Monday, December 29, 2008

Jonny B. Goode

Jonny B. Goode was a good race horse,
He did what he was told,
He was worked to the bone,
He ran and ran, and ran some more,
But he did this all to make his owner happy,
But his owner was dead and old and cold,
And treated old Jonny pretty crappy,
But old Jonny B. Goode gave it his all,
Until that one fatal fall.

Old Jonny B. Goode was getting ready for his biggest race,
At the Kentucky Derby,
The owner came in when Jonny was in a good practice pace,
And he said:
"Jonny you better win this event,
or you are eternally spent
and I am sending you to the glue factory."
Jonny knew what that meant,
When there was glue,
There was no more you.

Jonny B. Goode was ready to go,
There was no way he could be slow,
When the race started the crowd started chanting:
Go go
Go Jonny go
Go Jonny go
Go Jonny go
Go Jonny go
Jonny B. Goode

Jonny was almost done,
He would have won,
If not for that fall,
His legs broke,
And old Jonny had a stroke.

Later on at the farm,
Jonny B. Goode was looking around,
He was in all casts,
He knew he was at his lasts,
He gave a final plea,
"There's gotta be something you can do for me.
You can bring me to a farm or a petting zoo."
The owner said:
"There's nothing I can do.
We had a deal.
Maybe to God you can appeal.
Maybe you thought I was being funny.
I was not.
You can't make me more money.
So now you must go."
Jonny saw the white glue truck,
He knew he was eternally fucked.

*Ha Pat I can make a poem that rhymes.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Bubble Boy

I am the Bubble Boy whose bubble just burst,
I feel like I am sucker punched,
There's no oxygen, no air,
I am falling in crap,
In the happiness of my toilet,
Without my bubble,
I feel like I have no arms or legs,
I am just an amputated torso,
The bubble was lighter than air,
It made me rise higher than I ever was,
Even though it was mostly hot air,
It made me happy,
The bigger they are the harder they fall,
Without my bubble,
My pure conscience is infected with feelings of doubt, deception, and disrespect,
Now I am just a boy,
Who's a renegade runnning from his former self,
I am just a Torn Prince.

*Disclaimer: This is not an emo poem. There is no mention of blood, darkness, or death anywhere in the poem. So shut up Nick!

Wednesday, December 3, 2008


Darkness is the abyss of all life,
It is the prison in which all your loves and desires are held
Where your pressures are weakly held by a raging hellhound
Scratching, biting, clawing it plays with your heart, eats it, and spits it back out,
More wrangled and disgusting than before,
Darkness can consume you and then you become my mother, bitter and bitchy,
Darkness is very comforting as well,
It is the nice pat on the back that says, “Better luck next time.”
It is a sweet lullaby you can hear your parents sing,
It is the end to a bad day and the start of another,
Most prefer to sleep,
I prefer to stay awake and let the darkness embrace me like a warm blanket,
Without darkness, you would not have the tunnel or the light

Sincerely, Jon S.