by Rick Young | Aug 21, 2021 | List
Count Basie was the counterpoint to Kenny Rogers’ ‘Gambler.’
Clarence Williams III was by far ‘Mod Squad’s’ greatest scrambler.
Kasey Musgraves minus fifty is Jackie DeShannon.
Usain Bolt runs like a colt who’s shot out of a cannon.
Wilt the Stilt and Jim McMahon both reached sport’s greatest heights.
Joe Strummer of the Clash was one of punk’s fast thinking knights.
Toe Blake patrolled that frozen lake and rink in Montreal.
And Christopher Milne used to live with his pal Winnie in the hall.
by Rick Young | Aug 17, 2021 | Poem
I’m spending all my coin on protein drinks.
If you haven’t got your energy, for sure this hard life stinks.
You gotta get up early and then make your scheduled rounds.
Feed the cat, walk the dog, toss the coffee grounds.
Nine gram shots of protein taken three, four times a day
should give you all the energy you need to work and play.
But should you feel it start to wane before your day is full,
a supplement should help you: just drink one can of Red Bull.
At night, you won’t need alcohol to float you off to sleep.
A day of action acts like traction, pulls you under, deep.
And in the morning, there’ll await there for you when you wake
the guiding light of your new life, that eight ounce protein shake.
by Rick Young | Jul 24, 2021 | Poem
I had them Day After Funeral Blues.
Dressed up in cold black shoes.
Dark in the whitened apse.
Stretching a long time lapse.
She was and now she’s ashes.
We had our times and bashes.
Life traits like garters tossed.
Turning old and sold with fingers crossed.
The solemn column filing out.
All of them soon dead, no doubt.
We are but an epoch’s tears,
bolstered by wine, fearing years.
While we party underground,
some say there are gnomes around.
by Rick Young | Jul 23, 2021 | Poem
Lies, cries the CultPopNet’s new news nose, The Knews Knows.
Standing with his ego and a firehose, shooting out wet prisms and some rainbows.
While around him bruised waves circle, seeking optimum ways the world flows.
The Knews Knows nothing chant may echo between banks.
Compassion for old fashion decorates too many tanks.
The waves one braves in seeking out the eddy and the flow
may get points in your heaven, but no luck in Kokomo.
The CultPopNet is gorged with fish, all multicolored scales.
A talking dolphin is their God. He says please don’t kill whales.
The Knews Knows many languages and signs with Janie’s apes.
He once fell in with Hubbard and has his brainwashing tapes.
His hurricane of colors sometimes threatens black and white.
But birds and bees and trees agree The Knews Knows way is right.
Outside, the constant crying of the antis and the pros
abates late night so size regenerates while helpless doze.
by Rick Young | Jul 22, 2021 | Poem
The rainbow bridge has melted in its wake.
The overwhelmed face more than they can take.
The clown car’s screaming downhill with no brake.
There is no sense of what is real or fake.
The multiplicities embrace no common theme.
Is life a cabaret, or maybe just a dream?
Without the senses, sensing nothing is as it may seem.
Death alone can turn us into something like a team.
The fires of winter turn eventually to hails of spring.
And nature redefines the nature of what it can bring.
Of days of old, like solid gold, so simple, we now sing.
These days we graze, we praise, but we don’t understand a thing.
