More Sad Poems Again!

Poignantly and sharply emotive, these verses are sly of wit and crafty like a fox at midnight that steals minced meat pies that cool on the windowsills of the countryside’s night cottages.

Jock Itch

Traversing my leg:
The explorers.
Like some spore-producing version of the Niña, Pinta and Santa Maria.
“We claim the New World in the name of Spain”
They claim.
This land, the Groinribbean.
They infect and pillage.
My lands burning and red,
like an irritated patch of skin
it’s flaking towards the raised leading edge
Like some Conquistadorian sword.
El Dorado nowhere to be found.
The fountain of youth is dry.
This cream is moist.
It will be their foreign disease.
Go back to Isabella.
She will give you a coin for your troubles.


In all this uncertainty
the pee smell on my pants is steadfast.

There it was

This is a life of no effect.
A sigh that goes a lil sumpin like this.

Checkin’ the dumps
round plumps, disco derriere
goodbye shadows of the woman I got busy.
Whoop, there it was.

I be fallin’ down all swirly
Time to take away the pen of this whitey
I’m an old school fool.
Whose lost his cool.
Whoop, there it was.

Drinking tap water/got no money for Colas.
Got crazy/blew all my money on vintage scootas.
Sad skills, blowing noses,
Digging ditches, I’m cold steel.
Cold like da party people dat dis unreal deal.
Whoop, there it was.

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March 24th, 2006. Categories / Projects

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