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Poetry by
Kevin La Rock
Country
United
States
Flavor of
the Weak
And the candle blazed from north and south,
right up Jack’s jumping ass.
A noose knots the end of your rope,
skating on broken glass.
So tightly wound and spun like a top,
your panties all in a wad.
All dressed up on the road to nowhere,
time to lose the facade.
Your chip has evolved into an ape,
and hatched a skeleton.
Basking there upon your shoulder,
toasting shots of gin.
Poor Chicken Little; the sky fell down on you,
yet still you do not see.
You took the ferry, now pay the toll,
aren’t you listening to me?
Round and pound into the ground you go,
escape the carousel.
Hurry up and stop, before its time to go,
and you find yourself in hell.
Wake up and go to sleep,
in what flavor you do you dream?
Life is too short for Rocky Road,
why don’t you
try Vanilla Cream...
Kevster 03'
copyright: Kevin M. La Rock 2004
In the Pool
I was too young to know,
and to dumb to care.
I didn't even realize,
when I saw you there.
Floating in the pool,
atop the rippled water.
Tonka Truck in hand,
I called out to our mother.
"Mom! Mark is in the pool!"
was all I had to say.
Father out cutting wood,
Mom was in the whey.
Dad just dropped his axe,
and leapt over the wall.
He dove into the shallow end,
his head helped break his fall.
Mother came running out,
shrieking screams of pain,
tears streaming from her face,
pouring out like rain.
She jumped into the pool,
her robe flowed out behind her.
Like a horses mane,
in a gallop with no rider.
Although still in a daze,
Daddy scooped you up.
He carried you up the stairs,
then dropped his little pup.
Mom was screaming at our Dad,
all was just a mess.
Dad pushed water from your lungs,
he tried his very best.
Blood dripped from his brow,
into his frightened eye,
then found it's way down his cheek,
Daddy's bloody cry.
Rang out so loud across the land,
and echoed through the hills,
though not a word came from his mouth,
yet, still it gives me chills.
Mother tried and tried in vane,
frantically she blew,
into your tiny lips,
although your face was blue.
"BREATHE FOR MOMMY BABY,
OH PLEASE! MARK BABY BREATHE!"
She picked you up in her arms,
and screamed out, "PLEASE GOD! NO!"
The pain I saw in her eyes,
I hope I'll never know.
She whisked you off to the car,
Our old Ford Station Wagon.
I was in the back with Mo'
a stick we were a' dragging.
Then there was an ambulance,
Dad did not hesitate,
he cut them off and stopped them there,
but, really much too late.
For all the Kings horses,
nor any Fire-men,
could ever bring, my little bro,
back to life again.
"We took your bro to heaven."
Mother said to me.
I was half of eleven,
and you were less than three.
I look back now and laugh,
although it isn't funny.
For I know he is in Heaven,
on that you can bet money.
I miss my little bro,
though he I never knew.
I wonder what he'd be today,
or now what he could do.
Would he have changed the world?
Was he the missing link?
Would me life be much different,
or still be on the brink?
So, save a place for me, dear bro,
right next to you in heaven.
I'll be there really soon,
or my name isn't Kevin
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