"whacked" poems
"I can’t figure it out.” She said.
“I like cigars,
and pretty dresses and crossing my legs.”
She paused,
then continued,
“And I like smoking cigars in pretty dresses while crossing my legs.”
She uncrossed them,
then crossed them again.
One smooth limb over the other.
Just like that.
“But I never seem to have a lighter on hand.
Could you— sir,
please light my cigar?”
“You see, I have no pockets to hold such things and my purse…
Well,
You’ve confiscated that, haven’t you?”
“Thanks.” She breathed,
and inhaled,
and exhaled;
Sluggish wisps of smoke dissipating into the air.
Just. like .that.
“I didn’t know L'homme was into women who smoke cigars in pretty dresses while crossing their legs", She said.
“I mean, how was I to know?
I only noticed him noticing me.
It was probably the way my hair was tousled like so,
Or how my lipstick shone a deep, dangerous rogue,
Or the way I sipped at my champagne…
That made him walk over.”
“But I never asked him to light my cigar
Or comment on my dress…
Or stroke my legs.
So when I whacked him up top over the head with my glass,
I bet he never expected it to shatter and split his skull like so.
He dropped so sudden, sir. I…”
Another ringlet of smoke, a sigh, an uncrossing and crossing of legs again.
“I had no clue,
what else to do,
But to sit still in my pretty dress, with my legs crossed, smoking my cigar trying to figure out...
Just how I'd committed ******
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 5:10 PM UTC
We enter the church and immediately
have to push through two dozen sobbing Italian women
dabbing dry eyes; their tissues only show
black and multi-colored smears. Amid the echoing
“Oh my Goawd”s, they lean down and kiss my sister’s cheeks,
but even in my best black cap sleeves, I am the taboo
to my cousin Janet, a woman as barren as the stone lot
in between her husband’s restaurant and Deihl’s Autoshop.
We find an empty pew, and watch as the men
stride down the aisle, contestants
in a cultural Miss America pageant where the wrong answer
gets you whacked. Their heavy brows
sink in condolence as they hand over stacks of bills,
every hundred becoming a pity penny
for all the moments Janet lost in her luxury-life
made shiny by diamonds and cars and fur coats
which can’t be cashed in for a second chance at a family.
The men have paid for the food, the china, the band
in the corner meant to fill the space of sadness—
a reminder that we live a lavish life.
My sister shifts in her seat and as a man walks
by she touches his jacket, and gasps.
He’s a god.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
She don't like her eggs all runny
she thinks crossin' her legs is funny
she looks down her nose at money
She gets it on like the Easter bunny
she's my baby
I'm her honey
Never Gonna Let Her Go
He ain't got laid in a
Month of Sundays
I caught him once
and he was sniffin' my ******
he ain't too sharp but he gets things done drinks beer like it's oxygen
and he's my baby
I'm his honey
Never gonna let him go
In Spite of Ourselves
we'll end up sitting on a rainbow
Against All Odds
honey were the big door prize
We're going to spite our noses
right off of our faces
there won't be nothin'
but a big ol' Hearts
dancin' in our eyes
she thinks all my jokes are corny
convict movies make her *****
she likes ketchup with her scrambled eggs swears like a sailor when
she shaves her legs
she takes a lickin'
she keeps on tickin'
I'm never going to let her go
He's got more ***** than
A Big Brass Monkey
he's a whacked-out ******
and a love bug ******
Sly as a fox
crazy as a loon
when payday comes
he's howlin' at the moon
he is my baby
and I don't mean maybe
I'm never going to let him go
In Spite of Ourselves
we'll end up sittin' on a rainbow
Against All Odds
honey were the big door prize
we're going to spite our noses
right off of our faces
there won't be nothing
but big ol' Hearts
dancin' in our eyes
In Spite of Ourselves
Written by John Prime
Cherie Nolan- A favorite wedding tune
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC
I was in trouble
And oh boy did I know it
I came home drunk last night
the hangover showed it
As I crawled out of bed, headache splitting my eyes
I saw my wife with that "I love you but I'm going to **** you" vibe,
but she held it in and on her face a look of concern was her guise
I hurled for about an hour
then my stomach settled down
I looked for my wife
but she was nowhere to be found
I drank some water, and soon after hit the floor
before I slipped into unconsciousness
I saw my wife come through the door
I woke up, and took in my surroundings
I was in a dark , medium sized room
caged in, and the floor was concrete..
And in walked my wife, with a crop and a corset on that hourglass body, she looked ready for a pounding
I wondered.. what the hell was going on?
how did she know I wanted to try this...
when did I let it on?
She walked into the room, I was tied to the bed,
but before whacking me, she surveyed me instead
She walked slowly around me
My eyes drinking in her features,
She whacked me in my chest and said
Look here boy, I'm going to tease you
She slid the corset down, showing one ****** off,
I was now hard where I once was soft
She licked herself slowly
Me getting aroused all the more
I knew my wife was the experimental type
but even she didn't know what was in store
She slid those ******* down
My God she was so wet
She slid her finger inside and said
"Nope, you can't have this yet"
I shook with anticipation. Pleading with her through my eyes
She remained adamant and continued weaving an arousing web, all truth here, I can't tell any lies.
She slid my pants off my legs
And threw them to the floor
She got on top of me and yelled
today you're my personal manwhore!
with that I found myself inside,
bouncing on my cxck
I had never seen her this aggressive
it came off as quite a shock
After an hour and hundreds of welts later
it Appeared she was done with me
that's when she layed next to me and whispered
"Happy Anniversary"!
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
In this fRaGmEnTeD cage,I hear checkpoint moans;
anticipating our prone-positioned
brothers and sisters held
Prone positions against walls
Prone positions against fences
Prone positions against vehicles
Prone positions against buildings
Prone positions against prone positions
Slam-whacked, bloodied, occupied
like our great nation; like our souls
I remember a prophet's call, " love your neighbor
as yourself "
I hear Palestine weeping from Jenin
to Hebron, from Jerico to Gaza seized
I hear lamentations about blood tales
I see only FrAgMeNtS of our land
I see FrAgMeNtS of our proud people
Lo and behold my Palestine quakes as an earth quake
Doves scatter skyward as a prophetic omen
Blue skies and Sun momentarily claim victory
Then inhumanity's ugly face:
America to its Indians, America to its blacks,
America to women, America to its gays,
America to Mexicans,
America to South and Central America,
America once to Southeast Asia,
America to Islam, America with its war crimes,
America and Israel both innocence died
So, we pray Koran's verses upon our prayer rugs
We gesture all hope
The apartheid surrounds us
The dead talk to us
The smoke surrounds us
Perhaps better days we say
Entwined with bizarre everydayness
we accept sleep with fits
Fits without food;
Fits without crucial welfare
Roads, shelters, mock us
sculptured by missiles and bulldozers
Bully-bombs exploding in a reign of terror
We pray upon our prayer rugs
Bully-bombs exploding in a reign terror
And oooh how those awful missile FrAgMeNtS fly
and Muhammad cries with anguished tears, in this writtened
legacy...in written legacy
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 5:21 AM UTC
those sounds you make
with air and your voice box,
they're all made for me.
the words...that's what you call them.
when you pen down these words for me,
you're knitting my clothes:
black thread
embroidered on white.
always the same always so different.
that's how everyone gets to know me:
with your name, (always) the right fit
like a shoe that goes with every dress
I am the soul of all your creations
that part of your soul
that resides in white
I am all that energy that has bled from you
I am your soul - your soul is in me
I dwell in the blood that sweats through your pores.
I am the thrum of havoc in your veins.
I am the reason your heart beats.
it beats to my name.
you're mine.
you will never forget me.
I am your arrogance
I am the reason butterflies flutter
I am truth, I am redemption
I am lies and smiles
and that story you ache to write...
I am alive in the human touch
that keeps you hurting healing bleeding
tumbling in pain agony hate
through the impossibilities of your humanity.
I give you strength warmth courage tolerance
to go on,
to keep on living
and to keep me alive...
I draw life
from that
weird goofy and frankly whacked out part
of your mind
that thinks
I can talk to you
like
at
this
very
moment...
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
I was walking my big Ridgeback Mr. Brown
across the Starbucks parking lot
when this little white poodle started yapping
from the rolled-down window of a brand new Mercedes.
Mr. Brown responded like shot from guns
and before I knew it
he was scratching at the Mercedes door
eager to make friends with the poodle.
Then the Mercedes owner came running out of Starbucks
spilling latte all over his substantial stomach
What the ****
Look at those ******* scratches!
Do you know how much it costs
to fix a car like this?
I’m suing you and your big ******* dog !
Not wise, sir, I responded…
to be so aggressive with someone you don’t even know
and who has a 110-lb. African Lionhound
on the end of his leash.
I might be a whacked-out Vietnam veteran
with a hairtrigger temper
or a gang member
or maybe I'm just a senior citizen
with an extremely protective service dog.
Well, he said, his belly shaking,
look at my **** car.
I am looking at it I said
and handed him the keys to my ’68 Shelby Cobra
parked and shiny right nearby.
Take mine, I said
it’s more fun to drive.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 5:56 AM UTC
I whacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose
Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve
Santa had to cut him off the lead pack
Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve
I know a lot of eve's and some get naked
But, I got drunk somehow after shopping and banking
Now I don't need no how on keep waking up wasted
I shot him in his brain and sliced his neck
I wacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose
Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve
Santa had to cut him off the lead pack
Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve
Now it's Christmas Day, I have him here
He's hung in my backyard. Oh, what a deer!
Today's a holiday. We'll serve what's near.
And Rudolph's venison will bring on cheer
I whacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose
Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve
Santa had to cut him off the lead pack
Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve
I'm slicing jerkey
I'm slicing meat
I'm cutting steaks
I'm slicing lean
I cut his brains out
Threw them away
His guts and his *****
Have been turned into hay
I whacked Rudolph, that showoff with the bright nose
Wakin' me up all night on Christmas Eve
Santa had to cut him off the lead pack
Just to make his rounds on Christmas Eve
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
prey tracked
relentlessly pursued
mass of zebra
whacked
pulverized
to the ground
powerful jaws of lion
employed
in the gruesome ****
throat of prey
exposed
oozing scarlet ****
lion consumes
a bloating portion
for himself
deference shown to lion
an uninvited hyena
joins in
snarls and snappy retorts
go between the two
hyena knows
the borders
at nature's table
with
lion king
both delight
in the zebra's
ample flesh
and its sweet
warm entrails
they savor
every morsel
above in stark
glared filled skies
anticipating crows
circle
frenzy intense
hungering craw
needing
needing
squawking
to announce
arrival
descending in unison
blanketing the zebra's carcass
beaks tearing
the meager scraps
from the bones
welcome
sustenance
at natures
all too sparse table
each creature know its place
crow has a place reserved
scavenger on the rim
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 9:16 PM UTC
It was late into the night
When Bert Ernie and I
Were traveling across the plans of Nebraska
Much to my surprise
Bert looks me straight in the eyes
And says Mike, I gotta question to ask ya
With Big Bird wrapped up in the trunk
You'd think that he'd already thunk
About this night long before it already happened
When we took Oscar the Grouches can lid
And whacked Big Bird smack dab in the head
Then tied him up tight while he was napping
We rolled him out to curb
Believe me it looked quite absurd
Ernie grunting with Bert complaining as feathers went flying
But as would be our fate
Able to make our planed escape
When Count Von Count took time out to do some feather counting
So this is now where we are
Bert, Ernie, Me, and Big Bird in the trunk of our car
Not really knowing where it is we are heading
Our thinking went only as far
As nabbing Big Bird and the get away car
Putting Ernie in charge wasn't such a good idea is what I am betting
Ernie says he's figured it all out
Bert says we need this, but still has his doubts
Cause Bert owes back pay alimony and Ernie his ******
We head to Ernie's planed drop off spot
And of course it's swarming with cops
While our inside man " The Monster " gave us up for Cookies
They let Big Bird out of the trunk
Who proceeded to slap us punch drunk
Then straight to the judge to pay for this hideous crime
I can't think of any worse fate
I now know this was a fatal mistake
The sentence...
Banished to Sesame Street for life, now that is hard time
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 7:41 PM UTC
7:30PM, October 9, 2015, 65*F, 10mph breeze, 5% humidity (somehow 10% where I was sitting), 50.0001% chance of rain, dark, cold, late, loud...I think that's enough. Alright! Spoiler alert, Birkston High won the game. If you simply have ears you've known that for a while (many of us who were at the game don't). All the people in Grenfolkshire were there, so there were some empty bleachers, but the Student section was full and lively, and did I say loud, because LOUD....! My ears were ringing (at a B8 note, for the musically overcurious people) for three days straight. I think it was a healthcare tactic, dare I say it. All those figurehead townspeople were there as well, like Mayor Arnofold Plattersbury with his orange jumpsuit, waving a pompom in the air like he just didn't care. Really, he didn't-I got whacked in the head with it eleven times. Recently, after taking a recent poll on the recent event, it was found that only about 35% of people really knew what happened, a number that has declined, recently. This very well is contributed to 1.) most of the people are there for the free food and don't exactly major in football 2.) teenagers are highly social creatures 3.) a bunch of hands in the air and six foot tall mammoths standing on the bleachers will tend to block the view of the people who are five foot small. The freshmen had a real problem on their heads. Nevertheless, the Wildcats found themselves with the bell for another year, whether they knew it or not. The Panthers found themselves nose-in-the-dirt, tail-dragging, while we found ourselves filing out like a herd of wild penguins onto the field.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 10:34 PM UTC
When the salt chuck was mine
I promised to dance as the ocean waves on the smiles you grant
For the sea I was a trap of destiny
To the sand I was too slippery to stamp
I embraced the wind bearing the taste of brine
I rendered a pledge from your bright eyes into the sea’s chant
Every edge of this tedious isle
You were the unending aria
At dawn, you would passionately rip the queen conch
The hush of the gale would turn into wail
The sun would set as the shore would reflect
Your voice a ditty, a glassy reverie
When the hurricane arrived
You were carried away by fright
A zephyr into a whirlwind
Drawing abyssal rumpus into ordeal
I tried to hold your hand tight
But you whispered “this is what it’s supposed to be”
You carved the salt into your skin- a sight of crystalline art
And breathed “i found a better shore than your stormy coast”
It was only a sojourn you said
So you left my briny, dull and murky
The salt chuck was a wreck
The queen conch was whacked
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 11:28 PM UTC
you cannot wish love into existence (or how it came to be)
came and was asked,
make us a star.
smiled and whispered to the
mother night belly black and
and their star,
unequivocal was given
came and was asked, for a cooling fooling breeze.
smiled and whispered to the clouds,
rush past us faster and shed us thy ease
and so refreshed,
gave up hands high grace salutes
came and was asked, why be alone,
whisper for her
to love you
smiled and whispered
this I cannot
nor would I want to do
came and was asked,
why be alone,
whisper for you
to love her
smiled and whispered
this I cannot
nor would I want to do
whisper what you will
but love
is a wondering and a wonderment eternal
a perpetuity of never knowing,
perfect surety is not love
it is a why without an answer,
a question's question imperfection
why you love today,
maybe a continent different
why you used to, or first to,
and tomorrow's raison d'être
as yet undreamt, unrealized,
you can whisper many things into being,
but beings in love are motions special,
and entitled to a category special
admixture of reason and lust,
hunger and thirst,
needy to be needed
needy to be giving,
the balance whacked,
constant change its formulae
called vagaries, chemical imbalances,
e-motions
should I whisper,
call out for love,
making it so,
there would be no why,
without the why,
what worth this be
so when you do whisper
I love you,
admit it is a question
and an answer simultaneous,
it is a whisper of certain uncertainty
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Santa came down the chimmney
I whacked him with my uzzi
Santa dropped his sack
It was filled with crack -
Now Santa he's in rehab
Grateful he's not dead
Sitting there waiting
For detox
To
Clear his head.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
(Inspired by Kendrick Lamar – humble )
Whacked or weepiness?
Sing if you know this,
Well~ yuh, yuh.
Hey, I recall when every months with zero-balance-curse,
Therefore I lived my life with what I fit, but today I’m so ******
When everyone gets what their want; In fact, I never wish,
I choose drink mix while you choose Crème de cassis to rid live’s blemish,
"Son, the richest man never get outta debt hub,
Duh, compare to you with just one luckless credit card?"
So let’s be rich with heart and do something bigger than Tesla,
Do read on my blog, then write it down or by heart at least,
Zero-to-the-hero, hero-to-the-pro punk,
a person who used to be dumb, dumped in the **** junk,
now 6 figures in the bank, I'm still like yesterday’s punk,
If you got this in the bank, promise to be like an old punk,
my life’s better than my virile,
my future promise me how I rolled,
Hey Mount. E, wait for me to reach your highest spot,
but I’m just play cool to it, cuz you know
Beast’s humble,
Sweet lown,
Be hierodule,
throw your crown.
Who talk money over passion won't be richman,
The dream you ever sketched, belongs to trash can,
The dream you never twig, just a goodnight,
Just do for what you love for your loved wife,
Just what you said you do it to get a better job,
Say something to me you'll be iron man like louis cyr or,
Say something like you are immune from all snide remarks,
Everyday you and I should celebrate the 'go for broke day',
I'll 'Die trying till get there',
Pave the way for success stair,
everything's gonna be okay,
God not just hear from your prayer,
He bestow for what you care,
So stay calm and feel the air,
Dont called it work - called it play,
And say "Never say ne'er",
Hardwork means modest, stay low profile, and rich heart way,
Mamma said dream big, protect it from apart, stay,
Be like the strongest humblest person in the world, OK?
I'm the strongest orphan after all, boom! beast's humble, --
-- Sweet Lown,
Snob's crumble,
Don't drown.
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC
Niblicks
What do I know about golf?
Well,
let me see.
I know there's a club and
I think there you get tee
There's a hole with a pole
Though not from Poland, it could be.
That's commerce
There's something worse
and that's a bunker
where apparently golfers hunker
down with a frown on their face, 'til
they get out of that place.
There's a five on the fifth and a three on the first
I've read the rules and I'm fit to burst with a thirst for the game
But then I read of their *****
and call me a ****
don't think that I need
my ***** to be whacked.
So it's back to the cluedo and ludo and do you know
I'm not sorry at all.
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 1:55 PM UTC
We called our maths master *** happy Chappie, Mr Chapman stank to high heaven like an ash tray and smoked like a chimney even while taking class.
We called the English teacher Jesus because he was young, bearded and wore a white suit. One of the lads flicked ink all down his back one day without him noticing as he walked up and down between the desks.
Another English teacher took it on himself to teach *** education. He advised us not to ********** the night before an exam. He doubled up as a career adviser and told everyone to go into banking or insurance.
The history master liked to nod off in lessons when he was supposed to be teaching us and we had to stay completely silent. If anyone made a noise he would yell at us, and he would sometimes hit us with a tennis shoe with a golf ball jammed in it. He wrote Stoke City for the cup in chalk mirror writing on the sole so that it would come out on our backsides when he whacked us.
The first headmaster was nice, we liked him, he was human. But then *** took over. He tightened up the rules about school uniform, no coloured shirts, things like that, but wore luminous green socks himself, the silly ******* He gave me the slipper for sciving off an afternoon once, I hated him. I think if I'd had a gun I might have shot him. Someone said they think he's dead now, and I thought good, I hope he died in agony ha ha.
Then there was Mr Eaton, another English master. He was one of those truly inspiring teachers whose enthusiasm for his subject was infectious.
On the day he introduced us to Chaucer's 'The Prologue ' he gave us the text and proceeded to recite from memory the whole thing. I never forgot that.
It was a mixed experience, Grammar School in the 1970's.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 10:45 PM UTC
So I'm drinking the red wine
I had those cut-up peaches
Soaking, fermenting in for 3 days.
A nice summer evening buzz,
Just back from my evening walk
Within the gates of my over-55
Lunatic Asylum.
On my rear porch in Hemetucky,
I chaise lounge the hours,
Listening to the mourning dove
Nesting in the bottlebrush bush.
I know she's there, having
Fired thru my duck blind,
My latest weapon of choice,
My new-fangled Flex Hose,
It expands when turned on.
Which got me thinking that the
Flex Hose inventor guy must have
Whacked off a lot as a teenager.
An Alex Portnoy protege, perhaps,
If familiar with Roth's book.
Portnoy's Complaint:
Most of us read it;
Some of us lived it.
It is pointless to speculate.
12 ft. Flexible Water Hose with
Nozzle-flxh-25 (4-00268...Home Depot
www.homedepot.com/p/12-ft-Flexible...
Hose-with.../204818892/The Home Depot
Rating: 1.8 - 14 reviews - $19.97 - In stock
"The Flexible hose automatically expands with water flow and contracts back to its original shape for storage. Lightweight and durable. The Flexible Hose will ..."
(That's right, a commercial right in the
Middle of the ******* poem.
This Poet refusing to die in the gutter,
Having finally figured out how to
MAKE POETRY PAY.)
But I digress.
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 2:16 AM UTC
The Rubber Bunny flew through the air
The Rubber Bunny gave me a scare
So I punched it in the face
It turned around and sprayed me with mace
I lay on the ground quivering with pain
The Rubber Bunny must be insane
I got up and ran
And Man oh Man!
That rabbit ran as fast as he can
The rabbit got tired and that slowed his run
I was about to grab him when he pulled out a gun
I got the gun out of his hand and my hand on his neck
He pulled a knife, I said 'what the heck!'
That rabbit was armed
And I was alarmed
He ran back to his hole in the ground
I was mugged I found
I didn't have my wallet
And when I looked inside his home, I saw it
I reached down into the ground
It was my wallet that I found
All of the sudden a sharpening pain
From the teeth of that rabbit so insane
I pulled my hand out with the rabbit too
I tried to think what to do
Once again I whacked him in the face
This time he did not turn with mace,
But with a grenade
Before I could stop him he yelled ?raid!?
Millions of bunnies came into sight,
I thought to use all my might
But they had overwhelming power
I thought I’d be dead within the hour
Grenades, mace, guns, knives
These bunnies will destroy many lives
Before I reached the edge of pain,
I realized why they were so insane
It turned out to be something funny
All they wanted was my money
The bunnies were about to attack
I had a stick and I gave it a whack
Blood squirted and I heard a scream
I thought I wiped out the entire team
But just when I thought I won the war
There was another, and more, and more
At about that time I had lost a thumb
A finger or two, or maybe some
I saw a rabbit go by with my toe
I think it was the rubber bunny but I’ll never know
And then with his teeth he pulled it apart
And all of the sudden he struck for my heart
At about that time the police showed
And now on my chest a stitch is sewed
And now I warn you to look out
He’s still in America without a doubt.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 6:46 AM UTC
Way out in its own oasis
Its very own brand of homeostasis
Passed the jarred ideas and whacked out mazes
Is a spot
Full of unknown faces
Hailing from unknown places
Look at it, fall out with out protracted traces
Vacant lot
Then let's settle the score
What is your original face before your mom and dad were born?
Why not start over with a clean slate, as the smell of new dawns pervade
I forgot to eat
Maybe if you gave the derelict half a chance
And looked at things from the ambivert's stance
People wouldn't notice your ego's protuberance
Upstaged by an under study
Pull the button, turn the lever, push the switch and flip the ****
Predicate the incendiary infraction
Reductio ad absurdum
Lip service provides scrutiny
We've been normalized, what the recipe for ice?
We're full of emptiness, nothing exists
No-thing, not a thing does not exist
Life is deathless
I'm looking for multifaceted individuals
To fix something that's irreparable
An eerie parable, something terrible
My future's told by flash cards
I put my head between my knees
Just wipe my memory
Leave me at the bottom of the sea
Leave my dignity to discard
When two separate divisions are over lapping
What's the sound of one hand clapping?
Comparing then and now every now and then
Again, never will I say"never again"
-Tommy Johnson
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 3:20 AM UTC
Here comes this serial killer looking creep
Thinking he's here for just a little peep
He just a little whacked out manic
Energy spurts come in an inconsistent panic
But I promise I'm an all right dude
Even though I act a little rude, but crude
I'm the leader who takes apart machines
Been my own man since I was fourteen
He's the maniac creator
Makes all the world his theater
In his head lives every world
Swirling around in a surrealist twirl
He's a trash picking racoon
Looking like a tin foil hat loon
Now here I go making another promise
I'm a monstrosity Frankenstein colossus
I build dreams out of your waste
Assembling beauty with a fever pitch haste
Don't ever doubt what I say
Even if it sounds preposterous and risque
I make some of the weirdest things
Meant to illicit grins from my deepest sins
Mar 27, 2022
Mar 27, 2022 at 9:01 PM UTC
Now Smithy was as angry as poo
He said Mickey, "Oi, Listen, must you!
Come here for a meeting
It'll be only fleeting
But be there by a quarter to two."
As loud as he dared
With nostrils all flared
Smith ranted and raved
Like he was depraved
No wonder Mickey was scared
He began with a deep fierce roar
And huffed like a bear that was sore
"It's not easy to say
I can't stand things this way
I can't take it like this any more."
Smith blew his red nose on his sleeve
Then said "You must take now your leave
You've driven me crazy
No, I'm not being lazy
I need some more me-time to grieve."
"I know that our feelings were strong
I am sorry that you must now be gone
I'll always love you
You held my hand in the loo
It's not that you did anything wrong."
Now who should replace him within?
Our choices are looking too thin.
I do know a man...
This could be a plan...
A Zimbabwean that has a big chin.
Now the panel has been sacked
The whole system looks cracked
Who is next their line?
Graeme Smith would be fine..
The captain has not yet been whacked.
But what more can we say?
Madness now leads the way.
Since Onions' not out
South Africa have doubt
'bout all that's 'tween night and the day.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 10:47 PM UTC
Up pops the blue hat out of his hole
Bop goes the bopper on in the game called
Whack a mole.
Its a teasing game. And a game of chance
If you stand out from
The group and pack.
Chances are you are gonna get whacked.
But that is the price that one must pay
If you plan to succeeed and go on your way.
Standing pat or sitting still can work at times
And keep one safe.
Standing your ground is sound stratigy.
But what works fory ou may not work for me.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 9:54 PM UTC
Enid's old man
gives me the stare
as we pass
on the stair
I know he's
whacked her
for sure
after the cinema date
and coming back late
but he says nothing
his the silent glare
as if he could scare
I walk on up
and he goes down
that cocky way
he has of
walking away
that Bogart stare
to my Elvis smile
at least for a while
I look down at him
from the balcony
as he crosses
the Square
and off out
of sight to
work or play
as any other day
I wait to be sure
he won't return
then go to Enid's door
and knock and wait
no one comes
all is quiet
no answer
to my knock
so I knock again
and her mother comes
and pokes her head
around the door
and says
what do you want?
how's Enid?
I ask
best go
or her father'll know
and give us
both another blow
I stand my ground
and give her a stare
where is she?
is she ok?
her mother sports
a blackened eye
he might return
she says
he's gone
I watched him go
I say
she sighs
and calls
ENID
and walks past me
to the balcony
and looks over
Enid comes to the door
red eyed
and a swollen lip
can you come out
and play?
I ask
her mother
walks back
to the door
and says
not today
now go away
I lean towards Enid
and kiss her cheek
and touch her hand
see you around Kid
I say
then her mother
closes the door
and reluctantly
I go away.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 2:36 PM UTC