Adam

February 3, 2010 at 4:06 pm | Posted in Poem | Leave a comment
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Photo by AlaskaTeacher

My goodly mate Adam

Was kindly and smart.

He had a big brain and

He had a big heart.

His IQ was thrice mine

Twice doubled and then

Paired with the first number

Plus three score and ten.

His spirit was open;

His largesse a crime.

He gave ten percentiles

Though he’d not a dime.

He moved through his life with

Attention and care.

He had all the fixings

He was all but there.

Yet ever so down in

The small of his back,

An unguarded portal

Open to attack.

A target for mean things

Like toothpicks and fluff

And burrs, glass and gravel

And other shite stuff.

Instead of a bandaid

Or maybe a shirt,

He twisted and strained to

Check out all these hurts.

This thing in its doing

Brought Adam to ground.

But when he arrived there,

Not a foe was found.

Ensconced in their bolt holes

Safe in their disguise.

They mocked and they jeered him

And bested his eyes.

Meanwhile the bright sunshine

Impatient to rest

Moved over the mountains

And on to the west.

Instead of a young man

With noble head high,

A hunched figure fretting

With bulldust and flies.

The day is not over.

The sun is not set.

There’s time yet to rise up

And over things get.

So stand to, young soldier,

Thy head from the sand.

Your heart and your brain seek

To know this fine land.

Press on ye regardless

Of everyday crud.

F*ck all of the numbnuts!

And go unto God.

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The Fonnie Flower

October 26, 2009 at 6:22 pm | Posted in Poem | 2 Comments
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The Fonnie Flower.

The Fonnie Flower.

This flower is called a ‘Fonnie Flower’ because:

It’s very hard to find.

Once you see it, you want to look at it all the time.

It’s modest, yet breathtakingly beautiful.

It doesn’t compete with other flowers.

It thrives in dark, barren conditions.

It turns an ordinary patch of clover into a tiny paradise.

It opens itself to the world, regardless of risk.

It’s the pinkest thing ever.

The closer you look at it, the more you see.

It sums up all of nature’s genius and goodness.

It rolls up tightly in cold weather.

It has a golden heart that’s full of light and empty of evil.

The beautiful Fonnie Flower!

 

A Husband’s Thanks for a Home-Cooked Meal

September 9, 2009 at 12:35 pm | Posted in Poem | Leave a comment
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20060816 010 Wok Fire

Light my fire!

I’m your bok choy baby,

You can call me Green Pea Paul.

I’ve got grinnage from that spinach

And that’s not bloody all.

I’m a lamb ramming psycho

Who never took a leek.

I’ve had a hit of gravy

That’ll last me till next week.

So thank you wife so precious

For an ace and decent feed.

You’re smart, cool and pretty,

And you fill my every need.

Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.

Chasing Fon

September 2, 2009 at 5:24 pm | Posted in Song | Leave a comment
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I got her!

I got her!

‘Feisty, come and play with us!’

My blokey best mate said.

‘We’re going out to drink and smoke –

We haven’t been to bed.

Come right now, or if you like,

Join us later on.

‘No way,’ I thought, with secret smiles,

‘I’m busy chasing Fon.’

 

‘How old is she?’ my father asked,

‘This girl of which you speak.

Your Mum and I are quite concerned;

You’ve not been home all week.

A warning, boy, before you go:

Walk before you run,’

‘I’m sorry, Dad, all due respect,

but this girl’s name is Fon.’

 

We ate and drank and smoked and kissed

And talked and loved and slept

And woke and dressed and drove and strolled

And bought and watched and wept.

It’s Sunday night and I’m still here

The weekend’s almost gone.

And though we’ve covered lots of ground,

The chase has just begun.

 

I seem on track, I’ve not f*cked up

We’ve done some groovy things.

But I must take it easy, for

A boy waits in the wings.

She is so grand, I’m so beset

The pull is so damn strong

But caution is the watchword

If I’m to stay a long

 

Time with the lovely Fon.

Fon is Strong

September 2, 2009 at 11:07 am | Posted in Song | 2 Comments
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Fon is strong!

Fon is strong!

Fon is strong,

You’d be surprised;

The power in

Those gorgeous eyes.

 

Her life force brims,

Soon to spill,

As she prepares

To drink her fill.

 

Woebetide

You greedy ones

Who drag her down

And spoil her fun.

 

She will exult

And triumph yet,

And dance on high

Without a net.

the onset of grief

August 29, 2009 at 1:46 pm | Posted in Poem | 7 Comments
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70's Barbie

My dear departed mother, Barbie Hassing.

my brain is getting smaller

as the world cuts it to size

we’re dumbing down the hard bits

since we found that i’m unwise

the small pond of the big fish

now the marianas trench

i’m drowning in life’s ocean and

it’s something of a wrench

the man who once set vcrs

can barely lick a stamp

i thought i had a searchlight

it was a miner’s lamp

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