Poem | |
Waking up in the morning, Knowing that if your hair isn't proper your going feel
It shouldn't be this way but shallowness is what makes the world twist and
Beautiful people get hired every day and we'll never know if it was because of
their stunning ness or their portfolio.
Honestly the first thing you do in the morning is check in the mirror.
It's not because your shallow, you just want to make sure that you look good because you
know that people talk and if they do it shouldn't be you that's ever mentioned.
It hurts to hear whispers in the air and your name is being thrown every where and
there's nothing you can do about it.
Fix yourself up, even add a little make up to hide the things that even a magnifying
glass couldn't see.
You turn in the mirror in your most expensive high heel shoes, Your just going to the
office but god knows the trip there is like a fashion show.
Your just walking down your block but it feels like a run way, Girls can't help but
check each other out it's just the principle female instinct.
All this pressure to make yourself look good 20 dollars down the drain
at the best salon to get your hair done and then it's sweated out in the hot summer sun.
What's the use you start to think, but you could never ever change... even if you
decided to chop it all off you would still have to pay to keep it straight.
You want to look like holly Barry that's a tough act to follow, she makes it look so
easy and then you end up looking like some knock off.
Are you from canal street some fake guy will
ask? Because I could sworn I saw you your just another copy cat.
Ouch that hurt you though as you kneeling down in the mirror trying your best to survive
the sharks that are thirsty for blood.
Tears pouring down your face and you cry until the morning.
The tears have dried and your eyes are red, hair is puffy so you grab that comb and
hurry the same routine.
It's sad but it's true some say beauty should be natural but there's
only few who are natural bueaties.
Poem | |
AN ODE TO THANKSGIVING
‘twas the night of Thanksgiving
and all through the feast
not a creature was stirring
not even a beast
The turkey was laid on the table with care
in the hopes that Melissa and Kaitlyn
would soon be there.
They feasted and feasted
‘till their bellies were full
when all of a sudden
a noise came from a hole
A mouse who was quite small came up
out of that hole in the wall
It squeaked and squeaked
and gave such a fright
that they ran away screaming
into the night
But then all of the sudden
there came a big clatter
as the mouse was scrambling
upon the fruit platter
“Wait’ it said, “I’m just like you”
“I would love to be your friend too!”
Melissa and Kaitlyn squealed with delight
as they picked up the mouse
and ran from the sight
They ran through the feast
and then through the kitchen
when all of the sudden
the mouse started ‘twitchen
“Wait!” said the mouse,
“I heard a noise:
I think it was because of those very large boys-
the boys who are eating Chips Ahoy!”
Melissa and Kaitlyn turned in disgust
thinking that those boys were nuts
“How odd!” said the mouse
“that they should have a part-y
and forget to invite you and me!”
So they went and stole a chip
from the bag that was resting on his hip.
But when they ran back to the feast
they ran right into that big old beast.
“Stop!” the beast said
“or I’ll knock off your head,”
“hand me that bag and you be alright.”
“just as long as you get out of my sight.”
They gave him the bag and ran right away
To go take their leave, down to the stock of hay.
It had been a long day
so they slept in the hay
and dreamt sweetly
of their Thanksgiving Day.
Poem | |
I have this friend; a really great guy.
Always happy; always spry.
And then one day; he stopped and sighed.
His lips moved twice and his smile died.
I said "What's wrong", and I got real worried.
Until he told me of his ex who scurried.
We both got mad and it got mean.
but before we left;
nick-named his queen.
At first I listened to what he said.
But soon the swears were from both our heads.
Only now I knew what he would scoff at.
We both yelled "Down!" to
ANNA THE PROPHET.
She talked about Jesus and how he danced.
Talked about locust and took a chance.
Shocked and surprised with each worried glance.
Made strangers as fast as United States' France.
She said let's be friends and left him alone.
Still calls him for coffee by way of the phone.
And if this sounds sweet, special or kind.
Remember; works called her in before nine.
My friend is a Saint and won't turn her down.
Hurting her feelings would knock off his crown.
And when they drive by, you'll tease them for sure.
Not for a coffee nor being a queer.
For turning his head, in light of a tear.
My friend is a man. Don't be his judge.
All of his stories come with great grudge.
I know he is weak and tell him to stop it.
Not for a woman.
Anna the Prophet
Poem | |
Raise your fists
And raise them high!
Tonight's the night you all will die!
Kill them all! Kill them all!
Slaughter the children
And wipe out the men
Cleanse this earth
Of it's happiness and joy
Fill the land with pain and Destroy!
Kill the men
And kill the women!
Kill yourself when you're done with'em!
Eat the bones
Suck on the flesh
Cut off the toes
And leave the rest
Raise the banners
Fire the cannons!
Knock off some heads
And slaughter the women!
Drink some blood
And spit out some teeth
Fill your stomach with good, good eats!
Fry the skin and peel it off!
Reveal the flesh one by one
Rot away when your time is done!
Til' the time is right
I'm the victor I won the fight!
Come one come all
To the bloody sight!
Gore and flesh and skin and skulls
Blood and tears and nails and bones
Eat them up!
Kill the weak!
Eat the meat!
Go, Go, Go!
Die, Die, Die!
Poem | |
The Lip Gloss question of the day is "What do I know about you?"
Can't really say -- everyday, I see something new.
It could be hat, wig, cornrows, or weave,
Don't matter which, I gotta have me a look-see.
It could be Fendi, Gucci, or knock-off imitation,
Don't matter which, I'm begging for a view with no cessation.
Her moods are so mercurial,
Could be sad, happy, intellectual, silly, angry or attitudinal.
Don't matter which, your presence and aura are always desirable.
You challenged me with the "So you think you know the crab now?" query,
In truth, the Crab's shell remains opaque, still shrouded in mystery.
Of course, I hope I'm in store,
To learn much, much more.
But I sincerely have all I need to know,
For you to occupy a special place deep within my soul.
Poem | |
Send them home
Bring them back
After the end of ends
Knock off turbans and
Ransack the shacks of the ghettos of New York
Putting things back together
In a mosaic attempt to fix
History and erase her’s
Women and Men
Brown and White
Black and Red
Mellow war fever
Intertwined within the masses
Let’s all hold hands
And blindly lead each other
To the end
A day of reckoning
Cutting through corn stalks and
Sprinkling homicide through prairies
Slashing the censored cacti
Tearing off the arms of the rising
Smearing blood across
The Painted Desert
We can’t move fast enough
To make bombs and slice children
Until their tears mix with their blood
To make clay we eat out of
And hit the club
Forget this mess
Dictator loving Socialists
Ease their way into tea parties
Mad Hatter racing The Walrus and the Carpenter
Frantic on opium and dynamite
Versus me, versus you
Me hit you, you hit me
Weaving a basket out of biological warfare
And psychological child’s play
To catch our hopes before they hit the ceiling and burst
Poem | |
It's funny to me how he tries,
Attempts to do
The same little things you used to,
And he expects the same results.
He tries so hard
When they were natural to you.
He can't even hold me like you used to.
All those spots you had,
He can't find one;
Or, maybe, it's just because
Those spots only worked for you.
That would make sense.
Serves him right, too.
I mean, how dare he try to be you?!
Does he think that's the only way into my heart?
How could I ever love him for him if he's trying to be you?
I won't. I can't. It's not fair to,
After everything I've already been through,
Ask me to fall in love with a knock-off you.
Poem | |
It is amazing how many super important people there are in my hometown!
At almost any intersection, I will be eclipsed by at least 2-3 individuals who are cooler
Than I could ever aspire to think to become.
Lately I see them everywhere!
They look just like the people on the covers of those high quality magazines I see
In line at the grocery store when I am buying my crate of ramen noodles, and
The 4 for $5 Bar-S brand hot dogs.
I can't help but to think, "WOW! Why haven't I seen any of these people on t.v. yet?"
My adulation for people like Newton, the Incas, Brahmms, Klimt has been misplaced!
Just when I felt like a wart infested slug for my lack of awareness,
A gracious miracle occurred:
This girl/woman/tranny pulled up next to me at a long traffic light.
She wore those wonderful Jackie-o knock offs that almost cover the entire face,
Making her nose look like this teensy-weensy little button!
The a.c. blew her hair around like she was in a photo shoot, and
After removing the cell phone that had neurally implanted itself to her head,
She stared straight ahead, as if in a trance.
I was sure that she was probably in deep thought concerning ways to feed starving babies,
Or contemplating the lines for her next secret audition that only she knows about.
Once the light turned chartreuse, she accelerated like a photon;
This is when I noticed the scintillating rims that resembled the UFO that I communicated with
Down by irrigation ditch the day before.
This was a sign... I had to catch up with her and share this knowledge!
I followed her the length of the city until she finally pulled
Her behemoth into some swanky day spa that had no airs of pretentiousness whatsoever.
It was weird because as I approached her vehicle, I began to sputter and stammer
All of my words; I even began to inexplicably lurch as I walked towards her.
When she saw me her eyes widened to the size of coffee saucers, and
The next thing I knew was there were these wires attached to my chest!
Suddenly I was dreaming of the time I ate mushrooms and touched a frayed cord
On an alarm clock.
When I awoke on the hot asphalt, my seraph had vanished into a mid afternoon haze.
I had to give a toothy smile though- I knew that my body just couldn't handle the intensity
Of her heavenly nimbus!
Poem | |
since i have been here
i have seen a bunch of useless people
look at that guy sitting against the counter
he does that all the time
he disturbs the cashiers
he is never here when my store manager is here
he knows nothing
he does not even help the cashiers and the manager with the tills calculations when they
ladies fall for him like he knows something
i do not know why
i am beggining to believe that we pay him for doing nothing
my wife seems to like him
she likes store packers
that one is only a trolley pusher
i asked my wife why he likes him so much
come over here
i am going to fire him on the spot just wait and see
you are fired
i told you he is useless
he even cries in front of girls
Poem | |
When the bus first got there, the Medic was tending to Brick and it took
all of five minutes for that to turn around. Brick was tending to the nurse.
No surprise, Bill thought to himself grinning. Girl never had a chance, and he laughed
while walking back to Brick’s squad car. The blue lights were still bubbling over the
top of the rig. Bill got in, called Brick’s twenty third to tell them to pick up his car at
the bridge but Brick had already anticipated that and beat him to it. It came as no
surprise to Bill. His detective buddy would never let pleasure interfere with his
passion for police work and figured bill would do that.
Bill drove the car back to the Bywater bridge where Bill’s own squad car was
parked still reflecting swirling lights off the base of the bridge. The bus had picked
up the body and was gone. Bill was still snooping around the crime scene twenty
minutes later when another squad car dropped off a driver to pick up Brick’s car. Bill
knew him as a player for the 21st precinct horseshoe team. “Hey John..” “Hello
Cowboy, good to see you back. You got a messy one goin’ here, I’m told.”
“Yep, I reckon we do. It’s Brick’s case but I got a feeling I’ll be in on it before long if I
don’t get fired first.”
“Looks like you're already on it if you ask me... Well I gotta run. Catch you on a
make up game.”
All Bill found under the bridge, beside the usual out the car window trash, which
could be construed to be evidence was a lady’s black high heeled shoe and a
compact case containing blush and red lipstick. He threw them in an evidence bag to
give to Brick later.
The speaker in his car was broadcasting “ one Victor seven, come in? One Victor
seven come in?” ---“Yeah one Victor seven here. What is it Tom?”
“Uh, Lt Griggs wants to know what’s goin’ on. Seems a little upset. There’s talk you
been joyriding in another precinct. Funny thing; he didn’t know you were even
signed in or back on duty. A minor detail. I took care of it for you.” “Thanks Tom, I
owe you one.”
“He wants a written report on his desk of today’s goings on by knock off or there
won’t be a knock off for ya. I stuck up for ya and told him I didn’t think you could
write but he just gave me a dirty look. Anyway, you’ve been told.” “Okay, thanks
Tom…... I think.” One Victor seven out. Bill headed back to the Thirty first to finish up
the dreaded paper work but first he’d call Brick to get their stories straight. (to be
cont. on Richard Pickett soup site.)
Poem | |
(Continued from Bill's side 10“)
"Never mind that. I know you well enough to know you know what you’re doing.
Just stick with me and keep me informed especially on this one. I’ll give you as much
leeway as I can. I got a hunch this case is going to be rough in more ways than
one. Get me? I’ve been around a while. I didn’t come with this morning’s milk. The
Captain and I already been discussing this one with the Commissioner. This
vigilante thing is dangerous and already out of control.”
Bill still didn’t know where this was going but at least so far he hadn’t been
demoted to walking a beat. His hope and nerve was picking up. This Griggs guy
was tough and had a rep for no bull. “Yeah, that’s wha ….”
“Just shut up and listen, Sgt. Lipton. The Captain doesn’t want any part of that
vigilante case. He wants a good record for an upcoming political agenda. That’s no
secret. He doesn’t want anything to do with this case because he’s afraid it won’t
get solved and his record will be stained with it.
You just stick to what you’re supposed to be doing and keep your ear to the
ground. From experience I know that vigilante.. if it’s just one,... isn’t going to work
out his issues in just one precinct. Keep in touch with what’s going on while you’re
on and off duty. If you got to check something out off the cuff, you are to ask me
first. Get it? Mums the word to the Captain. If he hears anything about our talk I’ll
deny every bit of it and you’ll be left holding the bag. Do you get my drift here Sgt.?
……… … .. …. “Cat got your tongue?”
“No sir, I just…uh …yes sir I mean ….I get your drift.”
“Good , I enjoyed our conversation…now haven’t you got someplace to go? It’s
knock off time. I believe your up for mounty duty tomorrow.”
“Yes, I believe I am. Is there anything else Lt Griggs?”
“Yes, close the door on your way out.” Bill took his hat up off his knee, stood up and
walked the three steps to the door when Lt Griggs said without looking up from his
paper work on his desk, “Bill…?
“ Glad to have you back“, he said with a more relaxed tone, “Now get outa here.”
And he went back to his case file.
Bill smiled, went to his office, traded his ball cap in for his Stetson and left the
building mulling over what the Lt had and had not told him.
(to be cont on Richard Pickett poetry site)
Poem | |
Your disc has a skip
Shooting haiku from the hip….
Don’t knock off my chip
Poem | |
The hat I wear fits well
Even when I take it off
How long I’ve had it, it’s hard to tell
At it some may scoff
It’s not new, not old, not a knock-off
I do wear others
Without them, I couldn’t be
Like so many mothers
I have a hat for my family
And one when my time is just for me
With different styles and places to go
My hats go with me everywhere
Cooking, cleaning, dinner, or a show
You may care or stop and stare
At the hat I place upon my hair
My favorite hat is the one I choose
That keeps me true to myself
It’s the one I most fear to lose
More than my health or wealth
When not on my head, it’s safe on a shelf
Poem | |
Here's to you, Dandy Don, ol' mate!
We in Soup jes' think you're great!
Ye who dwell in the land of the dingo,
'ave learned us to speak native Aussie lingo!
Our kindest regards to yer dog Bungeye Jack.
'e does a kindness in warmin' yer back!
Don't tipple too much good ol' Foster Brew,
For like a boomerang, 'twill come back to nettle you!
Keep on crankin' out them ballads fer our delight,'
And ol' Bob Hopeless'll see what he can write.
It's gittin' late so I'm gonna knock off and hit the hay.
Take care of yerself and Bungeye Jack and fer now, G'Day!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Poem | |
Stroll through the Illest Empire
So much heat feeling like we’re living in the fire
But we’re living under fire
Tell me how many shots must it take before my loved ones are crying at my own wake
Its time for a break from sad eyes I’ve seen grown men cry
It hurts to tell a loved one good-bye
It’s the same reason why they died
Hearts just too full of pride
Mothers praying their young’n wont be a victim of a homicide
Too many drive-bys blood shed for a block you really can’t call mine
Wishing we could turn back time
High off of nickels’ and dimes
Making moves to boost your grind looking for hope
But the hustle got us in a head choke
Don’t blame me for acting crazy cause this how the streets made me and you
To watch our back and throw bows and cuss
Cause you got to be tough when times are rough
I know your asking when will enough be enough
And truth is I don’t know but this is how it goes down
But if I make it out will you smile for me now
So many families struggling with poverty
I don’t judge cause that use to be me
Watching mom come home late
Barley any food on our plate
So young and life we already hate
Praying God bring us something great
My clothes were cheap imitates and kids called you on them for being fake
Knowing mom bust her ass to provide
But all your knock offs you begin to hide
Ashamed of what you own
I know how you feel I been there too
I see mothers walking there kids to school
And the walk is far when you cant afford a car
Mom hoping one day you’ll be a star
I know about being next to poor
Your local neighborhood liquor market is your grocery store
Wishing you didn’t have to go through that living off of food stamps
Cube the neighborhood is a trap but we’ll all be free
So smile for you and me
Even 2pac said smile for me
This isn’t how its always going to be unless you let it be
In our different way we’re all a G
Cause we’re trying to make it straight legit
Whatever your hustle never quit but don’t lose yourself in it
Cause you still got a long ways to go
Still got a long time to grow
Use what you know to get by or you wont survive
Remember to always keep your dreams alive
Whatever it is just do it and never try
The limit is the sky so keep your heads held high
And when you come to a hard road just always know nothing can keep you down
You’ll be able to come back around
So give yourself a chance
And I’ll smile for you now