A schoolfriend kick-around
Mr Whippy lurking at the gate
Benched smoking friends with blue bagged camouflaged alcohol
A new family stroll to encourage baby's sleep
New cyclists concentrating
Old cyclists using no hands
A spread out picnic
Frowns from the coated council worker
A dying water feature
Bushes for lurking and hiding
The not as good side
Dog walkers reflecting and thinking.
Cookie, fire-up yer chuck wagon 'cause th' round-up is begun!
Us cowpokes is gonna cull th' herd frum dawn to th' settin' sun!
We is gonna supply you wid th' cookin's fer our chuck tonight;
Heaps uv good ol' Rocky Mountain oysters broiled fer our delight!
It'll be a hot an' dusty trail as we drive 'em frum th' chaparral,
An' herd them cantankerous kine fer brandin' in th' ol' corral!
It'll take a heap uv sweat an' a lot uv cussin' to git 'em movin', alright,
But it'll be worth it, 'cause we is feedin' on Rocky Mountain oysters tonight!
Usin' our cuttin' hosses we'll rope an' wrestle th' bulls to th' ground.
There we'll brand an' neuter 'em as they beller an' kick around!
We'll be bruised an' kicked fer little pay but that'll be alright,
'Cause we is gonna enjoy a feast uv Rocky Mountain oysters tonight!
Us cowboys works hard wid little pay rollin' 'round in th' manure,
Convertin' bulls into steers; that's more'n them city fellers could endure!
But that's okay, 'cause at round-up time we gits a special treat;
Tonight we is gonna enjoy a feast uv Rocky Mountain oysters to eat!
The rubber roo is a fantastic work of art.
Constructed of rubber, as to never fall apart.
It has a large round head with little arms and legs.
It strongly bares the resemblance of a hard boiled egg.
It’s made to punch and kick around.
The perfect back yard toy to deliver a righteous beat down.
It’s for your everyday frustration, it’s never broke a toe.
Kick it barefoot or with a boot, you can even pick it up and throw.
But leave it parked outside, it has one special part.
The backside where you kick, kind of smells like a bad old fart.
It comes with its own private handler carefully packaged in the box.
Our factory is cleverly hidden, way out in the boondocks.
Willy Wonka Is Not Here So What Is My Factory Going to Make Poetry Contest.
Caren Krutsinger
5-10-20
I want to live in a healthy place,
at least as mature as junior high school,
where who I reciprocally love,
gay or straight or span-sexually in-between,
is not a political and economic football,
a wildly bouncing and rebounding issue
full of hot air
for others to kick around
and divest of
as they lose punishing interest.
Yet who we choose to hate,
deviantly or not,
is a BusinessAsUsual privatized non-issue
for an unhealthy society
to publicly notice
before quickly fading
into private live and let live fields
of NO TRESPASSING apartheid.
I would strongly prefer
to never apologize
for who I healthy love,
and daily apologize
for,
and maybe to,
but most certainly with,
those I unhealthy hate.
Today he resigned, he filled out his notice,
Today’s the day he departs,
Today’s the day he stops life like an adult,
And begins again, right from the start,
So he threw out his brief case, suede shoes and black suit,
Hung his restraint on the door,
And put on some shorts, torn singlet and boots,
And went on some crazy explore,
To burn some ants with a magnifying glass,
Then kick around the mud and the dirt,
He also went to spray paint some walls,
Getting paint all over his shirt.
Today’s the day he quit being adult,
His new life has now just begun,
Authority and burden of old adult life,
Replaced with fooling around, happy and fun.
I try, I mean really try, to see the other side of any argument , but the senseless killings of Majestic animals for pleasure, is just plain SICK
In Memory of Cecil the Lion
King Of The Beast.
(Killed by a cowardly dentist july 2015)
They won't have Ol'Cecil to kick around no more
To see his royal stance or hear his roar
No, they won't have a reason, if they haven't come before
'Cause they're missing the best thing on the tour
Who'd thought an evil menace, turned out to be a dentist
who was willing to pay, to make a kill
I try to keep an opened mind, but I just don't make much sense
And I'm telling you, it never ever will
I can't remember Lions ever hurting me at all
But, dentists have caused me many pains
So, I'd like to take an arrow and stick it in his a**
And make a lions den trophy of his brain
we've been abuses
ueses
beat down
kick around
we still got the grove
to move on
WE'VE NUTHIN TO PROVE
Love is not a game.
Love isn't something you can kick around and score points with.
You don't win love.
But you can loose love...
Love is something that should be taken care of.
It's something that has to be nurished.
It should be treasured and chairished.
Love is not something that should be given up!
The Lord didn't give up on all of us!
He died for us!
Now thats a heck of a lot of love!
Don't take love for granted!
Who am I
I'm the one you tease
Cause I'm different.
I'm the one you bother
Cause I'm just there.
I'm the the mat you step on
I'm the rock you kick around
And you think you can control me
Like I'm the clay and you're the sculptor
Like I'm the robot and you press my buttons
But you can't control me
I may be nothing as you say
But your words son't mean jack to me
I am somebody
Sooner or later you'll see me on the street
With my head up high
While you're eating my dust
And I'll be wondering
Who's laughing now!
Feeling like the Bear caught in the trap, gnawing at my own flesh.
Eyes darting to the right and to the left.
Desperation climbing down my throat, to kick around my Bowel's.
The empty days, and hollow night's, choking my last breath.
I fear you no longer care, a fate much worse than death.
I could never really pick one thing.
I never recognized what was expected of me.
Break and bend always.
The egg will fall and crack.
Why couldn't that just be that?
You say you see so much in me,
well I've heard it before and I still don't know what it means.
What you see isn't a vision.
What you see is separate.
An idea outside of reality.
It's a shame, I'm not so great.
Why am I "better",
as you say.
Why?!
How?!
You think its easy to reach this level of recklessness?
The self-sacrifice it takes to reach the barrel bottom that I kick around as I please
while you cower with fear.
The fear of losing everything fills your empty head.
I'm free to lose.
It's lost.
It's gone.
Trust, family, friends, jobs.
Your worry is my grain of salt.
No judgement calls,
no right or wrong.
Morality the weakest link of them all.
An appetite to evolve and self-destruct makes for some fierce philosophy when
theres nowhere to go but up.
My tears burn,
my eyes won't shut,
My feet are cut.
Ashes to ashes...
well whatever, one more thing,
I'm a big fick and a good duck,
love it...........lick it up.....dust to motherbloody dust.