"yessir" poems
I wrote a poem recently.
Not so much a poem,
more like a story;
a story of love,
kind of like a love story.
Sure,
it was the best love story
we've never read.
There were romances,
struggles,
some revelations
and resurrections...
even a few bruised egos.
Blah,
blah.
Yessir,
a bayside view of
false paradise
if I'd ever seen one;
some dogeared page
ripped out of a
journal written in ink
and found in the gutter.
No beginning or end.
Just a thought.
A memoir
of a fantasy that should've just
been
and never had to explain itself.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 11:24 PM UTC
My sister karen was a manhater
she hated all men
deliriously
she would sit on the top
of the bunkbed she shared with sue
and with one finger curl her hair
then pull it out by the roots
it was quite disturbing
she would spend hours
every saturday doing this
until she had almost no hair left
the family worried for her
During the week when I would
come home from school (I think
I was around 7 or 8) karen (being
older and bigger) would run up to me
kick me in the gut
push me to the floor
jump on top of me
grab me by the ears
and pound my head
on the floor until
my brains fell out
this went on for several weeks
until I told my parents and
they finally put an end to it
One night sue didn't want to get caught
eating an apple in bed
so she put the core in the toilet
and it clogged it
we (all four of us)
were awakened in the middle of the night
and had to line up so my mother
could beat us with a belt
until someone confessed
I was tired so I said okay
I did it
I got a good belting that night
I was suspended from school
for a week because the teacher
complained that the welts on my back
were bleeding so profusely that
lt was interrupting the learning process
of the other children
One day I was coming home from school
and I got caught in a hailstorm
I got pelted really good
Lucky for me Mr. Doty was home for lunch
so I took cover under
his light blue ford f-series pick-up truck
hail as big as golf *****
some the size of baseballs
continued to rain down
I don't know for how long
because I fell asleep
"What were you doing under there?"
he questioned as he was shaking my arm
awakening me
(I quess he thought I was messing around
or something)
I came to and stated
"THE GOLF ***** WERE FALLING
I NEEDED A PLACE TO HIDE"
"oh" he said
"you mean to tell me you were in THAT?"
"yessir" I replied
"well, your schoolday's almost over,
maybe you should go home and rest"
"yessir"
And I went home and rested
When karen turned eighteen
she married a wife beater
for nearly ten years he would
ugly 'er up
finally she couldn't take anymore
and divorced him
But she was only following tradition
my grandpa beat his wife
my father beat his wife
and al beat karen
Yep, those three knew
how to really take a beating
But, not from a hailstorm
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
a harelipped man walked into a liquor store and walked up to the proprietor and said gimme a bottle of gin.
and the proprietor said to himself "why THIS dumb son of a ***** I'll have some fun with him!"
He said "What kind would you like?"
"You mean theres more than one kind?"
"Yessir theres 3"
"What are they?"
"Hydrogen, Oxygen and Nitrogen"
"Thats right" Said the harelip.
and theres three kinds of turds too.
"What do you mean?"
"Mustard. Custard. AND YOU YOU BIG SACK OF ****
Feb 14, 2011
Feb 14, 2011 at 4:43 PM UTC
Magic mirror on the wall
tell a story, lies are fine
and so am I
just the other day a feller said
my, what great curves youu have
cars and such were never an interest
just a stupid investment
waste of time and money
late late for a very important slate
a new one
out with the old, in with the innovative
get creative
it's impossible
too broad, minds can be narrow as rails
trains pass through
rumbling, rumbling like rockslides in canyons
you in?
Fun can be naughty
not like when you're a child
no
that fun was preconceived frivolty
but this **** hear
yessir, this is real fun
you got it ***
maybe spark some interest in the papers
words with more words
darling tell me a story
make it **** good
about a princess who isn't beautiful
but still pretty, in a rather unnoticeable way
and make her a ****** who loves fire
take it up
makes me all sleepy
when your mirror talks in such silliness.
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 10:22 PM UTC
This is a song that I call
I beat the mountain
And it ends
with I am dead
I beat the mountain yessir
I beat the mountain
Don't just pretend
that it hurts
I beat the mountain dallas
I beat the mountain
I beat the mountain alice
I beat the mountain
I beat the mountain
I beat the mountain
There's a place in this world
Where you can go to climb to heaven
It's in the Himalayan Mountains
in south, east, central asia
It takes a week to walk to the mountain
And one more week to reach the air
And there is no air at the top
And you freeze your face off there
And so I walked to the mountain
And I reached higher ev'ry day
And I breathed in the air
And took pictures of the mountain
Now that mountain presents a challenge
Says "Don't come near me if you dare"
For I will slay you on this mountain
I have before ; I will again
Uh-Oh the challenge of that mountain
The challenge in the air
The challenge of that mountain
The challenge of that mountain
And I climbed the mountain
Yes I did, I climbed the mountain
I climbed the mountain
I climbed the mountain
You think the sun, when it hits your head
That you're blinded or you're dead
You think the sun, when it hits your head
It warmed your head but, it didn't
But I kept climbing, I kept ahead
Going higher and higher, no more air
But there's more mountain, so there
It's all a joke, just on you, not all of humanity
Most people know better and
Stay away from the mountain
It bites off your head
Takes your fingers and toes
And nose from you and leaves you dead
Takes your brain, makes you delirious
Makes you crazy in the brain, I'm serious
So stay away from the mountain
Stay away from the mountain
Stay Away! Stay away from the mountain
Stay Away! Stay away from the mountain
Stay Away! Stay Away, Far Far Away!
Cause I climbed up that mountain
Yes I did, I climbed that majic mountain
Yes I did, I climbed the mountain
I'm full of dread 'cause I am dead
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
i'm a polyamorous bi-curious sex-machine girl
yessir i am.
i love my daddy
that never gave a ****
and would have rather
been with drunk women
which may be why
i feel beautiful
when i drink.
and by god
i love my cousin
that loved a young girl's body
and couldn't resist
touching mine
which may be why
i'm entranced
by a woman's form.
and holy hell
i love my ex
that grew cold
and became violent
over the smallest things
which may be why
i enjoy
being abused.
and jesus christ
i like my boyfriend
that truly loves me
and treats me right
which may be why
i don't know
how
to
love
him.
Apr 30, 2011
Apr 30, 2011 at 6:17 PM UTC
Yessir I have felonies
and melodies both melancholy and miraculous
paragraphiculous and ridiculous
stole some shows and some thunder
thighs like two day old pudding slap 'em and ride the waves
sike
drink up some dishwasher detergent chased with lead paint
not for the faint of heart just the stupid as ffffffffuuuuuu when under the right noises
and boyses and girlies all singing their swirlies
and twirlin' 'round like pinwheels of tin steel
ten feet off of the ground
hillsides like pill boxes full of coins and coincidences
unmeasured instances of grief and shame without a blame
no face to force hate just mirrors to show fate
and the stars in the sky with their winking teasing ways all
fall to the ground
will be dead within days
but they are not forsaken, maybe only spared
to avoid seeing the moment when sunny didn't share
and all went dark like absence of creation
animation of fears all mixed and respun into dope dubstep
to be grinded and mashed
and spat back up into the trees
May 29, 2012
May 29, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
there were old men
laying around the
pool
like cigarette butts
in an ashtray
burnt out and
diminishing as
their feet
dangle in the water
lapping up against
their knees
they talked about
the old war
the good war
back in a time when
there was war to
believe in
now what?
now they have their
feet in a pool
fat white skin
burning in the moonlight
while knobby knees
are canvas to varicose
veins and the occasional
scar
--oh this one from
surgery, this one
from a foxhole
dug out some
hillside near Salerno
sliced up the
side of my leg
nice and good, yessir,
killed the
**** guinea
though don't worry--
and they would hold
out their arms
to explain how
they held those old
standard issue springfield's
while arthritis shook
that imaginary
rifle to the point
of danger but
they never noticed
leaning in to stare down
the sights
aiming carefully at
some elusive
foe across the pool
they would laugh at
how much they hated those
guns
they would laugh at
the insanity of it all
how young they had been
how old they were now
how much had changed
and how much hadn't
their wives were all gone
left widowed or divorced
all it seemed they had
was Tunisia or
Italy or that French
beach early morning in
1944
the world is a battlefield
for old men
with no
weaponry but old
stories caked in dust
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 12:17 PM UTC
Paws and reflect
we're all good little kids
in bleachers, listening patiently,
allowing nonsense to continue
then the trees fell
things got out of hand
kids became adults with super strength
lifted the floors up
threw chainsaws into crowds
yessir
they grew up that day
that hour
and nobody pitied the inhanced
only wished they could join
could be as jaded as the them
climb mountains and spit acid
melt rocks with a look
but no
such characteristics were reserved for the up-and-coming
gods and titans
full of potential energy
bursting at the seams of the skin
splitting open into laughter and mockery
they will save the world
or at least give it a hell of a run for its money.
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 10:12 AM UTC
Danimal Dan was Green, reusing every hand-me-down
the dumpster offered.
stipend half our middle class allowance, so the Danimal
could get his fix in unison with ours.
slab dual twenties in his oily callous hands.
while sluggin N’ sloshin’ his cheap wine,
the Danimal returns heroic, with red lips
and pink teeth, handing us “licka” boasting new
apocalyptic theories
the sky is full of creatures,
deys plottin’ yessir, pilots
known for years, but Big
Washington Wiggies, keep
Uhmmmm zipped, yessir
hired dem creatures, “population
control” to **** eat America
leaving only the Finest.
the Danimal’s vision flashes, giant winged
Salamanders kamakazie dive from the sky.
fat white collar Cons offer bribes as they ****
fantastic fear all over their linen pants.
some auction children as the Danimal
arrives with an army of America’s finest
staggering out of
back alley bars & soup
kitchens
they shake Salamander hands
Slurring welcome
with Bourbon breaths
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
Crick crack click clap snip snap on the concrete
The city is on the move and to stand would be
The slapstick comedy of stopping a treadmill.
Acceleration animation gravitation from the rotation
Apathetic friction that is devil-may-care like your heart
Dragged down on the gym floor and the sweaty men laugh.
Tick tock nonstop the clock hops and bops away the time
Of the day and eternity seems like a fairy tale
Because this era is neverneverland faith, we are young.
And getting younger, we plan to die naked as we came,
Lounging in retirement, the summer that knows no end.
But sighing the dying are crying relying upon our move
And we move past, this blur of momentum that the city has become,
Because stillness is for the hippies and the natives and we are neither.
Capitalistic colonial conquering captains of industry we charge
Credit or debit because it isn't ours anyways and the bank is moving.
Down the street in the heat can't beat the beat of the sweet treat
That the homeless remember the memory of the taste of mercy.
Like dogs in heat they pant and beg and we shake them off our pantleg
Because it is designer and the label buys manhood cheap and sells it high.
We split hit and quit and never commit because we spit words like blessing
Out when we wash our mouths out every night and every morning
Because it is the only way to get the taste out of your mouth when you wake up.
As if the jacket I wear can't clothe a man from the cold or sell for more
And my closet is lined with the clothes I don't remember to forget about wearing.
It is not hate that congregates or abates the rate the weight is pulling me down,
But fear of the immensity of impossibility colliding with reality inevitably,
Because one man's sacrifice will suffice to pay the price of my vice.
Yessir hearts are racing toward the first heart, we are collaborating.
That the dying need not remain the dead but know life to the fullest.
The poor and the sore need not abhor or war with the rush of the city.
Because saints and saviors are not just bedtime stories as long as my life
Has the power, no the will, no just the faith, all it needs is faith.
The sick have been tricked that their wick runs quick
Like crick crack click clack snip snap on the concrete
These hearts are moving this city on a hill.
Mar 24, 2011
Mar 24, 2011 at 6:28 PM UTC
The rigging is
set, Captain.
Brown rope, aye,
secured tightly - aye,
can be adjusted.
Here, I'll stand on this
chair and see how
it's looking - aye,
Captain, it's proper
tight now, it will
function just
well enough, sir.
Oh, Captain, the sea;
I can see the
stormy waves,
black and
turmoiled. Aye,
Captain, all rigging
set. All hands on
deck, yessir.
We can't very well set
sail with a chair on the
deck, Captain.
Permission to kick
it away?
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
You are allowed to laugh, I've heard it is good medicine.
(sonnet #MMMMMCMXCII)
Alas. I cherish too much, in a sense,
October's pale eye, and how in betrayl
Thet lonely yellow leaf 'non skitters, frail
And hapless 'cross the blacktop, lost from hence
Within grey shadows as cold winds breathe thence
In careless fashion through worn Maples' hale
Stance, green, orange-kissed and whispring of ne bail
Whilst Death walks silent through this vague suspense.
These blue skies wear a cloudless mien as twere,
Yet blinding echoes of thin fragments do
Some tour of duty in their backdrop fer
Good measure. Yellow gladrags dance, the crew
Of staid leaves fragile. But I love't all, poor
As saying is, only wanting, yessir: You.
24Oct16a
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 10:03 PM UTC
\|/
@-@
( -Q- )
<=>
how I
drool over obese girls
with huge great cheeks
of wobbly dimpled fat
>========o======== no skinny birds for me!=======o========<
absolutely no way
yeeha
i love to see wobbly
fat girls waddling along
with their tyres of white flab
quivering in their size 88 jeans
like a pack of rabid rabbits fighting
in a rubber sack, and what do they need
yessir, they are barking for a friendly *****
from moi, edna the chubby-chaser and lover
of gorgeous female flesh body mass index forty
(at an absolute total minimum i must emphasise)
and preferable fifty so they look like a giant dumpling
i know you know the sort of image i crave: dimpled, dappled
acreages of heaving ********** wowee-yowee i am so excited
please god lead me to the land where the extra supersize fatties live
and let me exhaust my ***** gaze on their incredible buxom enormities
let me get my paws on them let me wallow in their glories dear god
oh yes indeedy when you come to think of it there's nothing like
a huge billowing fatso to get my blood afire with testosterone
and bottom-of-the-barrel-scraping loving lust
so why not jump off a pier
all you skinny minnies
per-lease
/\
/ \
/ \
@ @
/ \
/ \
+++ +++
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC
On some verdant green hill far away in cute little Palestine of old
Before the Israelis marched in and bunged out the owners
Jesus was hanging about on the cross not feeling too happy
I suppose he was dying for you and me because his Dad was asleep
And he doesn't care if you are a ****** or a giant or a fatty or a fairy!
Yessir! He loves everyone unequivocally provided they praise him endlessly
And receive him in their souls and sing him a load of ****** hymns!
But if you don't receive the LORD and reject the words of the EVIL ONE
He (God) will crush you totally and utterly like a blue-tailed fly
Squatting on a well-used and ill-cleaned second-hand lavatory brush
Without any exception whatsoever even if you are an ugly fat dwarf
As He don't hold with no discrimination nor positive action no way!
So get down on your knees (a shorter journey for amputees with stumps)
And get praying to THE LORD without blinking twice. Yeeha! Amen!
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
My dad was on Omaha Beach but he
didn’t talk much about it so now
I’m going to take the rest of the day
to tell you all that he didn’t much talk about
we broke the Enigma code yeah we did
you can always tell a real veteran by
his thousand-yard stare, yessir, I know stuff
we kicked the Germans’ butts but he didn’t talk
much about it if not for us the French
would be speaking German yeah man yeah
when I was in graduate school but he
didn’t talk much about it we saved the world
when I was in graduate school when I
saw Patton those liberals in academia
he had this thousand-yard stare them snowflakes
wouldn’t hit Omaha Beach now they’d be browning
their pants when I was in graduate school
but he didn’t talk much about it yeah
that M-1 was the best battle implement
ever devised I got me one and boy
it’s got some serious stopping power yessir
I just love to go out to the range and pop some caps
with that bad boy the French are cheese-eating
surrender monkeys we can’t depend on the Italians
but he didn’t talk much about it when I
was in graduate school thousand-yard stare
my dad was there he didn’t talk much about it
here is a youtube about it if only
those snowflakes would watch Patton they’d learn something
left-wing academia he didn’t talk much about it
when I was in graduate school yeah man
I seen it on Band of Brothers liberal elites
Macron Macron Macron first front second front
‘cause I know stuff I got a whole liberry
but he didn’t talk much about it if not
for us yeah you’d all be speaking German
we saved France’s **** when DeGaulle told us
he wanted all American soldiers out of France
we asked him if that included the thousands
of American soldiers in French cemeteries
and that sure shut him up ha ha ha
bet you never heard that before and then
there was these old veterans at the airport
and this Frenchy asked them for their passports
and this old man had to look for his
and this Frenchy asked this veteran if he
had been in France before and this veteran
said he had and then this Frenchy he said
then you know you need to have your passport
ready and this here old veteran said that he
was at Normandy and there wasn’t no Frenchies
to give it to and you could hear a pin drop
ha ha I bet you never heard that one before
When I was in graduate school when I
was on my gap year but he didn’t talk much about it
snowflake liberal elites in academia
I love me my AK-47 that son
spits out some serious lead but he didn’t
talk much about it…
Me? Like, I had this deferment, my feet,
but I know all about it ‘cause I watch John Wayne
and my dad was in it so I guess he ought to know
and he was in a real war; you were only in
like you know them A-rabs and stuff…
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 4:05 PM UTC
greasy hands
and rusty tools
bolts and shop rags
that dry my tough skin
i see the clock tick down
as me and my brother work away
the money makes us patient
because our time awaits
sick back crack the tall tops
and shots bring back the days when we sat on bar stools and talked ****
but when the magazine cover cops our last names
we will be sittin in the shade and our dickies are in the dryer waiting to be folded
creased and soon we will be pampered on
and we will sit back and smoke cigs and talk about the days when we talked about gettin rich
now were rich and talking about what we will do next
paychecks are old news
the new girls are old news
and the old news are our new stories
just sittin and listenin to wu tang
and sparkin up mexican bluegrass
and not cashin in our g pass
flippin pages
flippin pages
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC
I'm standing on the icy head of a barge, all rusted to **** P.J. (the lead deckhand) and I wait patiently with frozen line tearing at our shoulders. We're far away from the buzzy, groaning engines of the Mary C tug, and all I hear is the water being pushed out of our way.
"What direction is that?"
"Up river?"
"Yessir".
They call rope line. To me it's always been rope and I don't care to call it something else. But they've made it clear, "it is and will always be referred to as line". It'd be nice if terminology was the only thing that ruffled these country boys feathers. Who knew they'd be so strict? And do I really need a question mark if it's rhetorical?
I'm on a boat. It's 6:30 a.m., or as they say back home "early as **** Sun's poking through the trees and it makes that gentle floating snow a bit more detailed. I stick nervously to the rim, but only because I'm new. It isn't worth pretending to be comfortable, at least not on that thing. Besides, falling in the water is basically equivalent to dying here. The safety videos stressed that. Although, they also swore that a crew will alert you to "watch the bump!" whenever hitting up against something. That's not a real thing though. A lot of the **** we watched isn't real. I'm indifferent. After all, I didn't chase a boat to feel comfortable.
In my heavy-hearted moments, pessimism takes a whack at everything I put faith in. I reject myself and challenge every step that lead me to unhappiness. Big, big questions toss and turn inside my head, and they try to convince me to run home. It happens.
But I'm happy right now, just seeing the sunrise and being surrounded by all these strange factories puffing out clouds. It's probably all bad, toxic stuff. Sometimes it's not worth digging into negative realities. For now, they're factories that make clouds for us to enjoy. P.J. and I both lit up a cigarette and he asked me why I was smiling.
"This is a pretty cool job. I mean, what a way to wake up".
He spit casually off the side, down into the water.
"You aint lyin".
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
stay awake
stay awake
I cant.
you have to
I wouldn't be nearly falling asleep in class if you would have let me sleep.
Miss Love
Yessir?
Wake up.
What?
Who are you talking to?
me
Mr. Miller? Are you sleeping? Wake up.
Huh?
I think you were sleeping.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
I watched a man die for no reason.
two hard-bought lines, pay attention
I saw something
Men were never meant to see, it's not like TV.
I had to say, I saw him die, no one else said they did.
So, to this day,
In America, I live, an honored survivor of what I saw.
I was reminded by a fool, on TV
telling what we did in that war
for no reason.
It's on TV, it's not real.
Like Vietnam was, remember? It don't mean nuthin',
FTA, it means find the answer sir, yessir.
Permanent tat, yessir. FTA, all the way.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 6:32 PM UTC
is the answer?
or maybe?
or?
tell me what would you
say?
I hate to disagree.
So I agree even to disagree,
with a flexible
spine.
Mine is
of a yessir priority,
under wearing nothing not a thing,
I go off wondering,
how I got
here?
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
yessir yessir yessir yessir yessir
yessir yessir yessir yessir yessir
yessir yessir yessir yessir yessir
yessir yessir yessir yessir yessir
yessir yessir yessir yessir yessir
yessir yessir yessir yessir yessir
yessir yessir yessir yessir yessir
yessir yessir yessir NO!
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
Our reputation never had a chance
Since the fat boy did his dance.
Here he is to ruin the land!
Mighty Mouth's underhand!
He has never had a single clue
Not a thought for me or you.
He stays surrounded by some total jerks
Who always nod “okay”
No matter what he says he wants to do
No matter what he’ll say.
We should be shivering in our bikinis
He’s nothing but a modern Mussolini.
Yessir, everything he does is for cash
And his family is a bunch of trash.
Our country will be great again
But not if Mighty Mouth stays in.
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 11:29 PM UTC
I spread my influence on lives
And lives
And lives.
Each a part of every art
Surprise
Surprise
Surprise.
We rise at the sound of alarms on the dresser
So by 9 AM we can start saying 'yessir'
We fall back asleep at the end of the day
Like we just lived our lives through an era
Through an age
And each page read
mis
understood
By the reader
Finds itself-
Simon says
The picture is the leader.
I've made my point.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 11:46 AM UTC
The Most Boring American Legion Meeting Ever
A Monologue in Two Parts
I.
Voice:
“Ya wanna talk prostrate1 cancer? I’ll tell ya
About prostrate cancer those PSAs
Don’t mean nothing and those doctors don’t know
Nothin’ I’ve had 15 on my PSA
“Ever since when and I ain’t got prostrate cancer
But this feller I knew he had a one on his
PSA and he had stage five cancer
And he died, so don’t tell me nothin’ about
“Prostrate cancer ‘cause I go the meetings
And so I know, I tell ya, yessir, I do…”
1Prostate, of course
II
Same Voice:
“Say, did y’all have any good buffets in Iraq
Or that other place Afghanistan
The buffets in Manila were expensive,
I tell ya, expensive, they cost forty dollars,
“Yessir, they did, and that was right down the street
From the embassy and that was too much
Just too much for what ya got, I tell ya
And they gave us ‘phone cards and they were made
“Right there and sixty minutes disappeared
Off it right when you dialed the number, yessir…”
L’Envoi
A Second Voice (in pain, weak, much like the voice of the Bleeding Sergeant in Macbeth):
“I move we adjourn.”
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 4:35 PM UTC