Tag Archives: Poetry

Can a bih marry Juana in this joint?


420 on a foggy Friday day
Can’t see the forest for the tree i hug
Yeah it’s Friday but i’m going to bake
Mary Jane exhaled, “hey, no glove, no love
i don’t want your seeds that sticky icky”
So planted tulips on her rosy cheeks
And i snooped around in my blue Dickies
Fuck TruGreen! i like having grassy weeds
My i’s low no more capital letters
Uppercuts to uppercases wham bam
i got the munchies ultimate cheddar
Catching a red-eye flight to Amsterdam
Going back to Cali for brownie points
Can a bih marry Juana in this joint?

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PO’ ET

Top lock for bottom incisors, canines
Door of ‘ortunity is not my opp’
Key to the city cut like the skyline
That’s why I don’t ball up my fist and knock
Hey, photographers, those aren’t lights at night
Bite marks on landmarks sinking teeth into
Playing matchmaker ‘til love at first sight
Orifice meets office, room thirty-two
The mismatches tell a better story
Darkness scattered in random directions
Scared, running from a litt Jason Voorhees
Even the puck and ice a good reference
Damn, one percent left, it’s time to phone home
Hung up when I realized I live alone

the jig is up

999 puzzle pieces pour deliciously on the coffee table

The thousandth ran 2 laps on the grounds before coming to a calm post

The irregular shape of the piece against the perfect tiles makes it look like a spill from this height

Instead of water treating my head line, heart line, and life line, like a finish line, and racing through it like a hare, the shape of this puzzle piece has the profile of a baby tortoise upon slower analysis

“Turtles taste like cardboard” I expressed so I tucked in my puck

Roasting myself like, “You’re such a beanhead for letting that partner of theirs persuade you into spending Starbucks on a 3D puzzle instead of a flat white”

That pile of puzzle pieces sitting atop the mocha lava colored table is sculpted like a volcano, or did those cardboards just fall out the cardboard that way?

Maybe that’s why this turquoise turtle turned course? Poor little thing doesn’t know how to protect itself with its totally coarse shell yet.

Sugar dugar, I’m why your puzzle piece is missing

I have stolen a piece out of every puzzle made since 1991. The piece that most resembles a baby turtle. Don’t ask me how I do it. I don’t share my process with teenagers, mutants, or ninjas.

I was just a weird little zombie kid who wanted pet turtles

Because the pieces were all from different puzzles I never attempted to fill in the blanks with the tabs

Then one day during a commercial break of The Walking Dead I tried out of boredom and something amazing happened …

Perhaps …

When you put a pause to what you’re saying I want to help you search for the right word to complete your sentence.

But you accidentally stumbled up-pond why I am an elusive island with the word you left me to work with.

Perhaps, Me? Me? “Don’t have a cow, man” I had to udder to myself after seeing the notification. This what I get for being a simp, son. Turned Coldplay’s yell low so I could hear myself think.

Love and like.

Like and love.

Both begin with L and end in E.

I’m overcompensating for the letters in-between because it reveals the truth, and I’m all too aware of abbreviations and Memphis slang to ignore it.

I know it’s over.

I don’t want it to be but I’m not too shore of the current events. The waves are goodbyes. You can’t travel by relationship from an Artificial Island to a Barrier Island when another pirate already put an “arrr” in your title Ms. I cried a river up-pond realizing “arrr” means a definite yes while “perhaps” means uncertainty.

And quite frankly, that’s the only reason you’re having oceans of trouble breaking the barriers.

It’s definitely not the booties because Passport Bear landed in love with you so hard during your layover any baggage you claim I accept as a carry-on.

I want your island to flourish, but not at the risk of mines going unnoticed because I would still love to sea you come by in your friendship.

I want ’em back (I want ’em back)
The minds we had (the minds we had)
How all the thoughts (how all the thoughts)
Moved ’round our heads (moved ’round our heads)
I want ’em back (I want ’em back)
The minds we had (the minds we had)
It’s not enough to feel the lack
I want ’em back, I want ’em back, I want ’em
You’re the only friend I need
Sharing beds like little kids
Laughing ’til our ribs get tough
But that will never be enough

Look At My Kitchen

Look At My Kitchen: May 17,2006 

A person who is a restroom is used like a cliche

A person who is a restroom is treated like shit

A person who is a restroom is always pissed off ‘cuz they’re pissed on

Follower look at my kitchen

A person who is a living room is for eyes, not hands

A person who is living room is never used

A person who is a living room shows off when the show is on

Follower look at my kitchen

A person who is a bedroom sleeps on the job

A person who is a bedroom will get enough sleep while they’re alive and when they’re dead

A person who is a bedroom painted over the writings on the wall

Follower look at my kitchen

A person who is a kitchen fries bigger fish and wash bigger dishes

A person who is a kitchen is not judged by the size of their refrigerator, they’re judged by whats in their refrigerator

A person who is a kitchen can take the heat as well as giving the heat

Follower look at my kitchen

The earth is a household that as 4 types of people in it, which one are you?

I am a kitchen – William Hughes

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

 

 

Momma’s Boy: A Poem for My Mother

Famous Last Words: October 21, 2006

 

Betty **** did not save the best for last

My mom made her mother a grandma first

My mom made her sisters want to have kids

So my cousins should thank me for their life

My mom and my dad should have got married

So the name Strong compliments what she is

Damn I wish I was born on Mother’s Day

Cuz there is no gift like the gift of life

My son will be named after me, his pop

My daughter will be named after my mom

Mom did not raise me but I will raise her

I will die for you mom, you gave me life

Harold … I’m the work of art Betty ****

Pen running out of ink, mom I love you …- Artist of the Year

Happy Birthday Ma!!!

 

 

A Thousand Kisses: A Poem For My Grandma

More Than A Grand: October 18, 2006

 

There are some people who live up to their name

Names like Jamie, Tracy, and Terry/Terri pass as bisexual names

Now there is a new name that will pass as a bisexual name

A name can tell a lot about a person’s character

Darnell **** is the grandparent who I live with

Darnell **** has 3 daughters, no sons, well until now

I feel like my mother and my auntees are my sisters

I don’t think I’ma son to my mother, I don’t think I’ma nephew to my auntees, I’m more of a uncle to my brothers, sisters, and my cousins, brother to my mother and auntees

And our mother is more like a sister to us

Darnell **** brings home the bacon like a man and cooks it like a woman

Darnell **** makes the money like a man and spends it like a woman

Darnell **** can dirty like a man and can clean like a woman

Darnell **** raised a son like a man and raised daughters like a woman

My grandma lives up to her name – Double D’s

HAPPY BIRTHDAY G’MA!!!