oh hey teacher no i’m no poet
no need to give me your Conklin pen
i’m just a kid from down the nickel loud mouth
skidded knees cigarette boozer
blood upon her sleeve
reveler of sunsets procrastinator in the dawn
i am the honey of her thighs
and the pulsing bang bang of his gun
but hey psssst mister i ain’t no poet
bawdy as all hell quiet when i need to be
if some angel fell in hell
i’ll go fetch em’ Darla Hood impersonator feeler of the waste
inside their eyes corny graffiti kids
longing for the it apps to arrive
liquor store dwelling social services auditor
of her majesty the street but mister
i assure you mister i ain’t no poet
AC/DC cranker upper Curtis Mayfield fuck play it louder
poker player chopper rider star watcher little fighter
hey man call me foolish lady riff raff heart on fire
but hey seriously i am what He says i am
so yeah mac i ain’t no poet
words less spoken 
Reading your poetry makes me feel calm.
This poem of yours rings punk rock! In your face poetry for the masses. Love this. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Charlie that’s a great compliment ✌so glad u got the spirit of the piece 🤘🤘🤘
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are so welcome my friend. 🙂
And speaking of punk rock. Here’s a song that will bring a smile. It’s punk.
Pailhead I Will Refuse – The intro is long so forward it to 1:41 seconds and the vocals will kick in. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You welcome. 🙂
LikeLike
Reblogged this on words less spoken and commented:
from the depot 🙂
LikeLike
“…er, let this one through.
she says she ain’t no poet.”
“ok, captain.”
*raises barrier, ushers*
xoxo
LikeLiked by 1 person
lol too early in the US for space travel Master Reeves. thanks for visiting xoxo
LikeLiked by 1 person
“y’all come back real soon, y’hear.”
🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
xoxo
LikeLike
I respectfully disagree.
LikeLiked by 1 person