The Last Waltz (till the 12th of Never)
I never got around to this waltz stufferoo, preferring to do a little
soft shoe, tip of the Hatlo hat toodledoo so to speak
as I sashayed my wrinkled old ass
out the door
off the killing floor
of small town
anywhere better than this
folderol
color me curmudgeon
if you ain't misbehavin"
I ain't having it
Who among this orchestra
with ill-tuned instruments
could tempt me back
to that hormonal sticky mucked-up floor?
Who besides me ever heard
of Neodesha god-help-us Kans-ass?
With its sundowner signs
and cruelties and banality
and Mrs cleaver complaining
about Ward being a little rough
on the beaver last night
and the har hars and the locker talk
so yes I was gone before I went
Wouldn't you?
So, kids, it's been...something
I guess. Gonna miss a few. But here
I am in Waikiki
The Homeless Poet of Waikiki
Too old to dance
Romance you outta yer pants
80 and loving me
Just to finally see
What it's like to be
Free.
(Or at least cheap)
Love you guys. Gonna miss you.
soft shoe, tip of the Hatlo hat toodledoo so to speak
as I sashayed my wrinkled old ass
out the door
off the killing floor
of small town
anywhere better than this
folderol
color me curmudgeon
if you ain't misbehavin"
I ain't having it
Who among this orchestra
with ill-tuned instruments
could tempt me back
to that hormonal sticky mucked-up floor?
Who besides me ever heard
of Neodesha god-help-us Kans-ass?
With its sundowner signs
and cruelties and banality
and Mrs cleaver complaining
about Ward being a little rough
on the beaver last night
and the har hars and the locker talk
so yes I was gone before I went
Wouldn't you?
So, kids, it's been...something
I guess. Gonna miss a few. But here
I am in Waikiki
The Homeless Poet of Waikiki
Too old to dance
Romance you outta yer pants
80 and loving me
Just to finally see
What it's like to be
Free.
(Or at least cheap)
Love you guys. Gonna miss you.
Goodbye Bro'
sitting at the grave marker
didn't know who it belonged to
its peaceful and quiet
riding in something stranger
filling up voids
you were there
clawing up the well
fingers slightly shaking
strange about Marcus
bickering with others
about black tea and biscuits
threatens to self destruct
https://youtu.be/2-BRJgtFyMs?si=NlIA6vtXLBqQQ01c
Black Tea and Biscuits
This combination always hits the spot
on mornings when I drag myself from bed,
resembling more one of the walking dead,
and stumble kitchenwards, to make a pot.
I sip that sweet restoring cup, the shot
which kicks my weary arse, cries 'Sleepyhead,
wake up! You can not laze around! Instead,
you must attack the day with all you've got!'
I listen, grumble, pour a second mug,
then dunk my favourite bourbon biscuit in
and munch, a biscuit welcome as a drug,
and only then I let the day begin.
What makes this wicked world go round for me
are biscuits and a lovely cup of tea.
☕
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APEhT7DrEq0&pp=ygUWdGVhIGFuZCBiaXNjdWl0cyBzb25kcw%3D%3D
🏝️☕
I'm Not Saying I Disagree with Pound and Eliot, but ...
I'll try the Jackson Pollock way to write
this Onion, chucking words like flicking paint
upon the page. Telephone. Dog. It ain't
the greatest method. Cow. Frog, and the sight
of random words I'm sure will bring complaint
from all those boring fuddy-duddies, who
quite like to read a poem that makes sense,
the meaning clear as crystal glass, not dense
with marmalade and omlettes painted blue,
which to Discernment only cause offence;
but still the art of poems must progress.
They must be 'difficult' to comprehend,
as Pound and Eliot would recommend.
No wonder Poetry's in such a mess!
Such arty bollocks brought about its end.
☹️
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XB-HFM70Rxk&pp=ygUVc3VycmVhbGlzdCBwb2VtIG1lbGx5
🙃
New Balls, Please
I found
that writing
this poem
was a
little bit
like playing
a game
of tennis
that ended
only after
a lot
of sweat
swearing and
effort when
the words
finally went
crashing into
the
n
e
t
🎾
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7InXchA_Ko&pp=ygUSam9obiBtY2Vucm9lIHNvbmdz
🏝️☕
Working for the Man, or ‘Got a Spare Cat, Grace?' 😻
Another bloody Day comes barging in
and kicks me in the head, 'Oi, lazy bones!'
it cries, ignoring all my sleepy moans.
'It's time to get your arse in gear! Begin!’
I groan and loathe the Day, the chirping tones
of its accomplices, those singing birds,
which twitter on so noisily, to greet
the Dawn with tuneless din. The bastards cheat
me of my precious sleep! I mutter words,
obscenities, and think how dearly sweet
to blast them with a shotgun it would be
and see their feathered bodies lying dead,
disintegrated, blood-stained, dripping red
beneath the branches of their favourite tree.
I'd gladly, joyfully, spring out of bed
for Birdicide, make no mistake of that!
Alas, no gun have I, illegal still,
and so those birdies sing on, jarring, shrill.
I could, though, get a savage ginger cat
who'd love to have those feathered fiends to kill,
but just for now, I'm cat-less and awake,
and so I struggle out of bed, get dressed,
already feeling irritated, stressed,
and wishing I could get a lucky break,
get rich, f*ck work, stay curled up in my nest,
if I should choose. I'd smile upon the Day
were that the case, no longer would I moan,
no longer would I grumble, gripe and groan.
I could decide to either work or play,
for then the precious Day would be my own.
😻
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWtMRsAQQZk&pp=ygUiYm9vbXRvd24gcmF0cyBpIGRvbid0IGxpa2UgbW9uZGF5cw%3D%3D
🏝️☕
That Fuckingbastardtwat of a Timer at the Top of this Page is Really Getting on My Tits, Mother!
I wish someone would stop that Countdown Clock
that ticks away the Time to when we're gone.
I see it every time that I log on,
but every time it still comes as a shock,
as if a Cancer doctors can not block
is slowly spreading through our heart and brain,
increasing every second's bitter pain,
no chance of any cure or of relief.
That fucking Clock like Cancer's just a thief
who'll steal the Life that we won't have again.
⏱️🪓
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vqbk9cDX0l0&pp=ygURaXZlIG5vIG1vcmUgZnVja3M%3D
⚰️
Cats for Ajay
Hey would you like a cat
that sit in sunlit corners
or the one that shadow play
with its double on the wall
or would you rather take
the old cat soft and grey
or one that sleeps all day
with deep emerald eyes
there's one that purr her song
a soothing hum under the bed
another that think yowling
is a soothing lullaby
I can spare a few cats
to accompany you for a few days
you can keep them if you like
cause I have many to spare
https://youtu.be/KaKK7l21sG8?si=GAYQKCVwm0xeTQ6u
