Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Rodak's Writings


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?


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...


Val said...

Like this muchos muchos.

Rodak said...

Thanks to each of you! :-)