JUNK SALE JUNKIE

junk sale junkie

I’m a junk sale junkie
As a matter of fact.
It has to be addiction
Because that’s how I act.
I just can’t help myself
I buy what I see.
It’s almost like the stuff
Is calling to me.

I drive by a yard and see
A ringer washing machine
And say to myself
Wouldn’t that be keen?
I could do my washing
And ring it nearly dry.
So, I buy the thing and
Don’t ask me why.

I’m a junk sale junkie
As a matter of fact.
It has to be addiction
Because that’s how I act.

I once found a deal
On a gerbil habitat.
I bought it and took it home.
That’s just where I’m at.
That I don’t have a gerbil
Is a minor detail.
I just can’t resist a good
Price in a sale.

I just can’t help myself
I buy what I see.
It’s almost like the stuff
Is calling to me.

People have told me
If I ever get a bride
She’ll be someone
I met on the roadside.
But I quickly add that I
Might be the worst
Because I would look
At the sale items first.

I’m a junk sale junkie
As a matter of fact.
It has to be addiction
Because that’s how I act.
I just can’t help myself
I buy what I see.
It’s almost like the stuff
Is calling to me.

PLAIN TALK

shoulda-woulda-coulda

I’s gunna say
I’d hafta wanna,
So, omina say no.
I know I coulda
And prolly shoulda
But I wouldn’ta
‘Cause I gotta
Kinda take a chanceta
Be a wannabe.
Not a useta was,
But a gunna go to guy.
Still I liketa never
Gotta break yet.
But I’m tryna.

Winecha common?
Wotsa prollem?
Youc’n do it, cancha?
Tryna kid me?
Tryna trick me.
Wotsa mattayou?
Crazy inna head?
Shoulda stood in bed?
Eye ainna gunna
Letcha jerk me
Lyka dummass
Jess causeya can.
Eye aindat kyna guy.
Eye ainno fool, er you?

So, omina skip it
Jess fergit it
Eye ain doinit.
No way ho say.
Say wotcha gotta
Wotever ya wanna
But omina do thangs
My own way.
Not gunna play.
Nuttin youc’n say
Gunna change me,
Make a differnse.
So, jess go way.
Look fer sumthin
Er sumone else
At wantsta play.

BUBBY BEAR, MY BEST FRIEND

BUBBY

He has one eye missing
And a patchwork butt.
I tell everybody he’s winking,
That he has one eye shut.
He’s lost a lot of hair
And he no longer sits up
Like he used to before.
But whenever I see him
I am never in doubt
He is still the bear I adore.

Bubby Bear is a very good bear
The best friend there ever could be.
He sleeps by my side every night
And Bubby never argues with me.

When things get too scary
Or out of control I go and
Grab up Bubby and hold him.
He’s always warm and he’s
Sympathetic, and so I never
Feel the need to scold him.
I can always talk to him
And explain things out
Because he is so very patient.
I think it is because he
Is such a very wise bear
And always there waiting.

Bubby Bear is the finest bear
He always right beside me.
I don’t have to worry that he
He might want to abandon me.

Some people like to tease me
About the way Bubby looks
And make fun of his condition.
But they have to admit to me
They don’t have a friend who gives
One hundred percent permission,
And never gets tired of them
Or tattles their confidences
Or gets bored with what they say.
That’s why Bubby is my best friend
Always was, always will be
All night long and every single day.

Bubby Bear is a very good bear
He puts up with my every whim.
I feel sorry for anyone who
Doesn’t have a friend like him.

MAMA TAUGHT ME JITTERBUG

Mama Taught

When I was young high school kid
I wasn’t doing very well with girls
I didn’t know what to say to them
But I really wanted to give it a whirl.
So, when Mama saw me struggling
She saw me blowing my chance
She told me, “They’ll come around,
All you have to do is learn to dance.”

So, she showed me some rather easy
Stylish steps from her jitterbug days
I took them and danced to the music
That the deejays chose to play.

Mama taught me jitterbug
And that helped quite a bit
She won awards as a teen
I heard she was quite a hit.

I rocked and I rolled and bounced
My shoes got to moving with the beat.
Then I was snapping my fingers and
My body went along with my feet.
I twirled the girls I danced with and
Held them snuggly up close and tight.
And the girls started asking me to dance
Right away from that very first night.

Mama taught me jitterbug
And I very glad she did
It turned a geeky wallflower
Into a much more popular kid.

I learned the Stroll and Hully Gully
The UT and the Electric Slide
With a changing bevy of beauties
Dancing along right by my side.
This was before Twist showed up
Which everybody could learn to do
But even then I found that I could
Teach them another trick or two.

Mama taught me jitterbug
And that helped quite a bit
She won awards as a teen
I heard she was quite a hit.

SNARKY POET

snarky poet

Many of my poems are snarky
And I know it.
Some things make me bitchy
And I show it.

Some people are beneath contempt
Puff out their chests, think they’re exempt
But at the bottom of it all, they’re scum.
They count on people at large to be dumb
And deaf and blind to their ugly tricks.
People give up thinking they can fix
The atrocities perpetrated on society.
They get physically sick at the impropriety
And villainy these criminals get by with;
Two tongues in each mouth politicians lie with.

Many of my poems are painful
And I know it.
Some things make me disdainful
And I show it.

I’d perhaps take up haiku poems or calligraphy
If there wasn’t so much ignominy around me.
My trusted representatives are lying to me
And are doing so daily with total impunity.
It’s disgusting and even more, its treason.
And most of the time, they have no reason
Other than rampant compulsions and greed.
So, what better excuse would they need
To betray every concept they claim to believe?
Is that why there’s never going to be a reprieve?

Many of my poems are political
And I know it.
Some things make me analytical
And I show it.

It works because we reward tinhorn crooks
And let them alter all our history books
To either pretend they never existed
Or to act like they ever have resisted
Any momentum to remove the rights
Of those who were not born white
Or rich, or straight, or Republican
Then, the next Congress starts again.
I’ll stop being a bitch about all this
When they stop offering their ass for me to kiss.

Many of my poems are snarky
And I know it.
Some things make me bitchy
And I show it.

BANG, BANG, BANG

bang bang bang

When I was a little kid
My friends and I would play
At cowboys and Indians
In the barn with forts of hay.
We crafted guns from sticks
We found about the farm
And though we shot each other
We managed to come to no harm.

Bang, bang, bang! I got you!
No you didn’t, you missed!
The bullet whizzed by me!
You can’t see me in the mist!

Of course, if we were Indians
The same rules held true there.
You never managed to kill us
We never took your hair.
But, we knew we were villains
Because cowboys were king.
We didn’t even question it.
It was that sort of thing.

Bang, bang, bang. I got you!
Cowboys don’t ever cry.
We twist and dodge you redskins
So, don’t even bother to try.

Holding invisible reins, we rode
On our noble painted steeds.
We pretended it was the old West
Here in our playground of weeds.
Some of us had play weapons
Santa had brought to the lucky
But forcing improvisation only
Made us a lot more plucky.

Bang, bang, bang. I shot you.
You dirty lowdown rustler.
Oh, we thought of every dodge.
What young, clever hustlers.

WAR, WAR

WAR, WAR

War, war and much more.
It’s good for the economy.
War, war. Even the score.
Reduce the rank of the enemy.

The other guys were different
And that made them negligent
And earned them the fate
Of a premature exit date.
They will always suffer defeat
That are not of the prime elite.
Killing such a strange enemy
Should garner no sympathy.

War, war and much more.
It’s good for the economy.
War, war. Even the score.
Reduce the rank of the enemy.

The children are taught
From the first days of school.
We are the good guys
And that’s the important rule.
Bear that in mind, kiddies
Because it will always be true.
We are the champions here
No matter what we do.

War, war and much more.
It’s good for the economy.
War, war. Even the score.
Reduce the rank of the enemy.

Children with sticks for guns
Learn to play their games.
They get shot, but don’t fall.
They know just who to blame.
You missed me, they call
Until the bullets are for real.
Then, they learn to question
What they were taught to feel.

War, war and much more.
It’s good for the economy.
War, war. Even the score.
Reduce the rank of the enemy.

That’s what all war is for
To make sure none are alive
To fight the glorious holy war.
So none manage to survive.
With overwhelming enmity,
Some faced down opposition
By obliterating the enemy
And earned their commission

War, war and much more.
It’s good for the economy.
War, war. Even the score.
Reduce the rank of the enemy.