I'll give you a hint.
I put a sock in it.
I wondered where it went.
It came out as lint.
Won't you tell me mister
if it is a washer?
Or may I inquire
if it is a dryer.
i guess it depends on the resonance the amplification
when i sang in the bedroom my father shrieked
put a sock in it and i remember reaching for
the pants drawer to find a pair, but i once did
turn away carol singers, but only after they'd
finished their warbling did i thank them and
slam it in their faces, i once called my
mother's friend, feigning to be the fire
brigade, and was aghast when she answered
i told her we were probing into fire alarms
the selling of them, if she was interested
at the school gates, she enumerated the
anecdote to my mother, who glared down
at me as i felt my face go ruby, but no matter
because i didn't succeed in selling a fire alarm
or selling anything, but my mother looked
perturbed when i waved and addressed the
postman, as he actually wasn't our postman
but his route took him to an aligned location
and it stopped just at our street, but no matter
because it would be the socialist workers party
at our door next, asking for subs and my dad
hit the roof, but amends was made when i
returned home without my mother's knowledge
surprised her as she began to weep behind the glass
our parents, all paths lead back to them
Off the bridge it goes into cold water
Carried down the angry river which raged away
One argyle sock looks like the other
Separated from the mate by accident
Despair turned into a missing pair
No more washer dryer cycles of life
Agitation tumbles forth
Takes a turn for the worst
Spills into ocean waves to foreign lands
Where a large bass or whale would swallow it
A fate that made no matter to the sock
It ended up in China in a fishing net
Where every part of a fish is eaten
Anything that moves is food
A mother put the sock before her son
In a soup it looks delicious
When the boy took a bite he cried
This tastes disgusting! It is too tough!
He tried some salt and pepper as dad suggested
Mom screamed, put a sock in it and eat it!
People are starving in countries other than our own
They call me gobby
I’m just all mouth
It’s like my hobby
You can call me ralph
I got some larrup
I don’t shut my trap
It’s like I gallop
This gift of the gab
I’ve got more mouth
Then you’ve got money
Hey my north and south
Got plenty of bunny
I can’t seem to shut
My flipping yap
And I do go on
Just rapping this flap
I’m a motor mouth
I love rock and roll
Got a great big house
Never shut my cakehole
You could call me stupid
I just ramble on
Playing my music
To my own selfish song
I’ve got to admit
That I am quite loud
And I give it some welly
With a great big sound
Well I better be quiet
Cause you know what they say
The mouth piece is trouble
So keep it closed today
“Put a Sock in It Will Ya”
© Copyright KC.Leake
4th December 2014
All Rights Reserved
it's illegal now to be a kid
no matter what, once, was did
no longer allowed, they now forbid
put a sock in it, slam down the lid
there was a time, that many know
when it wasn't so
and kids romped wildly, to and fro
from yard to wood to overflow
across the day, squealing joy
the privilege of the hoi polloi
no silvered girls or golden boys
everyone was the real McCoy
and played innocent because they were
devious played plans did not occur
because life was all a sharpened blur
of play day friends in all grandeur
now, many lament of days gone by
when innocence was a feast whereby
kids grew flying clear-blue sky
to adults who can't see eye to eye
in fact those times - they still are
no adieu uttered - no au revoir
no quench of light from brightened star
childhood's about being a kid, so far
so kids are kids the whole world over
L.A. to Bahrain to country farms all over
they can see a day, fresh with sweet clover
to roll in, an' play on, an' lose their composure
kids don't have to remember that life's fun
they naturally want to summersault and run
it's been that way since time had begun
and will always be, 'til all time, is all done
© Goode Guy 2013-04-15
I asked my kind, obliging doc
To scan my brain for writer's block.
His words I recall,
"There's nothing at all.
Your head is made of solid rock."
Blockhead
My ever loving mama, harshly said.
"You look more than a little over-fed.
Stop eating for a minute
And just put a sock in it.
Your mama didn't raise no dumb blockhead."
Sunblock
I went out strolling in my brand new frock,
While forgetting to wear a strong sunblock.
The sun came out, my skin turned red.
Started to chill and went to bed.
When my honey touched me, went into shock!
For Destroyer Poet's contest
YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME
For God’s sake, woman, you’ve been twittering away
There for hours and how often have I heard your story?. . . About a dozen:
“Oh, I should never have married you, me mother says. . . ”
“Oh me brother’s sooo wonderful and lives in a condo in Aspen. . . ”
And “Me sister’s expensive trip to Australia for the winter. . . “
Now shut the flock up or I will be forced to shut you up permanently.
Ok, baby, so here’s a sample. I’ve just had enough banter -
No more Mr Nice Guy. Put a sock in it or I’ll stick me foot in it none too gently.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written for Francine Roberts' Contest "enough!"