When I was a child
- uphill both ways through the snow -
trick or treats were canned beans
or frozen pot roast or
if we were lucky,
an apple
or if we were really lucky,
it had a razor blade in it!
We would sterilize and collect those blades
and sell them back to the scrap steel mill
at cost plus two over 11.
It was one of the many ways of getting by
when I was a child
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.
but aren't they all random?
Friday, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Big Number Nine
Big Number 9 ain't got no problems
Nobody gives him any.
He walks around like he owns the place
like maybe he does own the place
like he knows who owns the place
and maybe it's him.
Yup. Big ol' Big Number 9.
All leaned-back strut
with his chest puffed out
like a big ol' barrel
in a tight white tee
and a big red 9 on it.
And who's going to mess
with that?
Nobody's gonna mess.
Not with Big Number Nine.
Nobody gives him any.
He walks around like he owns the place
like maybe he does own the place
like he knows who owns the place
and maybe it's him.
Yup. Big ol' Big Number 9.
All leaned-back strut
with his chest puffed out
like a big ol' barrel
in a tight white tee
and a big red 9 on it.
And who's going to mess
with that?
Nobody's gonna mess.
Not with Big Number Nine.
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