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Best Poems Written by Mark Croson The Applethoughtrotten

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A Pocket Full of Rocks

Funny Story and unfortunately true. When I was in Prison at Pelican Bay State prison in Crescent City, Ca., one of the ways I made money or "cantene"  as it was called was poetry of sorts.. I was more or less the hallmark kinda person. Writing stuff for anyone that asked and especially when they paid. I was asked to write a poem about having a pocket full of rocks. I had made the mistake of boasting that I could come up with something at least with a beginning, middle and end about anything.....anything ..........You read this and you will see how wrong I was.....or was I?

"Pocket Full of Rocks"

I had a brand new pick up truck. 
A big wide screen T.V.  
A house up on the hillside 
beneath the shade of and old Oak Tree. 
I once wore some fancy clothes. 
All around the world I'd roam. 
Now all I've got is what you see. 
Flat broke and all alone.

I was known at every bank in town. 
Had more cash than I thought I'd spend. 
Both A Master Card and Visa 
whose limits had no end. 
I had women everywhere I turned. 
More love than you could know. 
Then I went and blew it all. 
Where did it all go?

Now with patches on my blue jeans 
and holes in both my socks, 
I've a head thats full of empty dreams 
and a pocket full of rocks.

No..I don't have a dog gone thing. 
No car! No clothes! No house. 
Hell even my best friend is gone. 
Ran off with what was my spouse. 
Yet I'm still fairly happy. 
I can't dwell on what I had. 
Cause' if I did; believe you me. 
I'd be to Gaw Durn sad!

They were talking about drugs. I did not know they were talking about a drug. So you can imagine all the crap I got on this one. .... Prison sucked. I deserved to be there. (I never hurt anyone, stole or terrorized anyone) This was a very lighthearted moment in a time of my life that was anything but pleasant. 
*I had no idea I was being so prophetic.........For Someone?

Thank You
The Applethoughtrotten

Details | Mark Croson The Applethoughtrotten Poem

Where the Rockfish Lurk

Where the river runs into the Chesapeake Bay. 
The currents run strong and they say "Beware". 
Many a man has ignored it and sunk to his doom.

On white capped waters beneath a crystal blue sky 
where a thousand men live by the tide, 
one boy drifts and awaits the return of the moon.

In a tiny row boat with a four horse Merc. 
He braves the bay to where the Rockfish lurk. 
Gonna catch him a big one and prove to his Dad he's a man.

When the waters went still and the wind began. 
He was too young to know the mess he was in. 
He never turned back when the bay started yelling it's name.

The boat pitched forward and rocked to the back. 
Waves so high that the sky went black 
but the boy stayed steady and never showed any fear.

A white Bucktail on ten pound test, 
he dropped the line off the side and grabbed a life vest. 
He held on tight to his rod as the storm drew near.

Thunder clapped and the sky lit up. 
The boy got excited when his rod gave a tug. 
He never noticed the water that was filling his boat.

He started reeling with all of his might 
when the angry old bay joined in on the fight. 
Against a boy no longer, a fight against a full grown man.

When the storm passed by and the sky turned blue. 
A boat on the beach with a small red shoe 
and the biggest Rockfish ever landed in the Chesapeake Bay.

In a tiny row boat with a four horse Merc. 
A boy braved the bay to where the Rockfish lurk 
and lived to tell his story over and over again.

The Applethoughtrotten

Details | Mark Croson The Applethoughtrotten Poem

The Boy Next Door

Too large for most to accomodate,
If it is important he'll be late.
Sometimes vulgar and crude to the core.
Never mistaken as the boy next door.

A hard headed Giant that's misunderstood.
Entirely too intellegent for his own good.
Cares for nobody but himself 
and anyone else in need of help.

A bit chauvanistic, a womans man
bedding as many as anyone can.
Intimidates others just for fun.
An aberration to most, enigma to some.

He takes a few drugs. Make that many. 
Rarely his pockets carry more than a penny
He eats too much and never enough.
Gives as good as he gets, It's only stuff!

He is never wrong, less often right.
His sense of humor is quite the riot.
I have never known a man such as he.
Always there when I've been in need.

Talk all you want and think as you may
Sure he has a few faults, but he is really ok
A brash gentle giant who will often offend. 
My brother, my buddy, my friend to the end.



.

Details | Mark Croson The Applethoughtrotten Poem

The Legend of Tabby O'Dell

Gather round both young and old for I've a tale to tell. 
About this little lonely cat by the name of Tabby O'Dell.

Tabby was a fiesty critter. Spunky as could be. 
She loved to play with other cats and often played in trees.
Many a day you'd see her prancing down the allies.
Digging through all the trash cans of the gourmet restaurant galleys.

Once she found a Doggy bone. Wow that was a sight. 
Watching Tabby drag it home. It took her half the night..
But Tabby was a lonely gal for she did not have a pet. 
She would dream away for hours of the boy she'd oneday get.

Til oneday little Tabby, as she came around a bend, 
found a little Chinese boy and soon they were best friends.
It seemed no matter where they'd go they were always seen together. 
Be it morning, noon or night, even nasty weather!

Soon she was invited to her new friends house. 
Where a feast she did enjoy of fresh sun ripened mouse.
To her this was the finest time. A time so full of joy. 
Just Tabby O'Dell the lonely cat and her pet little boy.

They were in the kitchen. I believe it was at night. 
When sadly Tabby and her little boy had an awful fight.

Tabby clawed and sneered and bit as if she had a fever. 
Then promptly had her head chopped off by a Chinese cleaver!
Her head rolled down the counter. Onto the floor it flew. 
The lifeless carcass of Tabby O'Dell soon to be cat stew.

While the moral of this story is not easy to explain, 
it has to do with relationships and how they often end.
So make sure when you get attached that you don't act a fool 
or soon you'll find your head cut off and no more than pussy stew!

The Applethoughtrotten

Details | Mark Croson The Applethoughtrotten Poem

Hard Headed

A once healthy old man 
all alone in the sand. 
I reflect upon my past
The good and the bad. 
All that I've had.
Why time went by so fast.

With a cough and a weeze
I rise up to my knees.
Then I roll a cigarette.
A hand through my hair.
A breath of fresh air.
At least they've not killed me yet.

Still one set of prints. 
That really stinks. 
No wonder I'm so lonely.
So back to my tent
where again I will vent
about losing my one and only.

Another day is done. 
Wasn't that fun? 
I lie down to read.
I can't find my book 
though I look and I look.
So instead I smoke some weed.

A couple of good puffs
of fresh homegrown stuff.
My head vieled in fog.
Although a rarity
I have a moment of clarity
and decide to get a dog.

I now close my eyes
and await the sunrise
where it starts over again. 
But such is the quandry
of this stoned, stupid and onery, 
hard headed, homeless man.

Details | Mark Croson The Applethoughtrotten Poem

The Case of the Missing Jacket

"The Case of the Missing Jacket"

Marty the Mailman and Cathy the Cop 
were having some coffee and tea 
when the sirens, they blared, and a voice cut the air, 
Screaming "Please help me, please help me please!".

Marty the Mailman and Cathy the Cop 
jumped right into the action 
and found a young lad who was looking quite sad 
for someone had stole his new jacket.

All around town to each restaurant and shop
went Marty the Mailman and Cathy the Cop. 
They searched in the kitchens and on top of tall bridges, 
when they caught a break and met a girl named Marissa. 

Marty the Mailman and Cathy the Cop 
questioned their new friend. 
She was not only pretty but really quite witty
and braver than a lot of grown men.

From the classroom coat closets to the curtains on stage, 
She showed them the playground, all the great hiding places.
They looked in the freezer and at the top of the ropes. 
They searched all over and never lost hope
.
Marty the Mailman and Cathy the Cop 
with Marissa right by their side 
followed up on all clues, almost wore out their shoes. 
It was now just a matter of time.

The following day at about eight o'clock 
came Marty the Mailman and Cathy the Cop 
bringing donuts and milk from the store on the hill
for the bad guy had been caught.

Marissa had told them to look on the top, 
that is Marty the Mailman and Cathy the Cop. 
The top of the slide that looked like a boat and low and behold 
there was that boys coat..... 

Along with some kittens and a little red ball.
The jacket wasn't stolen, wasn't stolen at all.
Just borrowed a moment to help keep her kits warm
The new Mother cat never meant any harm....

Thus ends the mystery of the missing jacket 
With the help of Marissa the case has been cracked.
The playground is safe. A little kids heaven. 
I wonder what happens when Marissa turns seven?

The Applethoughtrotten

Details | Mark Croson The Applethoughtrotten Poem

The Puppy

"The Puppy"


The boys were outside playing beneath a crisp December sun.
I was in the bathroom performing patch work on the Plumbing
My girls were in the kitchen helping Mom make supper.
When I heard someone ask, Has anyone seen the puppy?.


The house began to vibrate. Through each room we did run. 
The boys were outside playing beneath a crisp December sun.
I hope he didn't get outside or get into the trash.
Someone check the TV room and check it really fast.


Then I heard a crunching sound emitting from the wall 
in the opposite direction of the girls looking down the hall.
The boys were outside playing beneath a crisp December sun.
So I went and checked it out. Where had that puppy gone?


There he is! Over there! He's chewing on the hutch!.
Looks like he's been there awhile, Maybe he got stuck?
Finish dinner.I will get him and then wrap up the plumbing.
The boys were outside playing beneath a crisp December sun..

                                         The Applethoughtrotten

Details | Mark Croson The Applethoughtrotten Poem

Hope and Despair

Coming close to loosing it all,
except a few clothes, an old coat and a ball.
He plods to the Mission with a rare conditon
of which he can no longer recall.

Found buried in this sad stories text.
Why so solemn, beat down and depressed?
Too many bad drugs? Hanging out with some thugs?
or just broken, hurt and rejected?

Sitting in the rear of the Chappel.
From his coat pocket comes a ruby red apple.
Althought its a chore he eats down to the core.
How he arrived there he's truly baffled.

He one day found himself alone.
When his family and friends all had gone.
He pushed them away, a regret to this day.
Now nowhere has he to call home.

The preacher comes in all in smiles.
A sermon about mans pre-ordained trials. 
Being somewhat amused, more often confused.
He stares down at the colored floor tiles.

Meandering day after day.  
His ambitions and dreams fade away.
Pondering maybe a drink could help me think
and then perhaps I'll be okay.

A hand comes down on his shoulder.
The Chapell's now empty, the sermon is over.
It is now time to eat and then off to sleep,
hoping it doesn't get any colder.

Inhaling a breath of fresh air;
swaying the line between hope and despair.
he made a decision, went to the Mission, 
praying someone may possibly care.

Snuggled in bunk number seven.
A sleepless yearning to no longer remember.
As he rolls to his side once more he cries.
Wishing soon he will journey to Heaven.

Details | Mark Croson The Applethoughtrotten Poem

An Apple Thought Rotten

"An Apple Thought Rotten"

Trailing away from a path all to common 
for the soul of this man about town
goes the way of the heart of an apple thought rotten 
without so much as a sound.

Now all alone I reflect in a hush 
not knowing whether I am happy or sad.
I am taking my time. Why should I rush? 
There is still so much life to be had.

Once stuck in a world of limited ideals 
always caring what others might say, 
both Heaven and Hell right at my heals, 
I finally got out of the way.

Though the path I have chosen has been rough and less traveled, 
it has seldom been lonely or blue. 
Some drink and some drugs I'll admit I have dabbled, 
but good God I've had fun....Have you?

So as I stray from the path the common folk take 
and your apalled at what you might see. 
Remember my life is the one that I made 
and I'm at the least....100 and 10% me.

Details | Mark Croson The Applethoughtrotten Poem

Winter Memories

When the winter blows in from the northwest 
and there is nary a cloud in the sky. 
It is just the right time, the very best; 
for a slice of Moms hot Apple Pie.

You know the one with the thin struddle crust, 
stuffed with brown sugar and Macintosh apples. 
We'd fill up our bellies til we'd nearly bust. 
How we'd eat so much I'm truly baffled.

Moms apple pie, always a treat 
with a scoop of ice cream on the side. 
All mixed together, a taste O' so sweet. 
The pleasure just can't be denied. 

My how I miss those cool winter days. 
The air scented with apples and spice. 
The very thought makes me hungry and it's only May. 
I guess a Hot Dog will have to suffice!

The Applethoughtrotten