by Rick Young | Jan 7, 2015 | Poem
He claims he wrote the very first
hillbilly constitution.
He got hit by a truck but
still awaits his restitution.
Born to rust and death by dust
are words in his preamble.
He lost a finger in a bet
then swore he’d never gamble.
He picks up tin cans by the road
and feeds them to his goats.
He never rode an airplane
but has paddled several boats.
He told his family sell his body
parts off when he dies.
He dreams of Daisy Duke at night.
He’s called Earl of the Flies.
by Rick Young | Jan 6, 2015 | Poem
Oh, one percent, we’re very sorry.
Your time has just gone down, in glory.
We’ve just agreed to feed the world
and, in return, no rockets hurled,
a peace over the very globe descended.
All gods agreed to stand in tow,
to watch a new plan bloom below,
and hope, alas, the greed of man has ended.
by Rick Young | Jan 5, 2015 | Poem
I awoke in a sweat
but the toys were asleep,
the noise of childhood faded.
I had cut my hair, cut my finger,
but couldn’t cut my losses.
Time bled, profusely, into the night.
Laughter is the hardest sound
to resurrect, silence a vacuum.
Let the words entertain, I thought.
Remote control and proliferating
pixels had entered my bloodstream.
The small plastic idols of my youth
sat undecomposed in landfills.
Perhaps last night’s play date
was a dream. Maybe the toys are dead.
by Rick Young | Jan 4, 2015 | Poem
Don’t wed that fool.
He’s still in school.
You’ll work to pay his loan.
His head’s too big,
his eyes too small.
And listen to his tone.
He’s mister smart.
He’s mister right.
He’s got just every answer.
You’d think that
he has done something:
found god, cured aids or cancer.
So back it off
and slow it down.
Make sure that he’s the one.
You’ll be enchained
for all your life.
Now is the time to run.
by Rick Young | Jan 3, 2015 | Poem
Some things in life aren’t too pretty:
acid trips in Kansas City;
motorcades in downtown Dallas;
racks and shackles in the palace;
fast foods made with rats and roaches;
little league abusive coaches;
bible thumpers and their fandom;
drones that seem to kill at random;
mortars, missiles, bombs and rockets;
tortured limbs pulled out of sockets;
monsters, misers, cheaters, beaters;
grimy thugs with gats and heaters.
Some things in life aren’t too fair:
many people just don’t care.
