Buncha doped up hippies
beatin' on their drums...Buncha drunken rednecks
beatin' on their women!
Buncha doped up hippies
dancin' in the street...
Buncha drunken rednecks
PEEING in the street!
Buncha doped up hippies
hitting you up for spare change...
Buncha drunken rednecks
hitting you UPSIDE THE HEAD!
Buncha doped up hippies
could greatly benefit from higher consciousness...
Buncha drunken rednecks
could greatly benefit from higher IQ.
Buncha doped up hippies
face down in the potato salad...
Buncha drunken rednecks
face down in the potato salad!!
Life has a way
of ironing out
the little differences
between us.
haha in the end we all are...and that is it...dang why waste the tater salad too...
ReplyDeleteBRIAN: I think they at least inhaled some of it!
ReplyDeleteReal toads sounds like some secret poet's society to me ... hmmm, don't waste the precious tater salad though, eh?, 'cause it's lots of work to make ... see you round. Love, cat.
ReplyDeleteAwesome poem dude... I don't normally address poets (or anyone) as "dude" but your poem inspired me to take on the persona of some really cool, yet freaky poet. Seriously, I really liked this. It's so clever and fun to read, yet the message, to me, has many layers. I read your profile and I too use books as oracles or they use me as the case may be! I don't know when it started but it never fails to amaze me. But I never told anyone. It feels good to come out of that closet! Thank you! I'm so glad I found my way to your poem today. This is what I love about the on-line community. You never know what treasure you're gonna find.
ReplyDeleteHa Im not sure which I am... coz I like potato salad
ReplyDeleteThey do indeed. Such insight.
ReplyDeleteI am still laughing! I couldn't tell where you were going with this, but I was with you all the way!
ReplyDeleteI loved this! I'm not sure which side I'd fall on. I do tend towards an enlightened redneck. Is that possible?
ReplyDeleteHilarious, and all the more so because it's just freakin true.
ReplyDeletehmmmm. i can relate. just stay away from me, you misbehaving drunks!
ReplyDeleteMade me chuckle out loud! Yeah, life does have a way of evening the score...but don't like anyone face down in my potato salad!
ReplyDeleteHighlarious! I howled!
ReplyDeleteThanks everyone...so happy you "got off" on this one!
ReplyDeleteSERENA: Welcome, and I'm happy to help you out of that closet...a bit musty smelling in there anyway with all those old books piled up! Here's something else that I won't tell anyone but you...I like to sniff the pages of books...I'll be reading along and something will tell me to sniff the page...and every book smells a little bit different...it's a kind of osmosis thing...absorbing a certain essence from the pages that you don't get by mere reading.
AUDREY: "Highlarious." Cool word, you clever lady...and so apropos.
CAT: Ya gotta give the tater salad that the drunks went face first into to the dogs...cuz they probably barfed in it!
This would make a fantastic song!
ReplyDeleteOh my God. This is SPECTACULARLY good! I so love it. And the way you see life, my friend.
ReplyDeleteI love intellectual poetry. Your analysis of the human condition is breathtaking.
ReplyDeleteThe message is wonderfully put in a playful manner. Great
ReplyDeleteHeh heh. Mmmmmm, potato salad. Playful and funny, but with something real behind the laughing. Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteDon't think I will look at potato salad in quite the same way ... maybe that's a good thing? Great write!!
ReplyDeleteLol this was a fun read, loved the song-like beat and humor in the poem.
ReplyDeleteMy father was a hippy,
My mother was one too;
His mind was kind of skippy,
But that’s them marijuana blues.
Mind blowing.... absolutely loved this....
ReplyDeleteErm, can my salad be beets and arugula instead of potato? I'm a high maintenance face-down drunk!
ReplyDeleteMAROUSIA, SHERRY, ANONYMOUS, KIANA, LOOKINGFORROOTS, HELEN, FRANK, SREEJA: Thanks so much, you lovely souls!
ReplyDeleteKOBI KO: Anything for you, my dear. But I think your face will turn "beet" red!