Like all my siblings, I dropped from my mother's crown, oh, about twenty years ago now
Fortunately, though a tough nut to crack, I eventually poked my green head up out of the ground
Turns out that I'm a tree, an Eastern Black Walnut to be exact, or Juglans nigra to be super exact
Now, nearly thirty feet tall, I can feel I've slowed down in growth some, normal for us black walnuts
If I keep my roots, and that pesky walnut caterpillar doesn't find me, I should double my height
My leaves are busy factories turning sunlight, water, and carbon dioxide into life sustaining oxygen
You humans love the pungent taste of my healthy fruit and use it in a slew of your culinary delights
They tell me studies show that the antioxidants I host are beneficial for human medicinal purposes
That chocolate wood I lumber around is top notch for constructing beautiful, long lasting furniture
So whatever our destiny may be, dresser, medicine, or tree, us black walnuts will always stand tall
I met a puzzle and conundrum.
His name is "Why Am I Becoming Dumb",
A diabolically a tough nut to crack,
both he and I are poised for attack.
I'm pretty sure I'll crack him, but
he thinks that it's I who is the nut.
I am young, a tough nut,
hard to crack.
Thick mud splashes half-blind me.
Bones are jostled, pushed into aching flesh.
I am spun around and dumped,
lifted up shoved back in.
A pummeled nose bleeds into my mouth,
stagger, run, beaten down by panting hulks,
heave myself to my knees. arms thrashing, finding
bodies to bruise. Chasing through cold air
stunned, brained, swapping pain thud for thud,
ear bashing clubs, yell for more, hack
and flay one sprained ankle dragging behind
a black and blue knee, plod on through the mire.
Limp away damaged and done.
Rugby is not for wimps.
We used to hold hands in public all the time,
not so much now.
You sometimes try holding my hand
out in the open.
I feel dorky with your hand in mine – sorry.
I hate the thought that those that pass-by
see us as two cute oldies.
Cute was never the self-image I saw in my future.
I thought I would be forever a tough-nut,
keeping my cocksure swagger well oiled,
not this,
not downcast and grumbling like this.
Here I sit in prison in my 8 X 10 cell,
My own creation a living hell.
Racial tension is in the air,
Nothing about this is easy or fair.
The crime committed is getting high,
It’s illegal in the public’s eye.
The odds of paroling and not coming back,
You could say it’s a tough nut to crack.
You get to go home your out of the hole,
Slow down there you must report to parole.
When your there you piss in a cup,
Your parole officer says you better wise up.
If this is dirty, I’m taking your ass to jail,
Two weeks later back in prison in my 8 X 10 cell.
TURBO1904 OCT 31, 2021
Does money buy happiness? Tough nut to crack.
When people are asked this, they’re taken aback.
But there's one thing I know
as I analyze dough:
unhappiness rises when moolah we lack.
We used to hold hands in public all the time,
not so much now.
You sometimes try holding my hand
out in the open.
I feel dorky with your hand in mine – sorry.
I hate the thought that those that pass-by
see us as two cute oldies.
Cute was never the self-image I saw in my future.
I thought I would be forever a tough-nut,
keeping my cocksure swagger well oiled,
not this,
not downcast and grumbling like this.
When we are not overlooked
I try to grab your hand.
You step aside turning your head away,
and I am sorry,
knowing this and understanding why.
When Thy Heart And Soul Have Both Been Fleeced
When thy heart and soul have both been fleeced
world shattered, thy hidden demons released,
canyons of whirling circles in night dreams
dark rules, no saving light left that redeems.
Life raped, your sanctuary invaded,
joy for epic pains were thus dark-traded
truth is, Hope has yet to be defeated,
shall not be, if Love is not ill-treated.
Look up! Bright sun still shines upon thy head
Spring is golden, gleaming roses are red,
world kicked hard but races on as before
lift thy head, open eyes, walk through that door.
When all is said and done, know this reward
greater that gift when life faced was so hard.
Robert J. Lindley, 9-15- 1979
Sonnet, ( Tough Nut To Crack, When Has Been Fire Tested)
For those of us who have lost your hair
And feel embarrassed as a mudguard up there
The truth of the matter is simple to see
Just shave it off and grow a goatee
And you will look tough and hard as nails
Where when measuring up you wouldn’t fail
So cheer up you can look cool
By shaving it off and growing a goatee as the rule.
© Paul Warren Poetry
From a video I saw recently
You've always been a tough nut to crack
A rigid exterior, sharp and in tact
But you had a soft side, where I drew slack
I crawled inside and that was that
even to this day, you flinch at my touch
You don't like to say, "I love you" and such
But this is ok, I've learned with age
The world is a book. I'm only one page
It would be no fun if we were all the same
The matter is really simple to explain
Although your love is a different shape
It's still enough to fill my plate
It conforms to my heart as a heavy drape
Full of that, which makes love great
Drunk ******* thinking you’re hard
You couldn’t throw a punch you ***** ass retard
Your alcohol stench gob slurs and runs away with you
Just turn the volume down and tell me when you’re through
You’re full of vile tough nut ********
Just searching for the weak to hit
Yet another drink downed and in your mind the harder you become
Your timid tormented victims the brunt of your drunken fun
Big man ego doing it for cheers from the boys
Why don’t you go home lads and play with your toys
Because one day you’ll pick the wrong person
And you’ll be crying in piss puddles and puke that’s one thing for certain
a tough nut to crack
feelings that you keep intact
passion oozes past
graft, tough nut to crack
needs no less than strong molars
of social morals
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