Memories of those who passed,
fading faces in the mist.
The ruddy flesh of the youth,
Who have just been first kissed!
The old schoolhouse still stands,
the students are all ghosts.
Those I didn't think I'd miss,
are some I miss the most!
Tyrone and sweet Jessica,
oh how we laughed and cried.
Then sometime last December,
I heard his sweetheart died!
The drama we call our lives,
disappointment and pain.
But then there are the nice times,
like the sun after rain!
For life is but a pan's flash,
with barely enough time.
To finish what we came for,
and then get home by nine~!
date: 02/03/23
They were Lilly Whites from Kildare,
And Boggers from County Clare,
Herring Gutters from Donegal
And Dubliner Jackeens.
They were Goat Suckers, Slaneysiders,
Magpies and Rossies.
They were Kellys, and Murrays,
O’Carrols, and Moores,
They were Campbells, MacMurphys, and Dunns.
One claimed he’s from the Hill of Tara,
Another, from Tyrone among the brush.
They came for the work on the Schuylkill Canal.
They came for the work on the railway.
They came for the love of those lonesome Colleens
They left at the dockside in Derry.
They worked and they drank,
And they gambled and swore,
And they prayed for the saints’ intercession.
A few sought the balm of a comforting whore,
Then mumbled their sins at confession.
They offered their immigrant muscle and sweat,
Like Hercules hard at his labors,
And carved out the tunnels and fashioned the locks
That helped build their grandchildren’s nation.
The bills are doubled, my rent is due, my body aches I got the blues.
My car is wrecked, my son need shoes; what a day to have the blues.
My man is gone; I feel so alone. Now that I'm married; I can't call Tyrone.
Oh me, oh my; what am I to do?
This day, today I got the blues.
Call on grandma, but that just ain't right.
What about momma; you know she's tight.
Lord knows I got the blues tonight.
The preacher said, "in times like these; in prayer is where
we should be. I'm calling you Jesus, "HELP ME PLEASE".
Take this burden, for it's too heavy for me.
T Rex - a compendium
I asked the T Rex why he looked rather glum
He said I’ve this lovely sharp claw on my thumb
But life's such a b.itch
My butt’s got an itch
And I simply can’t reach my own bum
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
T Rex gave his lady a peck
She said honey please kiss my neck
He liked her all right
So he gave a love bite
And that’s when her head hit the deck
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Jurassic Park was too dear for us
We snuck in dressed all ‘stegosaurus’
We’re now not sure whether
That idea was clever
That T Rex ain’t gonna ignore us
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Tyrone was a tyrannosaurus
Who fancied a big brontosaurus
Her name was Gillian
Their love was reptilian
The details are too sordid for us
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
He hunted that Jurassic coast
For the primeval prey he loved most
The sky overhead
Went fiery red
Alas pretty soon he was toast
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Fish
I am cheesy.
I am straightforward, dead inside, tired, and sarcastic.
Brother of Tyrone.
Lover of nothing, no one, and nobody.
Who feels hatred for this poem, smooth, and closed.
Who fears showing emotion, socialization, and girls.
Who would like to see the world end, a brand new Ps4 that’s for him, and food.
Resident of 3401 Mustang Way, Hemet, CA 92545.
I am a fish.
Tyrone and the Black Dog
Tyrone was a young man;
He wanted to have fun.
He was from a seedy part of town;
But he didn’t own a gun.
"Black dog quit your growling,
Don’t come around here anymore.
I got no use for black dogs,
Quit scratching at my door".
Tyrone could throw a football;
Best in all the land.
They promised him a scholarship
And a bucket load of fans.
Black dog he comes creeping,
When they turn out the lights;
And for a Girl named Brenda
Tyrone decides to fight.
Nobody knows who fired the shot;
But oh, his Momma Cried.
When the hopes of all a family.
Fell in the dirt and died.
Children killing children;
It has gone on way to long;
"Black dog what’s your purpose?
Everybody knows you’re wrong".
The Wall
No Future is the worst and so,
I’ll dream of places I will go,
Fantasies are for such as I,
Facing the wall, the wall.
Tomorrow I’ll drive to California,
Oh, the flivver’s old but full of gas,
What’s stopping you? You say.
The wall, that blooming wall wall.
I will fly over the Himalayas,
And think of Tyrone Power,
The peeking little snow flowers,
Oh, but yes, there’s that d---- wall, the wall.
Filled with the wanderlust,
Gotta get outa town or bust,
No one will have to know, but then
There’s the wall, the wall.
Memory, it takes me to years back,
When you protected us from the dark,
These tears for you I roll,
While my phone gallery I scroll,
Staring at the pictures imagining of course,
How elegant we pose with you in the back rows,
Holding our hands, a big happy family,
Having no idea you would leave us finally,
Concerned for our future, you took us to school,
So as to learn life's golden rule,
Now we struggle to keep up,
Care and love we had drifts, because of the gap,
We've forgotten your teachings on brotherhood,
As we concentrate to create ourselves a livelihood,
You now have twelve grandchildren,
(Junior, Leon, Ryan, Ian, Andy, Tyrone,
Grandpa, Hermes, Grandy, Queen, Nolarn,
Lowell Jabilo, Jakarungu, Mama and Fadhili)
I myself still have none,
Still your lineage has really expanded,
The 'Buore's', the name we've branded,
Barbecue Love
I grilled your dreams
Burnt your hopes
Singed your expectations
Set your life ablaze
I fed you charred hopes
Which gave you indigestion
The result was constipated love
Which could only be healed
By a laxative name Tyrone
Tyrone picked up the pieces
Of your broken heart
Put them together
And made you whole again
Now I am left with ashes
Wishing you'd come home
A kiss, A Whip They spit, I hit this is the life that I do not wish
a scar on my face disgrace can someone bring me a can of mace
A large tattoo on my back I hide behind bars pleading my case about my race
It's like I took the abuse for years in fear of the future on no not wanting to be alone
Addiction
My fear ,my tears, I'm writing this letter oh dear
Can someone help take me away from this unknown desire
Wanting to reach higher and higher my soul is hanging a wire
an addiction
to this demon inside in which I hide
asking me to abide by the rules a fool this not so cool
I shall die a illusionists full of lust getting ready to bust
tasting like an old piece of pie crust made by a Illusionists a bliss
I am at the point where I can't handle
this
an addiction
so today I pray. my god save my soul today
hooray so I don't dig my self in a deeper grave unto the darkness unknown
calling Tyrone please call home
I moan and groan I am out of my zone
can you reason can you here my tone with my tone
I want you to remember this stop think and quit this MESS
God will take care of the rest
stop
the addiction
Brenda is pretty, Brenda is sweet
She’s not very big, in fact she’s petite.
Brenda’s creative, now that’s a surprise
She has a good wit and has opened my eyes.
She’s cruel to a point,, my blunder she extols,
The trouble I have with some toilet rolls.
They roll from my waistband and not from the holder
Tyrone only noticed when he looked over my shoulder.
The last time I saw her she was just a scrubber
Now what example is that, and her a grandmother.
her husband walked into the room, her bottom he could see
Sticking up in the air, but where was she?
He rushed to the oven, the door open wide
And there was Brenda kneeling inside.
Brenda my love he cried ... I’m sorry whatever
Take your head out the oven and I’ll make it better.
What are talking about she cried and removed her head,
The scrubbing brush in hand she looked at him and said.
This is the cupboard I’m giving a scrub
The ovens electric and it would do no good.
Thanks goodness for that he said in relief,
The meters being read and I don’t want the grief.
The cupboard is clean for when the grandson arrives
We need somewhere to put him, so we can survive.
GG 2012