Best Cass Poems
Gemini met Cancer on a summer day
She quite frankly took his breath away
He thought things were done in male or pink
She showed him another way to think
She gave him a wink and came right over
It amazed him this Cancer named Tom C. Clover
Her name was Cass and she was full of sass.
Her charisma knocked him off his a……
He had always paid his bills on time, this Norse.
She thought it funny and quite stilly of course.
She taught him all kinds of different ways to think.
She showed him that not all women stay in pink.
He was thrown off his feed and immediately smitten.
She moved in with him, and brought her Siamese kitten.
His family could not believe how impulsive this was for him.
He had never done things this fast, not on a whim.
Cassie turned his life thoroughly upside down.
He realized he could never live again without her around.
He planned the wedding because she was too busy to do it.
She skipped down the aisle and laughed all the way through it.
Their union has lasted nigh onto sixty years.
His relatives died off, which annihilated their fears.
They have sixteen grandchildren and a great grand or two.
They have had a fabulous life, not a day that was blue.
//Bang bang//
//nothing but the blood of your homie is going through your mind//
//That's fine nothing but the blood of Jesus is going through mine//
//this is not just a line this is a design//
//you live in the hood//
// you think your a gangsta for good//
//you rob banks and shoot blanks//
//you think your big//
//you think your bad//
//but you can't even add//
//doesn't matter if your a blood or a crip//
//your in the same battleship//
//Your fight alongside Satan//
//doesn't give you light even when your eating bacon//
//you don't want to give up your lifestyle//
//even though your a juvenile//
//all you do is rob shops and Run from cops//
//why do you wanna live in fear//
//yell out its all clear//
// you can help people from repeating your past//
//they don't have to wear your cass//
//ask God to forgive you//
//now I just won the combative//
David slings a rock
Cop holsters a glock, Lizzie Borden packs an axe
Mac he packs the knife, Billy battles with a club, Tommy’s gun is a sub
Kelly’s got one too, Bazooka Joe Is Gum, Peter Gunn isn't,Colt45not malt
Nor is it a horse, horseshoes & handgrenades, canons have big balls, Doc
Holiday had TB Rock Hudson had HIV, James Dean crashes his car,Hank Williams crashes a bar, Natalie Wood don’t float, Cain killed his brother, Juliette drank poison for her lover, Rev. Jim Jones killed with cool-aid, Whitey Bulger he got paid,dead man walking gets to eat Rodney King
got beat, Cupid’s arrow as Clyde Barrow, Mama Cass choked on ham
57,000 gone in Nam, Four dead in Ohio, Kamikazes fall 1941, again
they fall 2001Iraqi leader with a rope, John Belushi too much dope,
Charles Manson is alive MichaelJackson isn’t,Saturday night special
is very ordinary, Fast and furious is the crime, Dick Clark just his
time Pirate victims walk the plank, THINK,
Next I’ll come rolling in a tank
Hear the whistle of my missile
Dirty Harry had the biggest
The Derringer is small
Smokey Bear forest fire
Greek funeral is a pyre
Too many +’s or -’s
Is electric surges
Woman and child
sing the dirges
Walking dead
Are zombies
Fat man and
Little Boy
Are atom
Bombies
“The New York Times” was this group’s original name.
Within two years, they were garnering fame.
Two women and three men sang in wonderful harmony
in clubs around Baltimore and Washington, DC.
Mama Cass Elliott was noted for their discovery.
She often joined them in a Mamas and Papas medley.
As their popularity continued to grow,
this group changed its name to “The Peppermint Rainbow”.
They were signed to the record label known as “Decca”.
Their first and only album was produced by Paul Leka.
The group’s one big hit was penned by Al Kasha.
The title to this 1968 hit was “Will You Be Staying After Sunday”.
This song went high up the charts in its day.
Although this gang is no longer around,
we can still hear their sunshine pop sound.
Thanks to wikipedia.org online encyclopedia and all music.com for information I obtained to write this poem.
Hungry for munchies, on his way to the lunchroom,
a rambunctious, persnickety,“fuss-budget”, elderly
jittery, fidgety, geezer, named Cassidy…
whose questionable dexterity, aghast by a massive sneeze,
teeter-tottered precariously.
at the edge of the thingamajig, ...jigging one way, jagging the other!
Minding his own beeswax, without any rigmarole,
topsy-turvy on his feet, he reached for the balustrade,
became quite flabbergasted, and very discombobulated
when the doohickey provided for his ambidextrous aid
jiggled free from its screws, and found him footloose!
It seemed the doo-dad, put there by some nitpicking pipsqueak,
some flat-footed, hooligan, who knew diddly-squat, who obviously,
recklessly, constructed a railing, only worthy for failing!
Such foolhardy shenanigans! Was it some practical joke
to lambaste aged codgers, eliminate lodgers, and boondoggle the old folks?
Cass, was an old rabble-rouser, considered a blabbermouth,
was thrown off his epicenter, while his cane went a'sailing, appendages flailing
Onlookers, were outraged, ....in stage of amazement
but laughs grew contagious, and cock-eyed hilarious!
Those carpetbagger carbuncles of society….can’t stop this old fogy
Cass, brushed off his hinny, would not be blind-sighted..
Barbaric bedevilment, won’t halt his felicity!
Some even predicted, with his acid tongue lashings, and his eccentric behavior,
he would stir up entanglement, kibosh the haranguers
and strangle the caboodles, who hooted and hollered!
His face turned beet red, but no meltdown,......instead
He held his chin high
to the dining room, ahead....he ordered French bread
Ordered some bouillabaisse, toasted with balderdash and a shot of rye
He dined with the multitudes, ordered some strudel, and one snicker-doodle
Then he told folks a riddle, "There was a man with a cane, who slipped on a noodle, a handrail came loose, he injured his caboose….and cooked his goose!"
.....................................................
There was a lady named Cass
Who on her deathbed passed gas
Respecting the dead
All stayed close to the bed
Hoping it would be her last
Extra weight no longer a problem for shallow water,
We bulked up for the next leg of our journey,
Water containers, even some canned goods
An acceptable luxury in our seventeen foot canoe,
A canvas topping lashed everything in securely,
Offered some weather proofing for sensitive gear,
Our sleeping bags, some staples, and clean clothing.
Cameras were kept in waterproof pouches
That stayed within easy reach of paddlers,
Fishing rods and car mounts for the canoe,
In case we burned out, topped the load,
With ice chest and Dr. Peppers easily accessible.
In high spirits we set out on the next leg,
Destination Cass Lake's Boy's Camp Chippewa.
I had traveled this leg before as a twelve year old,
By canoe, but with less luxury, until Bemidji,
Where each of our crew went to a late movie,
And downed a Paul Bunyan Special banana split
One banana and seven scoops of ice cream,
Camp four miles across open water long after dark,
With only a fire on a distant shore to guide us home. (4)
Poet's Notes:
(4) People die pulling stunts like this. In fact strong winds arose forcing us to shore shortly after we started, light rain and lightning flashes high in the sky! We had to pull our canoes wading in the dark along the shore for 3 hours to reach our camp. Our counselors pledged us all to secrecy for they would have been fired had management known the danger they put us all in.
'Camp Chippewa, ' its tennis and rifle range, X-Class sailing,
And classic 'Old Town' canvas covered wooden canoes,
Not the low-class aluminum canoes of a 'Camp Thunderbird.'
Cass Lake - garden of the Mississippi's hidden currents,
Nature's setting for Star Island's fresh blue berry thickets,
Brisk, though swimmable waters, still safe to drink.
Cass Lake - child of the first dam, city sewage dumped below.
Kathy and I were warmly received by Chippewa's staff,
And given a hot meal and tour by the owner's son.
Though it was too early for the new season's initiates,
The rustic setting and friendly staff made us feel at home.
Early afternoon found us approaching the dam's spillway,
Though Kathy thought me crazy, we unloaded the canoe,
And I paddled it alone through the one open gate, YAAHOO! !
How many dreams can you remember coming true?
This whole trip was a waking dream, a gift for me,
Including having a wife who was willing to share it.
Miles of river already, dust shaken from our gunnels,
Adventures of the days to come hanging like a white sheet
Strung between trees in an unwired, impoverished village,
Only imagination powers the projector of what can be. (7)
Poet's Notes:
(7) This wonderful image is the child of an experience from my American Peace Corps experience in East Africa. Once a month a VW Van would show up in even the most remote villages and they would hang up a white sheet across ‘main street' and show ‘free' older movies to the locals like ‘Tarzan, The Ape Man.' Villagers thought that Tarzan was quite a funny, if stupid guy. You don't talk to monkeys you eat them! Of course, then, between every reel, there would be ten minutes of hard core advertising for everything from toothpaste to cigarettes to alcohol and always girls hanging on the arm of the man buying these products! I always assumed that advertisers paid for these monthly films but I do not know that to be true.
When I was growing up, my Dad
had some quaint old fashioned notions
of what a good girl should or shouldn’t do.
I didn’t want to make him sad
I tried so hard to please him.
But dear old Daddy didn’t have a clue.
Sometime I slipped a little and
I’d hear my daddy say.
“My sisters Cass and Annie
would never act that way.
They never would have cut their hair.
To wear those shorts they wouldn’t dare.
If our pa caught them, they would rue the day.
They might not listen to their ma,
but they could not bamboozle Pa.
So change your clothes or in the house you’ll stay.”
I tried to be so very good and make my Daddy proud.
I always did just as I should and nothing not allowed.
I wondered what my aunts had done to have a little fun.
He told me what they hadn’t but never what they’d done.
And then when I was older, my brother took a wife.
He raised a little daughter, the treasure of his life.
The other day she told me how her dad would always say
“My sisters Joyce and Gladys
would never act that way.”
She said she’d hated us a lot
and wondered how much fun we got
from always being so darned good
and always acting like we should.
I laughed so hard at what she had to say.
“You might not listen to your ma,
But you cannot bamboozle Pa,
So change your clothes or in the house you’ll stay.”
She’d tried hard to be so good, to make her daddy proud
but he just never understood, some things were now allowed.
It was all right to cut your hair,
Lipstick and shorts were fine to wear,
and that she had such perfect aunts just wasn’t fair.
I told her she would have her turn
when her own niece would have to learn
the first time that she heard her Daddy say,
“My sister Bonnie didn’t act that way.”
For Leighann Anderson's contest "Free For All"
Bill Dyer
Here lies the crisp remains of Chef Bill Dyer
Tumbled head first into a deep fat fryer.
Carlos De Rava
The statue on this grave is of Carlos De Rava
Fell in taking pictures of fast flowing lava.
Alfred. J. Clark
Buried in this grave is the left foot of Alfred. J. Clark
It was all they could find when they cut open a shark.
Joe
In this grave lies poor Joe who was very short sighted
Stick of dynamite instead of a cigar was what he ignited.
David. T. Murrey
In this crypt is just the head of David. T. Murrey
No one attended his funeral because he had no-body.
Jonathan Cass
The mirth you can hear in this grave is of Jonathan Cass
Was smoking a cigarette whilst making laughing gas.
Written on 20th November 2022
From a flowing brook,
with soft blades of grass.
I see an unfamiliar mass.
I look deeper in the cass.
It appears to be my task.
To awaken this tiny past.
What is it that floats
up from the glass?
I see it now a tiny little mass.
It is an infant grasp.
Now and forever I hold
this tiny mass.
For my soul does feel
this solid past,
while I hold this tiny little mass.
Feeling well within my arms,
as I sway from swing to swing.
It is my soft blade of grass,
that holds this tiny little mass.
And sing and sing my love for thee.
Your smiling face winks back at me.
I am the Queen who pulled you
from the brook,
And named you Moses.
An everlasting blade of grass,
I'll be your mother until time
pass.
And you my son will be
the King of Egypt for me.
Jimi Hendrix-Played electric guitar with his teeth and left hand
Ripped through scales, held notes, used flames on stage on command
Janis Joplin- Rolling Stone—Her cover enthralling ”Me And Bobby Magee”
Mezzo-soprano vocals and an "electric" stage presence that’ll ever be
Mama Cass- Of "The Mamas And Papas" Singer Alto—perfect pitch
“California Dreamin” rumor she choked on a ham sandwich
Mama Cass was in the club too
but kicked her out because she was 32!
Jim Morrison- “L.A. Woman” His presence quite a sight to see
The Doors, his band, Jim’s buried in a famous Paris cemetery
Amy Winehouse- Jazz singer—her deep, expressive contralto vocals
New York bluesy new Motown sound, knew she’d die young say the articles
Kurt Cobain-Modern day Rock Icon died
lead singer & guitarist of Nirvana, by suicide
Although rumor has it was Courtney Love
Kurt’s death meant he joined the fabled 27 club
A few of “The 27 Club” Rock Stars that rocked me!
A dormant sadness erupts in me when their songs are played
Rock Stars are noted for their high-risk lifestyles
Admissions free—no cover charge!
You know you are like a music beat in a silent night on the Shore,
where Only the sound of the waves is heard.
You are so amazing beautifully,
like the sunrise in the morning that colour the world after a Dark night.
And you are so balance like the rain,
that give life to everything.
And your scent is thousand flowers of Buckingham palace gardens,
and your thoughts are like the billion stars in the sky, so different, so unregular, but so Magic,
when you understand that life explode thanks to them in the universe.
Your eyes are oceans, and seas,
and lakes and rivers,
and your body the perfect mixture between green fields and white mountain.
And your voice is so sensual like the warm wind of the morning,
that warms hearts and caress thoughts.
You are so shiny, so amazing and so faboulous,
that the universe even if it want cannot create another identical you.
You are all the forces of the universe together in one person.
You are amazingly YOU, Cass!
The late Canadian singer Denny Doherty
led three others in a popular melody.
"Monday, Monday" went high up the music charts.
This catchy tune won many sixties hearts.
When Denny was joined with Cass, John, and Michelle,
this harmonizing quartet performed quite well.
Millions loved "California Dreamin'", "Creeque Alley", and the rest.
However, "Monday Monday" turned out to be their best.
We all had homemade dresses for prom; well, nearly all of us.
This was back in 1970 while black and white Viet Nam War photos were on TV
Every night, we saw such sadness.
Prom was a reminder of childhood.
Back to the Bibbity Bobbity Boo of Cinderella.
We girls were wearing empire waist dresses.
It was the style, little bows at the top of our hair.
We were fancy poodles, primping in our two inch heels.
Not high ones like our mothers. We had already fallen off those.
Traded in our hip hugger bell bottoms that magical night
For dresses in chiffon, polished cotton, and satins.
We were so shiny, it is a miracle a murder of crows did not carry us off.
The boys had on their best suits; not tuxes.
We were in a small Iowa farm town.
Many of the couples would marry two weeks later after graduation.
I remember how hard the junior class worked to make it beautiful for us.
There were tin foil stars and crepe paper streamers everywhere.
A strobe light, and music piped in from the folk heroes of the time.
Peter Paul and Mary, Mama Cass, Simon and Garfunkel.
Sometimes a song by Cher or Bette Midler but not as often.
The food was fantastic. The company wonderful.
Our first semi-formal dinner. I have never forgotten it.
In one way it was like middle school which we called junior high.
The boys stood around talking and laughing, and the girls danced like mad.
It was such an innocent and fun time! Taking the Viet Nam War,
And the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, Robert Kennedy and Dr. Martin Luther King
Out of our minds for one magical bibbity bobbity boo night.
May 1970. A memory that uplifts me to this day.
The last time I spoke to some of my classmates.
As a few were sent to Viet Nam after graduation never to return.