Petey Boy dot com » poetry

Walking home from class

Petey Boy — Sun, 28 Dec 2008 20:51:00 +0000

I’m moving my website around and so I’ve imported my poetry into this blog. I was tagging all of them and then I came upon this poem. It was only a draft, so I’m going to share it with ya’ll. It’s about my experience getting bitten by a dog. Originally from Sept. 2005

thinking about loud neighbors
I want to sleep with no noise

I look at house number 825
the door opens
a big dog running towards me
a man yelling for it to stop

I’m not afraid

it happens so fast
I don’t notice the pain
six scrapes on top
all in a row
and two holes below them
those are new

my face must look funny to the owner
I’m still not afraid
still not in pain

“did he get you?”
I look down again
missing skin
puncture wounds
“yes sir, he did”

I go inside this house
a mess of a home
the short stubbing wife
getting me some hydrogen p
“it might sting”
she’s nervous
I’m nervous
I feel bad
I’ve ruined these people’s day

Ode to Kinkade

Petey Boy — Wed, 28 Jun 2006 16:10:00 +0000

poetry mathmatically calculated
drifts unknowingly into
tempered ears

Bent jaggedly over empty paper
our machine-molded writer drips pretty words
from his sweat filled glands

untrained ears run swiftly
to caress the leaked grease
restlessly pouring from wealthy vats

“I just want to write what is in my head
straight onto the paper.
I want the world to see my thoughts and know
that they are mine.

Art is a chore.”

Quiet like restful discretion

Petey Boy — Wed, 22 Mar 2006 15:10:00 +0000

Quiet like restful discretion
m’lady full of weak trivia
and the loose purse strings plead promises
with dawdling words and greasy chips

scullery maids rot on Cyprus
peeled potatoes and blood stained sheets

the amber green lighting hovers breathless
against “I’m sure”s and “It ain’t ‘alf swank”

they settle on hussy tips and fancy falls
chat business buzz, gulled mates, and known saints

what’s more the venician washer donna
scrubbing rudeness from dear impatience
stiff formalities playing roman order
flowing with careful wine and thankful sneakers

rotten tempers are recognized by sight
and the spilt vinegar hollow out an old womb
but the detest of a stingy maid is devoted to earn a living

now then, to our health
mending husbands and tearing the crotch holes
and all of us bleed’n laughter at the expense
of pigs asking about size

the daft wine is of no matter
and falsely slashed throats provide
no goat cheese by their word of honor

death’s laughter is hushed by Adam and Eve’s beatings.

Look

Petey Boy — Mon, 13 Feb 2006 15:47:00 +0000

Look at life please for life

not some
career driven
people pleasing
money making
baby producing
beer drinking
waste of an existence

life is a noun yes
to live it requires a verb
it requires action
uninhibited action
meaningful action

a get-off-your-second-hand-leather-couch
turn-off-your-blabbering-boob-tube
step-outside-and-look-at-the-lush-trees-grow
kind of action

without thought
without worry
without looking around and taking into account
the programmed subordinates
pointing
and questioning
and spewing out nothing words
full of terrible hurt and verbal pain

trees grow slow
yes… But have you seen it

Glorious Adjectives and Monstrous Adverbs

Petey Boy — Fri, 11 Nov 2005 22:10:00 +0000

cleverly written upon the back of a ketchup stained napkin
melancholy imagery eerily shakes the rigid minds
of those fearless executives
as they loudly slurp their watered-down coffee

and the angst filled punks
sit silently staring
at the giant maple trees
as they tumble vigorously to the ground
and the slurping is unavoidably heard
above the boisterous crash of nature’s old friend

and the innocent napkin is burned

Banquet

Petey Boy — Fri, 04 Nov 2005 21:28:00 +0000

Mom’s special
Crepes on Saturday
For breakfast
The dessert of kings

My siblings
And I
Sit on our thrones
Around the kitchen table
Immersed in our golden plates
Full of freash sourcream
And newly picked strawberries
And the finest powdered sugar
No conversation

Just wind

Echoing across the great hall

When the meal ends
An uproar of applause
Breaks the silence
To honor
The Cook

Then we return to our lives
As peasants
On a special
Saturday morning

see it

Petey Boy — Tue, 13 Sep 2005 21:36:00 +0000

Things….

I know things
roses and trees
fences outside my window
the mosquitoes fly through the crack in the screen

colder would be nice
jackets
sweaters
a hug

a fresh rain
optimism
reflection
eyes

your beautiful eyes
full of life
full of joy
full of love

blinded
by selfish thoughts
two people’s thoughts
two people’s lies

holding hands
is truth
love
together

the blind eyes sees the truth of love

pianos

Petey Boy — Sat, 25 Jun 2005 01:31:00 +0000

sometimes the songs surrond my mind
but rarely
oh so rarely

once in a while though
a glimmer
from a candle
burns me

and the birds fly
and the disgusted songs of small children
and the dogs yelping at the frog complacency
and the chipmunks chatter their teeth for reason that we have known

and for sometime the things that we thought
the things that are different
the things that make the world sad
those are the pieces that hold
together
the ground

not gravity
not spinning
not love or hate
not a soul
just sadness

look around

Amazing

Petey Boy — Sat, 25 Jun 2005 01:27:00 +0000

Maybe things really are amazing
perhaps a few
but don’t over use
don’t abuse
choose carefully
the things that make life so good as to call them
amazing

fantastic

yeah, i know
we all know
don’t worry about those things

The Pin Cushion

Petey Boy — Thu, 05 May 2005 05:17:00 +0000

This is an oldie, from March 18th, 2003… this was for my Creative writing class; enjoy:

A pin cushion on my wrist
what a glorious thing
to put a pin in my arm
and the feeling doesn’t sting

I used to put them in my arm
I could get them out with ease
But at the end of the day
My arm looked like swiss cheese