May 22, 2012
PASS-TIMES, HOBBIES AND GAMES David Edward Kenny Big time baseball Slap on the back eyes pop and beer flies down your chest cup full of sweat face bloody burst of blue collar veins Intermission take a piss and hope like hell they’re gonna make it go Canadians go this show isn’t over until someone smokes the last of a pack somewhere outside their house in the suburbs staring drunk under the moon bare back porch bulb burning holes while they stand 43 years old and wonder what happened between the first crack of the bat and the seven inning stretch

PASS-TIMES, HOBBIES AND GAMES

David Edward Kenny

Big time baseball

Slap on the back

eyes pop

and beer flies down

your chest

cup full of sweat

face bloody burst of

blue collar veins

Intermission

take a piss

and hope like hell

they’re gonna make it go

Canadians go

this show isn’t over

until someone smokes

the last of a pack

somewhere outside

their house in the suburbs

staring drunk

under the moon

bare back porch bulb

burning holes

while they stand

43 years old

and wonder what happened

between the

first crack of the bat

and the seven inning stretch


(Source: nevver)

8:12am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z15lWyLwl1wf
(Notes: 657)
  
Filed under: Americana Baseball David Edward Kenny Poem Canadiana 
November 24, 2011
150 followers! Great stuff, thanks to everyone who reads Cold Bullets. Here’s a new poem for you all. *********** MINOTAUR  The curse of a thousand plagues Death knell to a million men Cursed by Icarus Trapped by Daedalus He walks in black With the scents of those who have passed on before Fallen to His sword and His horns. Nobody knows He has seen His future Through a gypsy glass His beheading and the tales of His death That will last for eras. History will remember Theseus As an avenger But they do not know He had one wish Death. Better to die Than be cursed With a hunger for man’s flesh. He drags his sword against the brick And waits.

150 followers! Great stuff, thanks to everyone who reads Cold Bullets. Here’s a new poem for you all.

***********

MINOTAUR 

The curse of a thousand plagues

Death knell to a million men

Cursed by Icarus

Trapped by Daedalus

He walks in black

With the scents of those who have passed on before

Fallen to His sword

and His horns.

Nobody knows

He has seen His future

Through a gypsy glass

His beheading

and the tales of His death

That will last for eras.

History will remember Theseus

As an avenger

But they do not know He had one wish

Death.

Better to die

Than be cursed

With a hunger for man’s flesh.

He drags his sword against the brick

And waits.

8:29pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z15lWyCMjnfc
(Notes: 4)
  
Filed under: Minotaur Poem Cail Writing Labyrinth 
August 15, 2011
The Orange Bears by Kenneth Patchen 

The Orange bears with soft friendly eyes
Who played with me when I was ten,
Christ, before I'd left home they'd had
Their paws smashed in the rolls, their backs
Seared by hot slag, their soft trusting
Bellies kicked in, their tongues ripped
Out, and I went down through the woods
To the smelly crick with Whitman
In the Haldeman-Julius edition,
And I just sat there worrying my thumbnail
Into the cover---What did he know about
Orange bears with their coats all stunk up with soft coal
And the National Guard coming over
From Wheeling to stand in front of the millgates
With drawn bayonets jeering at the strikers?

I remember you would put daisies
On the windowsill at night and in
The morning they'd be so covered with soot
You couldn't tell what they were anymore.

A hell of a fat chance my orange bears had!

3:10am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z15lWy8KVhiA
Filed under: Kenneth Patchen Poem 
June 28, 2011
RACING THE NORTH WIND The fox sits silentSurveying the incoming storm.The White flurryfurious at the lightHungers for his sanctuary.Luckily, he is blessed with speed and wit.With great hasteHe dives into the dark of his woodsThe trees towering aboveDraw their branches together As the snow pounds against their trunksThe fox turns and dances on his hind legs Laughing at the White. He turns and runs again Disappearing into a tunnel of darkness that swallows him whole and complete. photo - John Fiorucci words - Cail

RACING THE NORTH WIND
 
The fox sits silent
Surveying the incoming storm.
The White flurry
furious at the light
Hungers for his sanctuary.
Luckily, he is blessed with speed and wit.
With great haste
He dives into the dark of his woods
The trees towering above
Draw their branches together
As the snow pounds against their trunks
The fox turns and dances on his hind legs

Laughing at the White.

He turns and runs again
 Disappearing into a tunnel of darkness that swallows him whole and complete.

photo - John Fiorucci

words - Cail

(Source: nevver)

9:29pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z15lWy6YTP7B
(Notes: 663)
  
Filed under: Fox Cail Writing Poem 
January 29, 2011
LATE NIGHT JUKEBOX JUNKIE

There’s two dollars left in the wallet on my lap
Man, it has seen better days.
The heating bill is overdue
And the landlord won’t stop calling.
I disconnected the phone but
He keeps banging on the window pane.

I’m packin’ up this battered suitcase
Filled with diamond rings, a Santa outfit and my taxidermist’s will
He left me all of his stock
And I’ve got just one question for you:
Could your porch use a stuffed rabbit?

I saw this girl I used to know
She wore the North Wind like a shawl
Wrapped around her neck.
Her arms were like trumpets
Hair like a fisherman’s net.

I’m on the street corner
Small change in my bowler hat
Buskin’ for a Greyhound ticket
Headin’ back to
New Orleans.

-Cail Judy

January 2011

9:33pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z15lWy2on1_9
Filed under: Poem Cail Writing Cail Writing 
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