"wacker" poems
His Down's Syndrome makes
His age a tough guess, I'll
Say eight to ten.
Wide eyes on machines,
Ice cream dripping on the
Pavement outside the
Construction site.
*I wanna work like this when
I grow up,* he says in
Young enthusiasm to a mother
Whose eyes well up with
Gratitude when I approach
And kneel down in front of
Him. *So you want a job,
Buddy?* I ask him with a
Wink. He suddenly remembers
His ice cream and bites into
It shyly. Nods, glancing at the
Tools in my belt, the scratches
On my arms, the brick wall
I've been attacking with a
Wacker jackhammer. Nods
Again. *Well, I'll see you in a
Few years,* I say with another
Wink, this time to his mother,
Who'd look her young age if
Her eyes weren't as tired,
*But you can start with this
And get some practice.* I hand
Him my Stanley Fat Max
Hammer. His ice cream
Hits the ground as he
Recieves it with both hands,
Looking to his mother for
Confirmation that it's ok.
Oh, it is. She mouths a
Thank you SO much...
They walk away, his chatter
High pitched and fading
Around the corner. And I
Head over to the foreman to
Report that I lost my hammer.
Don't ever employ me.
I can work a good game, but
I'm too soft around little heroes.
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 5:53 AM UTC
homeland security
on these nuts
home land security
in your butts
home land security
look but don't touch
it's too much
for 'em to understand
***** jacker
**** in hand
hatin' big wacker
on tha attacker
i like 'em blacker
she's a ***** packer
don't like 'em battered
spell bound brain washed
what's tha matter?
Homeland Security Act
homeland security
tryin' ta scare
why can't tha government care?
socialist ideals
not tryin' to hear
hippie gal tryin' ta spread peace
until the cognizance cease
down with tha ****
come in your hair
tryin' ta do me long
they can't take it down
ya know they messin' around
neo-con trick
tryin' ta make brunette sick
don't they like the way i hold my ****
maybe i wanna take a lick
lyin' bitchin' wichin' cryin'
like a man's supposed to be dyin'
look at 'em fryin'.
sorcery zap to the court-ordered goofs
snitchin'
doin' bad things
mad federal schemes
they all occultic fiends
with yo mama church
as the ball swings
** **** on me
mother **** the holy see
what ya tryin' to be
....holy?
goons, screws, pigs and spooks
sayin cognizance aint to use
poor court ordered goofs so-abused
papists vowed in their delusions of grandeur
all you supposed ta think
...is white cop
expendable masses they say aint allowed ta know
while they call the pope pop
guardian protectors of tha white bred
they wanna make tha people brain dead
feds frivolous threats
tha number on your badge says zero
what you tryin' to be?
A super hero?
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:52 PM UTC
Hey, Grass. What's your point?
No sheep, no cows, no dog.
I hate You, venomously
grow it
cut It
repeat, ad infinitum.
until the mower breaks
because it does, every year
even the **** Sears
fix it,
break it
grow it
cut it,
**** it.
Hurry, Autumn
**** wacker
useless piece of ****
buy it
pawn it
grow it
cut it
**** it.
Blacktop,
the whole yard
teach your punk ***
Grass.
Aug 1, 2011
Aug 1, 2011 at 11:28 AM UTC
Paul Bunyan is up and at 'em
with his trusty **** wacker, slicing
through to the other side
of suburban nightmare. Zeus,
in barreling breath, holds low
his mighty leaf blower.
An American hero and Greek god,
hell bent on getting what's
greener on the other side, begin their
Battle of the Lusher Lawn.
Paul's Babe, in her royal blueness,
is star-studded and singing, "Glory Glory"
as she banners the front porch
in red and white stripes. Zeus' sister-bride
Hera, turns a goat on spit, thinking,
"these Americans know nothing about
good barbeque." Later, the two will be
promising recipes over the side fence
of their baba ganoush and ambrosia salad.
The boys will be reminiscing Gallipoli,
slapping each others' backs,
and choking back tears.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 6:15 AM UTC
Oh the things that we could do
If only youd give me an item or two.
Start out slow then jump the speed,
When i cut them up with a wacker thats made fir weeds
Oh the things that we would feel,
From the beating if hands to the stomp of our heels
Tonight we dine in hell, we must,
For that is what for our blood lusts
We are one and we are two,
But you dont understand the gravity do you?
This is not Vergil im telling you now,
My real name is Noah, you know my real name now
See now is the time that it really gets scary,
Cause its only the real one stop your comparing
Weve planned it for years i planned on my parents,
But i guess i never had the ***** it just comes with habit
But the other disagreed said he only wanted the girls,
But the one you seem most, his blood began to curddle
Ive been homicidal, suicidal since year 6,
I smoked, cut, and now tried **** just for a fix
Writings my passion though thats much is true,
Done with my ditty, sorry if i bothered any of you
Wanna cut? thats wrong, trust me i would know,
Almost lost to much to live one year in the snow
Of course it wasnt me but someone else,
I wont go to that story cause youll be sad in yourselves
The last time a cop taught a class i was in, he asked along the lines if "anyone pointed a knife at you?" Hmmm?
Ive had it a few times, one time too close,
Not all of scars on my body are self inflicted yaknow,
Nope not that time you see,
Someone else held the blade and dragged it over me
Thats the time they took my virginity again by force,
But that was only time 1 before,
Was it assisted suicide you ask?
I was too scared to ask for help in the past,
No not assisted i tell you that for sure,
Cause im a survival of teenage torture
Survivor not survival, i jumble my words,
But now you see why my fists are now curled,
Ah alas ive nothing to say,
Ive no more to tell, at least no more today
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
I saw a cresting sunrise through the corridors of steel
Was it 5 a.m. already?
A convalescence of clouds, ruby tint, and gold trim
At the corner of Columbus and Wacker I took a stumbling left
Where is all the traffic?
Two hundred yards ahead, and the road....
Stops
Despite sleepless nights of sketching
somehow, a road escaped reason
In the heart of the midwest
this grand testament to urban planning
couldn't help but make one mistake
I stood at the edge
lording over the land
and with ***** stained breath
I declared myself king!
The sun lent me her crown
The city exhaled it's approval
And I saw my first sunrise
At The End of Wacker Drive
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 6:25 PM UTC
I'm a knuckle *******
Know when to shut my mouth lacker
Wish I had a ***** packer
Love me a butt-smacker
Driving range golf ball wacker
Right of the little guy backer
Skin like a saltine *******
The Mack daddy mack of macker
And a surprise pinch-hitter X factor
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 2:03 AM UTC