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Best Poems Written by Chad Obrien

Below are the all-time best Chad Obrien poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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I'M Just a Pig

I am a pig, and that's all I'll ever be.  
Just like you're human, and that's what I strive to be.

Seriously, though, call me ungrateful, but pig food?
Do you humans know what pig food is?
It's leftovers, man.  Freaking leftovers.
Yeah, of course I'm going to inhale them,
It's free food.  Who says no to free food?

Oh, and have you seen my house?
It's made out of oak, and its pretty sturdy, sure, until it rots,
And where the heck are my windows? You have windows. Why don't I have windows?
And no door? Give me some privacy? Kidding, it gets freaking cold out here,
And all I have are these bundles of hay.  Hey, did your granny knit you that quilt?

I mean, you put me thru all of this just to get slaughtered?
Just to call me Roast, or Bacon, like Roast and Bacon Sr. before me? 

Maybe I'm just ranting.  Maybe I don't have it that bad.  I mean, look at the veterans.
Look at the way they eat from dumpsters, and the way they don't eat,
And then look at the way I'm eating organic waste off the plates of neighbors.  

Oh, and look at the way I am now, snuggled in a corner, my head poking out
Of cozy stacks of hay,
And then look at the way Crazy Mason makes a pillow out of the curb.
Just look at the way he dies for no reason, and how he isn't remembered.

I know for sure that when Farmer Jon is scarfing me down, 
He'll remember every grit that went into me.
And I'm damn sure he won't forget how good I tasted.

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Things I Miss

Nostalgic Nights.
The smell of gas in the vintage moped I drove an hour to buy, 
Driving down that small-town street at night,
Lit by the dim bike light on that streetlight-less street.
Mixing gas with oil and lighting puddles afire. 
It was light in the dark and it was a dark time. 

My Youthfulness. 
That time I sat on a sand sculpture and ruined it;
My first memory of guilt.
Basketball practice at the rec. center, the vending machines.
Pokemon VHS tapes, stuffed animals and sleepovers, 
When mom took me to class, and bingo for books,
And the Library with Mom and Mimi and Justin, Mike, Julia...Sean.
And when she chaperoned my field trip and paid for my friend
At the gift shop even though she couldn't afford to.

When we would wake up before mom and dad and watch TV 
Until we heard the liquid clink and aromatic smell of coffee brewing, 
And that time we watched The Sixth Sense in the living room as a family.
When I first started writing stories,
And we would go sledding in our front yard.
Ms. Philips three houses down, 
And how I could hear dad yelling at the football game from there;
And that time I woke up on Christmas Eve before presents went out,
And sat with Dad and Mom and they let me watch TV 
And have a candy cane from the tree even though it was getting late.

Which reminds me of all the times we put milk and cookies out, 
And watched the Wizard of Oz,
And mom made chicken wings for christmas and baptisms and first communions.
And when we would go swimming in Papas pool and he would take us for walks, 
And walks in St Patricks Cemetery,
I even remember when the first iPhone came out, because Papa has his
And we were walking in the cemetery.
It reminds me of all those times the family went apple picking 
And got apple cider doughnuts, and we stuffed mums
purse with apples even though we had more than we needed.

Berkley.
The small town I remember memories in;
The way family used to be, before the divorce.
Building teepees in the woods in the backyard,

Nerf wars across the neighborhood,
And digging a massive hole in the neighbors yard,
The farm and the circle of friends among it, 
How six years ago I didn't know them, 
And how I work for them ever day now.

More memories.
How stupid I acted in school, even though I knew I'd regret it,
Skipping school for thrift-shopping and going out for breakfast,
Holidays with the family and visiting great grandma,
Which oddly reminds me of the cottage

[shortened version--cant fit any more ;(]

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Life Is

Yesterday was sad,
But today I am happy.
A roller-coaster

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How To Be a Man

Take out the trash on Tuesday and remember the white bags are recyclable; 
Don’t mix the trash with the pig food, we’re saving the world; 
Put the yard waste on the curb on Friday after you finish pruning; 
Don’t oversleep on harvest days;
Be careful, remember we deal with squash, not squish; 
Vacuum and cover the pool today; 
Take your shoes off before you enter the house; 
Always hold the door for the ladies; 
Half-naked girls aren’t friendly girls; 
Don’t do drugs for they hinder your mind; 
Be sure to keep holy on the Lord’s day; 
Don’t cuss for this is the infamous cuss jar; 
This is how to tie a figure-eight, this is how to shoot a doe; 
This is how to treat your lady, and this is how to treat your foe; 
This is how you wear your tie; 
This is how you plant the seeds; 
This is how you chop a fallen pine; 
this is how you hoe some weeds; 
this is how you talk to Pops and Ma;
This is how to drive your tractor;
This is how to cook a steak;
But don’t fix dinner for God’s sake—you’re not a girl, you know; 
Don’t go shopping, go farming; 
Don’t do girly things for you are a young man and must become and old man; 
This is how you burn the leaves;
This is how you study; 
This is how you use a saw;
This how you change the break pads and this is how you build a house;
This is how you work out—you might want to play some sports; 
This is how you take care of your wife and your kids;
This is how you change a diaper like a man; 
Sometimes it’s okay to lie, or leave without saying goodbye; 
Sometimes its okay to skip work to fix dinner for your lady; 
This is how you set the table;
This is how to track muddy footprints through the freshly cleaned house when work just wasn’t good today; 
This is how you kiss a ladies hand; 
But what if the lady won’t let me kiss her hand?;
You mean to say that after all you are really going to be the kind of guy who a lady won’t let kiss her hand?

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Business As Usual

Ah, sweet business!
And it's smooth as usual!
I freaking love life.

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Box of Chocolate Candy For My Little Poet Destroyer

chocolate is brown -- silence is golden -- love is colorless

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The Season Fall

Harvest Ale, pumpkins for sale
Breezy colors floating flying 
Fluttering leaves, dying trees

With each colorful beginning 
Of yellow, orange, red, 
Marks a yucky ending;
crispy brown, and dead.

Hot apple cider, and Halloween
Trick or treat, but tricks are mean.
Rows of scarecrows, gardening hoes
For fields of squash not squish.

10/21/2015

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Sweet Jesus

Jesus my savior,
God has been too good to me.
I'm sorry for my sins.

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Coconut Kush

Tangible Shit
Monetary Mush
Naturally Grown
Monetary Mush

And Now You Say
Money Matters?
Or You Fear
To Whom It Flatters?

Material Meltdown
What Is This Life?
To Be Identified 
By Symbolical Strife

You Think We Need
Financial Lust?
All That Matters
Is Coconut Kush

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Squash

Strenuous work,
Gimme a perk, 
It hurts, the pain,
I'm not the same.

Bending backs,
facing the facts,
I'm not a farmer,
A bogus charmer.

And they tell me;
Be careful said he--
It's squash, not squish
You work or you flee.