Best Butch Poems
My dear brother Butch,
Hair are the highlights of my week:
I got a job at the Hairway to Heaven salon!
Our motto: "We color your hair or dye trying"
When the interviewer said "I mustache you a question..."
I answered, "May I mullet over?"
Seriously, working there is a shear delight,
with some nice fringe benefits
They're a real cut above the rest
and I shave a lot of money on hair products...
I bought Dad a comb for Father's Day… I bet he'll never part with it
It is a long drive to the salon, but now I know all the short cuts
Oh hey, I know hair-growth seminars are not your style, but
call up your receding hairline buddies and comb on over!
It was great to see you last week, you are looking so trim!
I still feel terrible about the curling iron incident…
You can rest a-sheared I'll straighten it out
but I mussed warn you, you might get fro straighted
Just remember, $15 for a hairpiece is a small price toupée
You may not like short hair at first, but it will grow on you
...that's the mane thing
Did you hear Mom and Dad had a brush with death?
It was a very hairy situation with a real twist:
buzzing down the highway at a decent clip
someone tried to cut them off
Mom was ready to wig out, curl up and dye, but thankfully
Dad went to great lengths to avoid an accident
so there was no permanent damage
you had to see it to be-weave it
Ok, time for a couple of jokes to lighten the mood:
How does the man on the moon trim his hair?
Eclipse.
Why did Pavlov have such fabulous looking hair?
Conditioning.
Why do felines groom with their tongues?
They can't find their catacombs.
Why did the little girl watch "Black Stallion" more than "Babe"?
She liked pony tales more than pig tales.
What was the barber's sign before he went on vacation?
"Hair today, gone to Maui"
Did you hear about the novelty store selling fake piles of dung?
It was sham poo.
Just teasing!
Take hair,
Curly
i narrate me own story in a fake english accent. the bloody typewriter is
broken, it can't capitalize. i'm out of coins for the heater. i can see me own
breath. it must be really bad . it's summer here in london. i'm a tough guy who
carries a gun. don't mean i don't want to look good. i freshen up my lipstick,
light up a cigarette and offer one to my secretary. she is hot really hot.
like i said it's summer. she don't wear lipstick it wouldn't help. in the
encyclopedia under the word butch is her picture.
i put out my cig in an ashtray overflowin. i'd tell her to empty it but she scares me.
she only wears one gold earring. who does that? i'm workin on a case, already
drank half the beers. by the way i'm a dick a private dick. the name is rock,
rock hard. there's a knock at the door. this could be bad she has two fourty fives,
she's also got a gun.
she's holding an airline ticket. no reason. she says she just likes it.
whatever! maybe it has to do with some kind of contest.
she says we're going for a ride. we are driving when she gets a flat.
i pump she pumps then we get out of the car and fix the flat. never liked
cars, horses are more convenient. less breakdowns. she takes us to a
party everyone is jumpin for joy, so joy gets up and leaves. bet you wish
this was going somewhere. it's not. like i said i'm a dick.
11~28~2014
Contest: Chopped III
Sponsor: craig cornish
Today it’s Sally’s birthday party; she’s the star of the show
She’s a lovely little girl and all her friends are invited to go
They arrive on the doorstep with presents in their hand
Wearing their best clothes, oh don’t they look so grand
Excited children are entertained by Coco the clown
She’s jolly person but her face wears a sad frown
Coco blows up balloons and amazing animals are created
The children clutch them eagerly; they simply are elated
The dining table is laden with glorious treats
Sandwiches, crisps, cakes and biscuits to eat
Sally’s birthday cake is shaped like a cute little cat
Cats are her favourite animal; her kitten is called Pat
The children sing ‘happy birthday’ and Sally makes a wish
Her mum cuts up the pretty cake and serves it on a dish
After tea is over a magician arrives to entertain
He’s called The Great Suprendo but it’s not his real name!
The magician does lots of magic tricks, the children think he’s ace
When he produces a fluffy rabbit they have a smile on their face
Soon the party is over and its time for the children to go home
Sally had a wonderful time but now she’s sad as she’s now alone
Secretly hiding in the kitchen is the Great Suprendo
He gives her the rabbit, her shrieks of delight reach a crescendo!
Mummy and daddy had planned this birthday surprise
Sally is so happy that tears spring into her eyes
Daddy had made the rabbit a wooden rabbit hutch
Sally is overjoyed, and names her pet rabbit Butch
Contest: The Birthday Party
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
01~31~16
Third day on her honeymoon
Sharon asks Butch what it's like
for a man before he gets married.
A bricklayer by trade,
and a man of few words,
Butch doesn’t know what to say
but he knows Sharon has always
liked to go bowling; in fact,
that’s how this odd couple met.
So he tries an analogy although
he doesn’t know it’s an analogy.
From age 12 on, Butch tells her, he
always felt like he had a bowling ball
in his pants; that was a problem.
He couldn’t find pants to fit.
When he became a man he joined
bowling leagues, three or four, and
went bowling as often as he could.
Then Butch tells Sharon he met her
and knew he had to quit bowling
having found a lane of his own.
Donal Mahoney
Dear Santa Claws, for Christmas I’d like a new chew bone; I’ve been a real good dog this year; I don’t even bite the cat, Sheba, when she attacks my head, as I sleep and that’s not easy to do since Sheba has put a lot of holes in my head. I’d also like some medicine for it.
Please bring me a new bed too, as mine reeks of cat urine; Sheba peed on it 5 times last week, while Mommy and me were at the park.
As far as cats go, Sheba is OK but, I wish she’d stop eating all of my treats. Please bring her some of her own. Oh and one of those catnip mice she’s so crazy about, it puts her to sleep for a long time and that’ll give me a chance to play with my own toys, for a change.
Mommy could use a new winter scarf too; Sheba keeps shredding’em with her claws; she really hates anything that has fringe. It gets really ugly to watch. It’s a good thing that I’m such a good dog; otherwise I’d bite Sheba in half when she destroys things…(Does she know how lucky she is…I doubt it.)
If it’s not asking too much, can I also get a new bag of jerky treats? Also one of those neat colored rope bone toys? I love the way the ends tickle my nose when I play with it. The one you bought last year; Sheba tore it up, mistaking the stringy ends for Mommy’s scarf fringe.
You can have my last jerky treat when you come, if you want. That is, if Sheba hasn’t eaten it yet. You can also have some of my water if you’re thirsty but, please be careful not to, leave your face fur in it. Last year I almost choked to death on a piece of it. If you’d like, you can have my last pig ear too. I know all of that work in one night probably gives you a powerful appetite. (Sheba hates pig ears so I doubt she’ll mess with it.) Thanks Santa.
Sincerely,
Butch, The Dog
PS: Be careful flying Santa, there’s some new creature out flying around; his name is “Drone” and he drinks, I think ‘cause he fell last weekend and just missed my head.
Eddie, could not have had a father better than you.
Think of all the places you took him, including to the zoo.
It’s mind blowing for me, to just count the hours,
That you spend at baseball,(I am glad for you.when it showers!)
You’re teaching him the Christian life that many Fathers, sadly do not.
And, thus I chose this picture to show the love you and Eddie have got.
Your love of baseball and teaching him I think he’s really quite hot!
So I am just popping in to say, Butch, that you have a very happy Father’s Day.
And I just know that everything is coming with many blessings..your way!
Love, Pangie aka Nana
6/18/2023
Dedicated to Butch, my outstanding Son-In-Law!
Her bony fingers stroked my hair,
I shuddered at the icy touch,
And when I turned no one was there.
I felt the hatred of her stare,
My heart was frozen in its clutch,
Her bony fingers stroked my hair.
I’d walked into the open snare,
My curiosity too much,
And when I turned no one was there.
I stood alone inside her lair,
The murdered prostitute was Dutch,
Her bony fingers stroked my hair.
The room was full of such despair,
I tried to flee but dropped my crutch,
And when I turned no one was there.
How stupid was the double dare,
I’d suffer now for playing butch,
Her bony fingers stroked my hair,
And when I turned no one was there.
For Paula's Unease contest
Like a leprechauns butch haircut,
the daffodils pierce
March’s maple blanketed bed.
Hidden gold at the end of a spring rainbow.
was sitting in a crowd but felt so all alone
No communication, everyone staring at their phone
I just wanted to return to the life that I had tasted
No more electronic robots, I guess I'm technology wasted
Back to Bobbi socks and bobbi pins
Big hellos and happy grins
Culottes an pedal pushers, Friday night dances
Back seat in the drive in, teenage romances
At the amusement park in the penny arcade
Ferris wheel rides and pink lemonade
Walk hand in hand, sometimes act like a fool
Talk to each other as you carry her books home from school
Up in the balcony with your hands on her hips
New worlds to discover, lips touching lips
Yelling from the sidewalk can Jim come out to play
Riding down a hill while standing on a sleigh
Hanging from monkey bars, climb a tree in the park
Playing ball in the street until it was dark
Roasting potatoes on a campfire at night
Running and laughing while flying a kite
The smell of a bakery with bread baking at dawn
Lying in the grass, transistor radio on
Cotton candy at the County Fair
Butch wax or Brylcreem to train your hair
Flying high on a swing and then jumping down
Medicine show at the end of town
Picking blueberries for grandma's pies
Watching Old Yeller with tears in your eyes
At the drug store for a burger and shake
Skimming stones across the lake
Hot dogs and hamburgers on the old grill
Chase tag, hop scotch and King of the hill
Hang at the diner everyday after school
Meeting your friends at the community pool
Yes, take me back where talk wasn't a crime
Take me back to a simpler time
For all this complexity. I don't give a damn
Technology wasted is what I am.
The Badlands
Can you see what they’re lookin’ at or
Hear what they say?
Maybe they’re stoppin’ to take time to pray.
Could they know the ending is near?
Fate may have brought them a measure of fear.
We’ve followed them far and seen what they’ve done –
And now we see them, here on the run.
They don’t want to give up -
It don’t seem likely they will.
And the scene here around us
Brings an ominous chill.
They’ve rode these badlands
Much longer than we -
And they can observe things
We never see.
I can’t help but wonder what history will see,
When this scene is painted by pure destiny.
What if we hunted them as long as we did?
Then, we became hunted by Butch and The Kid?
Author’s Note: Based on the painting “Cowboys in the Badlands”
By Thomas Eakins and entered in PSoup contest sponsored by
Isaiah Zerbist
9/16/14
My very best friend is a lesbian,
not bisexual, she is not at all attracted to men.
There is nothing butch about her, she is absolutely stunning.
When I look at her I often wish that I was a lesbian,
but our friendship is built on the foundation,
of us always verbally abusing each other more times than none.
When we first met, picking her up was my intention,
before I discovered she was a lesbian.
"Listen pretty boy," she said to me,
"I think you're a great guy but not at all for me.
I know that you'll find someone one day
who will make you very happy,
but this is never going to happen sweetie. It's not you, it's me."
"Whoa! Hold your horses there Annie Oakley,
did you just "It's not you, it's me," to me?!
Let me tell you something my little curious honey,
I created "It's not you, it's me," so please,
don't even try to feed me lies about being a lesbian to me.
You wouldn't believe how many times,
women feed me that tired old "I'm a lesbian" lie,
I average about a dozen of those women every week at the very least,
just be honest with me, just answer me truthfully,
what did I do wrong, why am I not your kind of guy?"
She gave me a pity kiss, and then told me this,
"I'm not attracted to you because your genitals are on the outside,
I Am Not Attracted To Men! I AM A Lesbian!
IT REALLY ISN'T YOU, IT'S I!..
"Well, can I call you," I asked, "and keep giving it a shot?"
Anguished, she grabbed me by my collar, her temper raging hot,
then smiled and winked at me and said, "Sure, why not."
.. and ever since then we have been the best of friends,
verbally abusing the hell out of each other over and over again,
but whenever a crisis in my life does occur,
I honestly don't know what I would do without her.
I'll be talking more about my lesbian friend,
every so often, now and again.
In the fall of "59 we played our best...
That was the year we were better than the rest.
Brooks and Richard always led the way...
And John and Butch were there to play.
Campbell and Bailey were on the ends that year...
And with a line like ours Billy never had a fear.
Farley and Bill, great tackles were they...
And Wayne was a great guard-that's what all our
opponents had to say.
Doug and Steve, boy could they run...
In the fall of "59 didn't we have fun?
We had great coaches that year, no one can deny...
Coach Jim, coach John and coach Gainer- they made
us reach for the sky.
We had a team that was really fine...
That was our team in the fall of "59.
WE won all our games and finished number one in the state..
And for all of us who played the fall of "59 will always be a special date.
TK<
Having decided on eggs and toast for breakfast, I sat, chewing vigorously, mindlessly trying to come up with a decent topic for some poetry. Nothing came to me, so, using the excuse that a poem can be written about anything at all, I decided on Eggs and Such. I fear the breakfast was better than my poetry. daver
12 big eggs
11 white one brown
a dirty dozen
3 large eggs
two whole one cracked
claw-like protrusion
butch egg
interrogated
cracked spilled his guts
hen house clamor
shotgun blast
wiley’s last heist
two over-easy
with bacon toast
mamma for dinner
easter chicken
delivers jelly beans
rabbit raisins
[In High School, this took place].
The White Boy said (excuse my French), if I fall in love with V’lena, I would be a
buffoon.
V’lena stated if I denied my love for Butch, I would be a damn fool.
At once, both responded you are a racist.
{These are all lines from my Senior Play}.
Indifference
The Title
______________________________|
Penned on May 24, 2014!
What can a bewildered brotha’ say,
it happens every unnatural day
Sunshine is labeled as shade,
crystal clear is called opaque fade
Did I make a left turn
into the wrong dimension?
Now I’m seeing curvaceous things
that Nana never mentioned
Me rearview mirror eyes are
side-swipe swivel swerve widening
Was there a hot-iron cool downgrade,
firebrand placed
on my Ocho Rios dreadlock upbraids?
Puff kings are turning into drag queens ...
strange flesh doings,
I-and-I now be-be first-hand witnessing
Boys are turning into girls,
and those goatee girlz are turning into scrotum women
Lord knows,
I feel like I’m living in
Sodom and Gomorrah again
Girls are turning into boys,
and those bosom boyz are turning into vulva men
Now, I’m not for sight sure,
just what glassy gaze starry eyes blurry,
rest beyond the dress curtain
Surprises a-plenty are in store,
when it’s uncertain
what’s behind the gender door
Don’t wanna make the wrong turn,
and roll into the surreal fifth dimension
Twilight Zone neon strip is on burn,
whatcha’ see
might require psychiatric intervention
Girls are turning into boys,
and those boyz are turning into Venus men
Lord knows,
I feel like I’m Sin City living in
ancient Egypt Greece again
Boys are turning into girls,
and those girlz are turning into Mars women
Puff kings are turning into drag queens ...
strange flesh doings
It’s an open-closet psychotropic skin scene
Another brother daisy duke
exhale exigent cross-dress pollination
Pubic bramble bush adolescent tumble,
take a different genitalia turn from
a same sister butch duchess
Boys are turning into girls,
and those girlz
are turning into testosterone women
Lord knows,
I feel like I’m Zion living in
Babylon Rome again
Girls are turning into boys,
and those boyz
are turning into estrogen ova men
Momma drag queens
are the former Daddy puff kings
Nothing on the surface is
quite biological what it seems
Id feelings of a sorrowful kind,
have me heart sprout creeping ivy
of eunuch tear yearning
for a Garden of Eden spiritual awakening
And impotent thoughts of mine
are starting to grow
down below, in-between