ripping poor Barbies head off
I need friends
I need people willing to listen
I'm tired of wiping
Tears from the eyes of shadows
I want my tears to flow now
I want real friends
I never will though
Because these shadow knives
Hurt like hell
When plunged deep into my back
Guess it's time to move on
Rid my mind of fake friends
And play with guns and blades
Plunge my own knife
Into the pulsating demon
That lays deep in this echoing cavern
I'm tired of dealing with lies
And fake ******** drama
I need real friends
Willing to carry me through my struggles
Quick to dial 911
When I cut a little too deep
Or when foam starts bubbling at my mouth
Because I didn't mind the warning label
That clearly stated "Don't drink alcoholic beverages with medication"
Fake *** friends
**** them
Hi I'm Robert
Anybody want to be my friend?
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
Their hobby horse carved from wood.
Upon metal frame and bouncy springs.
Kept our boys on the trail of good.
Rounding up outlaws and wild things.
Hot wheel cars and yards of plastic track,
racing from living room to kitchen.
They'd chase after their cars, then run back,
over and over, I should mention...
Tonka trucks and a pile of sand,
under the pear tree in our back yard.
Each one operated by little hands.
To get the boys outside, was never hard.
Forts made from sheets hung on the clothes line,
or in their bedroom if it would rain.
Turned an adventure out of lunchtime,
or "Boys Only" club when the girls came.
Blocks of wood cut different sizes and shapes,
dumped out onto their bedroom floor.
Became odd alien landscapes,
strewn from bunk beds to closet door.
Just an old ratty cardboard box.
Dented pan lid for a steering wheel.
No need for stereo or remote door locks,
as their first car, it was a steal.
So much fun, no batteries needed.
No computer generation.
Active minds cleverly seeded,
by two boys and their imagination.
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 3:26 PM UTC
I am the most miserable amoeba aboard the amoeba train
I am the not so **** she-wolf of the amoeba train
because the amoeba train took me to Vegas and moved on--
I’m now a monkey!
An ugly monkey with blonde hair
and huge **** made of Tonka Trucks
I ******* hate these bananas!
Someone tell these toddlers
to stop playing with my *******
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 8:43 PM UTC
Ignorant; not a care in the world (~)
Holy socks drag on cracked sidewalks
She had a pink shirt,
Or what seemed like it was once pink
She wore a smile & talked to her friend
I never saw him, but I’m sure he’s nice
I swear, her jeans never came with holes,
She’s too young to sport that fashion
Her face was the moon, not the cheesy one,
but pale & distant
Her hair, matted and knotty like dad’s unused
twine ball sitting in his toolbox
Did she have a brother?
Where was he?
I’m sure that unclothed Barbie in her hand needed a Ken
(~)
Reclined with their hands dangling over ashtrays,
where the only entity in their mind calling for their attention
is a liver-punching depressant.
Where eyes open for another hit,
and close to the cries of their children
Tonka trucks make snow angels in ash covered carpets,
Walls inhale secondhand sadness; stained with the tears of neglect,
Unmade beds and unfolded clothes shower their unpaid apartment,
Eviction notices pinned to the fridge with
crayon drawings of “daddy”,
Her request for another beer echoes the empty room
& it crosses her mind
“where the **** is she?”
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
I once asked my little 4 year old cousin,
“What do you want to be when you are older?”
Astronaut, he says.
“Because I want to shoot for the stars.”
If you think about it,
A 4 year old has more of a grasp on life than most of the people around.
To think that 4 year old kids are optimistic because they don’t know how to be pessimistic.
I still can’t believe that one day,
this innocent little boy
will realize the true hell that is reality.
One day we we outside in his yard playing with his tonka trucks.
And the whole time he was saying that he wants to grow up
and use actual trucks.
Drive the big bow dump trucks.
I agreed with him, saying I do too.
But I was thinking to myself,
that I shouldn’t quite tell him to cherish his little years yet.
Let it sink in for a little bit.
His little four year old mind
will soon enough be corrupted by society and judgments.
Some day, he will see how growing up feels.
Having to deal with the prejudice and how mean people are.
Like, back off this is how I live my life.
Not me living your life,
I don’t live to please you.
My life is not your business.
What are you to think something about me when you don’t know the half of it?
If you had a single grasp on how things go,
you would realize judgements are for criminals and their sentences
and not me and how I speak my sentences.
Dear Luke,
I wish that someday things will change.
Dear Luke,
Never change who you are, no matter who tells you.
Dear Luke.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
*We were daytime problem solvers
and late afternoon cops and robbers,
discovering treasure chests
full of gold
with every coin
a story told.
Ignorance was innocence
tooting imaginative instruments.
Our visions were limitless
exploring galaxies
within a fence.
Searching the skies for Orion
Taking orders from Simon
Says reach for the sky
roar as lions, tigers and bears
Oh My!
Scars were cool!
Chocolate milk was fuel
Girls were yuck!
Vacation Barbies lay beneath
tires of Tonka trucks.
Despite being grounded
we soared
Unless grounded
of course.
Street lights mark the landing strip
'Til high noon next day
abandon ship
Crash landing
return to the culdesac
'Good Night' whispers
Fade to black*
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 10:34 PM UTC
I am playing
Nay dug in
Scratching
Young mind you
My sandbox
Eating sand is
Behind me
Bored sandbox time
Digging
Reaching
For prolly
Eleven months
Just excavating
Using all the Tonka tools
No China
No spoons
I find! A
Discarded
******
Mom!
What's this!
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
*Attacking the blaze with a 'Texaco Fire Truck'
Tonka Tractors with plastic Soldiers on guard
Hippie high schoolers heading for home with -
Creedence Clearwater Revival on their car radios
Running through Da Nang with a stick , drinking Tang
with my heroes , adjusting the rabbit ears for Captain
Kangaroo* ...
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 7:05 PM UTC
I remember when I was just a small boy,
Playing with my yellow Tonka toy,
I would pay no attention to all the death in the streets,
I just listened to the comforting sound of my mommas heart beats,
I didn’t care what anyone said to me because I was only a child,
I was always restless, energetic, and wild,
But I was also very sweet, cute, and kind,
The thought of hurting another never came into my mind,
I used to make up the craziest fantasies in my head,
“I always loved hearing your stories” as my mother said,
I would give her two hugs and two kisses every night before I went to bed,
And then she would tuck me in and give me one more kiss on my head,
After she left I would shout goodnight to my sister and my two brothers,
And then I went to sleep with the soothing warmth that was my mothers,
Apr 13, 2010
Apr 13, 2010 at 6:20 PM UTC
Yellow my tonka truck was
never asked i why, because
Big and yellow it rolled
up and over its back would fold
towing lots and lots
merely because
Yellow my tonka truck was
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 3:29 AM UTC
Just the other day I was there,
running, laughing once again with no cares.
I was playing tag around the old pear tree.
I'm the one with Band-aids on my knees.
There's my mom helping grandma tend the yard,
while grandpa's in his hammock, snoring hard.
The journey isn't very far for me
I go home every now and then in my memories.
There's my friend who with secrets I could share.
Oh! The fragrant roses between our yard and theirs.
Whose thorns left me this scar upon my hand.
See my brother, his Tonka trucks in the sand.
On the sidewalk my sister rides her bike.
That's the phone line that always ate our kites.
Going home is not that hard for me,
I go there every now and then in my memories.
Dead Man's Alley was a place we could dare,
each other to go down, if they weren't scared.
The neighbors driveway, we always thought so steep.
It's funny, the mental images we keep.
Our front porch, home to Barbie's and Troll Dolls.
The hours grandma spent sewing outfits for them all.
To visit once again, for me, is so easy,
I go home every now and then in my memories.
The stereo my brother touched so that he could "hear"
the music through the vibrations, the big smile he would wear.
The walks with grandpa to the Rexall Store.
Roller skating round the tiled basement floor.
The hearth with the huge mirror hung above
All the happiness, especially all the love.
Yes, coming home again is a treat for me,
I come here every now and then in my memories.
Jun 15, 2010
Jun 15, 2010 at 5:38 PM UTC
Chapters in dust, olden days don'ts
we done on a whim from a song I never hear, but I think
that song is one
of those lies people pretend is true.
It's the glue, I'll be there,
and love you,
until the twelfth of never and make you feel included,
like you were one of those then,
listening to the cities on the radio,
insisting we don't listen to country,
no KAAA, local gay DJ, easy rock,
no, gimme KOMA fi'ty thousand watts,
rockin' top forty across the plains,
skipped up the staked plain and looped
plumb straight down in a radio metric chaos function,
ley line like, on the most ancient trail we know,
to the navel of the world, it went from there to Chaco,
-- sing any eliyaheyliyah hai hai awatha, tonka go on
you know, it's a cricket solo, such a time, your song
in the dream, you flew, you know you did, and did not fall,
but landed lightly on your feet, not the least bit,
curios as to why now… my feet walked that extra mile,
my time stretched by about that amount, on many given days.
Sep 20, 2023
Sep 20, 2023 at 10:45 PM UTC
These Tonka Beans sort as Forbidden Lick
Chop into Two for its Bright Brown display
To Spice your Flesh; Or Spot your Virtue nick
Else promote the Brioche your Flavour's way
Perhaps instead I'll savour its Perfume
Then bet on my Lassie's Amourous Dance
Till her Corsette twists; Then her Bust resume
With such bloat her Succulent Mounds enhance
Ah! If my Wages fare me much Afford
Would deeply Relieve me of some Hunger
Be it Mouth or Groin; A Value concord
Tear my Desert Robes and Sink me asunder.
Alas! Beaten first by the Sun King's make
Ground into Powder; Then mix into Cake.
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
#
*A small box of candy hearts
were being gifted..
as if being
the most intricate of Tonka Toys.
Small, trembling hands,
reaching out
to a small one,
dirt-encrusted..
There's a half a box
of ******* Jacks:
prize... still intact, in the other.
Two scabs.. and the bite mark of an
alligator lizard,
on just the one that receives.
.
She had walked all the way across
the school's playground
to find him there.
Brought with her a nickel
for helping Mama fold the laundry
down to the 7-Eleven store,
last Saturday morning;
Not any old box of candy, would do.
Not just any old box of candy..
would do.*
#
Feb 14, 2022
Feb 14, 2022 at 9:13 AM UTC
No Tonka, no Barbie,
No Monopoly game.
Just a pack on my back.
The rest have the same.
We start at age three.
Continue 'til death.
I know I'll have work,
As long as I've breath.
Our families need money.
We're the poorest of poor.
All our older brothers,
Are dead from the war.
From sunup to sunrise,
I carry my pack.
I try to walk fast,
Just in case we're attacked.
I'd complain of my plight,
But who would I tell?
All of my friends
Share the same Hell.
I've heard of a place,
Where kids get to play.
I hope from deep down,
I'll see it some day.
But likely as not,
My kids just as I,
Will carry these packs
'Til the day that we die.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
Memories Toy Chest
Something most hold in common is the joy from a child's first toy
Marking time with bounces of a ball or combing a dolls hair, simple samples when life was still fair
Teddy bear on a tricycle towing a red wagon became a daily highlight for freckled faced boy
Sand box unifies the block, Tonka trucks take over, shovel & pail never fail, forming fundamental liaisons, fresh friends unknown to despair
Christmas tree bearing notions, free fodder for the toddler, tiny top fascinating for a tot older sibling needs a little more to not be a bore, each gift reveals internal joy
Crayons and coloring books fill a nook, many images and glimpses of our past, memories now memoirs, all of life's offerings nothing can compare
Focused on fledgling fiascos too more amorous teen things, flash before a crash, skateboard or Schwinn California cruiser either a bruiser when seeking search and destroy
Army men cheap to begin before g.i. Joe or barbies, cap gun for fun, noise for playing on the run, never standing still long enough to stare
Grandmas egg money the best for a stash of cash, bought candy or unknown present I would never resent, she was a kid at heart acting old merely her decoy
Glimpse through a child eyes, thought or flashback of childhood and early life, fishing pole or frisbee a cheap fee for a lifetime memory, simple sample of how we care
Lifes diary often leaves out those trifles that came for free, when we never feared a future unknown, nothing lost when not seen, a minds toy chest held close to the vest the items enclosed permanent parts of our history R.C.
Jan 26, 2022
Jan 26, 2022 at 7:11 AM UTC
I went back
In time to where the place was
Taking up space because
I was wrapped up in my own world
Teddy bears and a fluffy pink snake
Broken action figures
Battle damaged with no legs
Yellow rusted Tonka truck
Saturday morning cartoons
Hiding comic books in my room
Sneaking and reading while everyone slept
Stealing stealthily I quietly crept
Keeper of the secrets
I kept to myself
Shadows via the windows
Shadows in her smile
Danger in her temperament
Demons in her eyes
Snot and tears
Years of fear
But not of violence
The fear of still being here
The Trip is done
And I come back
Come back to myself
Back to the fact that I am strong
Back to the physical present
Where my presence belongs
Back to me away from the shades
Which haunts my memory
The shadows cannot touch me
But they still haunt me
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 8:37 AM UTC
Yellow and boyish
From my construction phase as
A child with big dreams
Dump trucks and cement pourers
With cranes assassinating
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 2:02 PM UTC
Ghosts that have lived and now become just an open window to the past.
I could hear the voices talking to me inside my head
Telling me of things that I didn't notice while I slept in bed
The clock alarms at the same time and lights go on in bathrooms just like in any others house instead
The children are still dreaming of fantasies that the day before the sun was shining and children go where angels fear to tread
I remember the boy next door it must be 35 years or more when we would play together on our patch of land as pirates on ships or soldiers in tanks we drove our Tonka trucks till tea time and our mothers called out and we'd go in to eat our daily bread
I lived in a house above another house which made my house an upstairs flat and I remember a big room with a fire place and couches and a big window that could see all the other houses then eating my tea I would drink some orange pop then it was getting dark and in my bedroom the corridor lead
I would stay up late and watch the woods across the back of our flat as the noise of birds settled down and cats and dogs chased each other and the pillow gently hit me on the head.
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 1:37 AM UTC
(Pre-lude)
(Talking)I see you moving on and it hurts, but I know it's my fault, could've done better... should've tried harder... I'm a better person now ... I love you...and I'm sorry for everything...I never meant to hurt you...
(Verse 1)
Moving real fast we jumped right into it, moving real fast no questions ask, please be mine I'm lonely,
Change myself for you, I'm not perfect but I'll make myself everything you need, just give me a chance I'm begging for your love. Come back to me, come back, where are you, I'm asking myself is this destiny, no I think it's just me, pretty ****** up in the head, please don't yell at me I might just get anxiety, just like variety I might switch up on you, I'm mad, I'm sad and I'm bad.
(Verse 2)
Marching on with bipolar disorder I'mma soilder, tonka tuff, but I get a little overwhelmed when you talk to me, dunno what to say I freeze, got told to just be me, But all I see, is everything I will never be, anxiety, ******* with my mc when I step on the mic, I try to spit it, but ocd making me go craz-y gotta rhyme every single ******* line, gotta say everything on time otherwise noones gonna like it, it's gotta have the flow, gotta sound hella dope.
(Verse 3)
Being in love with you is kinda bad for my health, I hide my feelings cause I don't wanna talk about it undercover stealth...
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 10:45 PM UTC