Tuesday, December 16, 2008

soul-a-geezer scrooge

holy crap y'all,

i think this is one day i should keep my mouth--well, fingers,-- to myself.
i can't think of one good thing to say.
so, instead, i will share a bad selection of my poetry with ya.
not that it isn't just as bad as a nagging cry-baby post-- but may be more entertaining to read.
or not--

Cold Hearted Christmas

I sit here alone in a cold rented house.

The heater is broke today, and 10 degrees out.

Too cold to go shopping, too freezing to clean

My tree stands here present - less, glaring at me

Outside the wind howls as it crawls though the glass,

Slipping into the house through each crevice and crack

I think to myself sipping coffee that’s cold

Oh my God I can’t take this, it’s just getting old

We pay more for this house than any ever before

Yet nothing here works for us, costing us more.

I wish we could move from here, and start someplace new

Somewhere safe for my child, without all this work needed to do

I could walk away, and leave everything here,

All that we own, except tools, and fishin gear.

The only good luck that has come to this house,

Is that no one has died, ‘cept a dog, and pet mouse.

We thought we would love this place, bright with its shine,

But it didn’t take long for the curse to arrive

Unbelievable things soon began to occur,

to my health, and his moods, and even our girl,

the house has its issues, with heat, tile, and floors

the list could continue but I have room for no more

one third of our income goes into this place

it’ll drive me to drink if I don’t run away

today my head pounds, as I shiver , and cry-

it’s warmer out there, than it is here inside

I’m grabbin my animals, photos and crap-

I’m leaving this hell hole- to live in a tarpaper shack !!!!

BMB 12-16-08


“An old lady new years eve”

It’s the morn of the new year, I woke up in pain,

The house is a mess, All the pets are insane.

I went for my coffee, yet all hopes were dashed -

the self timer broken, fresh coffee? My ass.

The final eve of ‘07 went out with a pop.

I was hoping for more but the night, a near flop.

Our small celebration, A toast with two teens-

I suppose it’s what married on new years eve means.

As middle age creeps into our small humble home,

These holiday things just seem to grow old.

Yet we struggle to stay awake, til the traditional time,

and break out the crystal , filled with cider, not wine .

We say goodbye to the old, as we welcome the new.

And promise ourselves of things we know we won’t do.

At midnight: 01, we now call it a day-

We head straight to bed, and fall asleep right away.

Whatever has happened to going out on the town -

Getting dressed up, and drinking til drowned?

Where is the dancing, and laughing with friends ,

counting backwards the seconds, as the new year comes in?

those days are gone – but I remember them well,

As I sit here and write of Souls’ new years eve tale.

BMB 1-1-08