Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Rodak's Writings

X

Her Gentleman Callers

This one wags his words
Like a puppy dog watching
Its bowl fill up with kibble.

That one has himself photographed
Trying to look like Snoop Dog
From the cab of a redneck pickup.

Over there another one
Is signing autographs through the window
Of the car he’s living in.

Here comes the one whose sister
Is a crack whore living in his garage
On table scraps and insect protein.

That youthful wanker there has
“The wogs begin at Calais”
Inked across his Dover-white arse.

And then there’s me
Throwing elbows in the crush:
We all love ya, lady, don’t we guys?
X

4 comments:

Lynne H. said...

This is awesome.. I love the kight-hearted way you took with this..
Hmm, feels oddly familiar..
On second thought, no..
Great poem Rodak!!!1

Lynne H. said...

typos-light-hearted..

Val said...

Like this muchos muchos.

Rodak said...

Thanks to each of you! :-)