where did you go wendy o
dadada ahahaha
did you join a trio
or are you with my sharona
what goes up must come down
what goes up must come down
who is with you now
you two friends of pete and roger
are you in the front row
watching two Kings cover each other
what goes up must come down
what goes up must come down
first it might go all around
but at last it comes to ground
so many quick with a rhyme
a special touch on the strings
brad was even sublime
in both of these things
(Do you think he plays
while Shannon sings?)
what goes up must come down
joey, johnny and dee-dee
got thrown right out of Hell
back to the pet cemetary
where Dead piano players dwell
be careful for what you wish
what goes up must come down
nothing here can make them rich
speeding fast they hit the ground
L. Lawless
Showing posts with label original poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label original poetry. Show all posts
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Saturday, December 5, 2009
I once met a woman many years ago
She told me she was a tailor now
But used to be an engineer in Romania
She fought in the revolution against Ceausescu
When the walls fell and the light came
And by the hardness in her eyes I knew it was true
She still felt bad that they shot him Christmas Day
I told her Washington crossed the Delaware on the 25th
And not to feel guilty, but instead just pray
Dan Paris was pissed
When I said I was a communist
But it was just youthful idiocy
And he had old eyes from his childhood
But I never did it again
When he was around.
I once met an old boss from my past
A real sonunvabitch when he was prime
A big golfer too, now put out to grass
Now I work with another old guy, Eddie, his brother
And I wonder if Bill is the same and am I?
Or who has changed more than the other?
And many things seemed of great importance
and then not at all, being so much younger now
I am not as old as I was once.
© 2009
L. LAWLESS
She told me she was a tailor now
But used to be an engineer in Romania
She fought in the revolution against Ceausescu
When the walls fell and the light came
And by the hardness in her eyes I knew it was true
She still felt bad that they shot him Christmas Day
I told her Washington crossed the Delaware on the 25th
And not to feel guilty, but instead just pray
Dan Paris was pissed
When I said I was a communist
But it was just youthful idiocy
And he had old eyes from his childhood
But I never did it again
When he was around.
I once met an old boss from my past
A real sonunvabitch when he was prime
A big golfer too, now put out to grass
Now I work with another old guy, Eddie, his brother
And I wonder if Bill is the same and am I?
Or who has changed more than the other?
And many things seemed of great importance
and then not at all, being so much younger now
I am not as old as I was once.
© 2009
L. LAWLESS
Labels:
original poetry
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Kimmie is a bitch
rainy day junkie
just sittin around
gettin high
eatin jelly donuts
on the sly
planning to go camping
at the start of October
cuz we are festival
non grata
although I don't know why
our reputation is good
most people like our madness
So I am left confused
But wait, the answer is right here!
It's cuz Kimmie is a bitch
and Mike's her little butt-hole boy
Dan was a fool and this makes two
all three are stupider than dirt
you shouldn't piss off a poet
he might write about you
you shouldn't piss off his fiance
or her daughter either
in fact my whole family
has pretty much had it with you
so go away and act real cool
around somebody else's crew
cuz we are done with you
L. Lawless
Labels:
original poetry
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Sam Adams
Where are the ones to spray the flame?
With a stream of fluid
From a plastic bottle held in the hand.
Close enough to the now crazed blaze
To singe the unprotected skin.
But, not backing away or flinching,
Instead, with a flourish of the hand,
And expressionless élan,
Take the fuel from the fire,
And then fan the flames with breath.
Labels:
original poetry
Friday, February 27, 2009
DO YOU THINK
THAT THE FEAR
HIT CORNWALLIS
AT PRINCETON?
WHEN HE REALIZED
THAT THEY
HAD SNUCK UP ON HIM
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.
DO YOU THINK YOU’LL BE AFRAID?
AT THE HOUR OF YOUR DEATH.
THAT
-EMOTION(?)
SO COMMONPLACE
A MIRRORED LAKE
OF UNKNOWN DEPTH
AND COUNTLESS CASUALTY.
DO YOU THINK
THAT THE FEAR
WILL HIT YOU
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT?
WHEN IT SNEAKS
UP ON YOU
GLASS-EYED AND OPAQUE,
DRIPPING.
L. LAWLESS
Labels:
original poetry
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