Pack a can,
Squash a train,
Tap a toe,
Wait for RAIN.
Paper dolls and pinup gals,
Dresser drawers filled with towels.
Homemade soup and button down collars,
Pinto beans and greens called collards.
Priceless articles rusted through,
And you sitting there in your fruit of looms.
Look at your hands,
Take a walk on easy street.
Send the snow and send me a taxi,
I’m playing golf with my best friend Maxi.
You might be slow and sluggish in speed
An IQ test revealed your greed.
And the right frontal lobe was stir fried and baked.
A can of spam,
And a pan of cake.
You ruled the world for a tiny spell,
And Patsy says’s we’re all gonna burn in HELL.
The dishes pile up like flapjacks in the sink.
Sticky syrup and blueberry seeds.
Glasses encrusted with milk soured stains,
And your hair smells like putrid worm soaked rain.
Your breath is a combination of mustard and kraut,
Pickles and onions, parsley, and beets. . .
It festers, it boils,
I tell you it REEKS!
I drizzle the olive oil in the Pan,
And eat your brain of tasteless spam.
Don’t worry I sent you some broccoli trees,
And a bushel of walnuts that look like matter,
And all along the stove egg splatters. . .
Taco shells and fajitas with guacamole,
And Patsy says we’re anything but HOLY.
I’ll not eat your chicken fried steak,
Your ham, your spam, on paper plates.
I’ll not wear your hand-me-downs,
I’m headed to the palace to collect my crowns.
The seed did burst,
The flower did bloom,
And you took pruning shears and cut me in two.
SNIP, SNIP, snip. . .
You underestimate the One in control,
You underestimated the size of my load,
My passion for truth,
The fact that my mother named me Ruth.
I’m coming back
Yes, again I’ll RISE.
Like yeasty dough and all-purpose flour.
Like buttermilk biscuits with strawberry jam,
And Patsy says she don’t give a $%#@!
Velvet red petals bring an aroma of perfume,
And dead dreams in winter
Thaw out in June.
I fly words like a kite in spring,
Through the winds of my spirit,
Through the winds of my wings,
I claw, I crawl, I bend my knees,
This purple sun and red burnt clay,
May it SHINE through the broken,
Shine through the rain.
Storms can’t break my trunk, my tree.
I sway, I bend,
I dig down deep.
My roots stretch forth through darkened earth,
Pushing down and thrusting through,
Towards the light of the milky MOON.