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Category Archives: poems

Plastic Sweetheart

22 Sunday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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inflatable dolls

I look under my bed

where my sweetheart likes to sleep

She is laying there all quite

she doesn’t make a peep

She only comes out occasionally

maybe about three times a week

I give her a bit of a wash

and she shines like brand new

She doesn’t look like anybody

Or maybe just a bit like you

I took her shopping the other day

I got a lot of curious glances

Cause my baby squeaks  when she

walks.

She has an O for a mouth

So she cant really talk

We couldn’t get home quick enough

My sweetheart crawled under the bed

She looked really sad

and kind of deflated

The next day we decided to try again

We went to the beach

There was a good breeze blowing

and my sweetheart started to float

away

I tied her down with fishing line

so she didn’t stray.

And still she didn’t have anything to say

She started to squirm and squeak

looking lost and uncomfortable

She had sand in every crevice and crack

We left the beach

and we didn’t go back

We got back home

and we needn’t something to eat

I fed her with a spoon

but she was full

she didn’t have any room

The next day we thought we would

go to the Cinema

What could go wrong inside?

Just then I heard a whistling sound

My  baby was going down on me

And not in the way that you think

She looked at me disparingly

and she started to shrink

Jesus,get me out of here

I need a goddamn drink.

I tucked her under my arm

and made my way to my car

Blue lights flashing in my rear

view mirror

We didn’t get very far.

Mr Policeman knocks on my window

and asks me for my licence

He glances over at my girlfriend

Sitting there all quiet

looking a bit under the weather

And he says’Have I got a licence

for that?’

‘For what?’ I ask.

He said that if you want to own a

plastic sweetheart

You have to pay the price

He said that if I don’t pay

‘How long do you think your secret

will last.’

‘Word around here travels very fast.’

So I handed him $1oo

and we were on our way.

Mr Policeman looked at me

and said ‘Have a nice day.’

On our way home

I stopped to buy some skin tone

patches

We get home and I lock the door with

all three latches.

I don’t want to get interrupted.

My plastic sweetheart

just lays there on the floor.

All untidy and crumpled up

She needs some care a bit of air.

So I am pumping away

getting all sweaty and hot

Come on baby breath that air

so we can jump in the cot.

Nothing seems to be happening

My sweetheart is still deflated

My plastic sweetheart is overrated.

The next morning and the pump has

done its job.

My plastic sweetheart is all full of

life.

Foot loose and fancy free.

I am going to fill her with something

about 10cc.

This cant go on

people are starting to talk

They are saying that my sweetheart

isn’t real.

That she is a fake.

And that she is only after one thing.

And that one thing is a wedding ring.

Come now I am not crazy

I know that after a few beers

I can get kind of hazy.

But I know the difference between

right and wrong.

I know the difference between plastic

and human flesh.

Is it love that I am feeling?

That is mighty debatable.

Cause you see.

My sweetheart is inflatable.

 

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Death Row Inmate #2309

20 Friday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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death row, old sparky

You mightn’t have heard my name

But I was in the news about a decade

ago.

They say that I committed a murder.

But I never did.

I sit here on death row

I am inmate #2309.

It is written on the front of my prison

issue uniform.

The brightest Orange that you have ever

seen.

I sit here all day and night

just  staring at the walls.

Thinking about outside this cell

Thinking about my wife

Thinking about my life.

There are thirty days,before they

fire up old sparky.

I will sizzle like a steak

Maybe boil like a Potato.

Fried or boiled

I will be dead either way.

 

My appeal is in motion

But I have been appealing for

years.

Maybe I am not very appealing.

Lawyer after lawyer.

They tell the same old story.

We need new fresh evidence.

To take before the judge.

I need an eye witness.

They say that they found my DNA.

I wasn’t there

I swear on my mothers grave.

I sit here all day and night

Thinking about the sunshine

Thinking about sex

Thinking about what comes next.

By the way,my name is Cletus.

Cletus Williams

I am a 33yr old black man

from Mississippi.

Wishing I was someplace else.

The murder happened in 2005

on March 1st.

A little girl named Carly Nom

was abducted and killed

just a block from my home.

They say that black don’t crack

that we all look the same.

I must have a lookalike out there

I wish he would come forward

So I don’t sit in the hot seat.

25 days to go before my execution

25 days to get my affairs in order

25 days,I got to ring my lawyer.

My lawyer says that she is trying

but things are moving slow

If there is any news

She will let me know

My life is hanging by a thread

I need that phone call

I sit all day and night

Now I am doing pushups

Thinking about that phone call

Thinking about Ma and Pa

Thinking about the blues

20 days to go

And my phone call is finally here

My lawyer tells me that there has been

a development.

And that she will keep in touch

Keep in touch!

I need more then touch

I need some action

My time is running short

Time is going so fast

only 10 more days before I am

strapped to old sparky.

I cant eat I cant sleep

Only 5 more days

My arrives in person

She is very optimistic

It seems that there is a family

secret

A secret my Ma has kept to

herself her whole life

Now I find out that I have a twin brother

A brother who was adopted out at birth

An identical twin brother

A twin with the same DNA.

My lawyer told me that they are

searching the birth records

But so they cant find any evidence

of his birth

All they have is my Ma’s word.

How could my Ma leave me sitting in

this cell.

For all of these years

When she knew that I was innocent

I sit here all day and night

watching the news on TV.

Thinking that maybe they will air my story

Thinking about well thinking

thinking about all kinds of things

Thinking about old sparky

Maybe there will be a blackout.

The night before my execution

I am given my last meal

Chicken and rice and some juice.

A Priest arrives and says some words

that I don’t really hear.

The next morning at 6am

A couple of guards come to escort me

to the execution room.

I get off my bed

Have my last look at my cell

The guards grab my arms and

lead me down

Down the corridor of pain

The corridor of shame.

The execution is painted a dull Green.

It is funny the things that you think about

The tears are running down my face

Urine running down my legs

Where is my Ma?

Where is my lawyer?

They strap that funny metal cap on to

my head.

Maybe there will be a short circuit

Maybe they have converted to gas.

The phone rings in the next room

The Warden has the phone to his ear

A funny look comes across his face

Is that look good or bad?

It must have been good

Because I am unstrapped.

From that chair

I am led back to my cell

Where I need time to myself

And a change of underwear.

It turns out that they finally have

located my twin brother.

Unfortunately,there has been

another murder.

My is caught at the scene.

The DNA is a match.

I am finally released

The Govenor has given me a pardon.

I am sitting at the bus stop

waiting for my ride home.

Thinking about my future

will I get a job.

Will I meet a girl and get married.

Thinking about all of those wasted

years.

Thinking about

Well you don’t want to know what I

am thinking about

I am free.

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Creepy Movie

17 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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beer, scary movies

Ah yes,this is the life

laying back having a few beers.

I am about to watch a movie.

As my friends will tell you

I am not exactly a movie fanatic

I might watch one or two a year.

Okay time to get started

time to get my arse into gear.

I got to the fridge to get a fresh brew.

Then I sit in my chair,and press play.

The movie I am about to watch

Is a creepy movie.

Straight away I am starting to get nervous

a bit apprehensive.

Beads of sweat dot my forehead.

My nerves are somewhat sensitive.

The first victim falls to the ground

The head goes one way

The body the other.

I give a little jump

and said something like ‘sweet mother.’

I cant believe that much blood can come

out of one person.

The blood fills the screen

The blood fills my mind.

I will have a few more beers

It will give me something to hide

behind.

After about an hour

I pick up the remote,and hit pause.

Not that I am scared or anything.

Just well,just because.

I look at the TV screen

and all I can see is Red

Maybe it is time to finish my Beer

and head off to bed.

But no, I am watching a movie

and watch a movie I shall.

Victim number three or maybe five

lays splattered on the floor

I hope like hell that she survives

But going by all the blood and gore

I know that is wishful thinking

My bladder is full

My heart is sinking.

I go to the fridge for a refill

and settle in front of the screen

I hit play and victim six

is sliced,diced and ground.

I know one thing for sure

She is no longer around.

My bladder is bursting

I need some relief

I need to visit the bathroom

I need to go now

No more beers for me

Not for ten minutes,anyhow.

The tension is building

I am waiting for victim number seven

to appear

Here she comes right on cue

The Diceman is waiting

ready to slash and burn

Victim seven doesn’t have long to wait

It is now her turn.

Man this is really getting to me

all that suffering and pain

Yeah,I know it is just a movie

and none of it is real.

I know that I am a wuss bag.

But I cant help the way I feel.

Victim number eight is running late

The movie hits a flat spot.

It is time for a snack.

Some Vegemite on toast.

Now that really hits the mark

Now back to watching the movie

Sitting alone in the dark.

Victim number eight  acts like Paris

Hilton.

All wooden

About as sexy as a mannequin.

But the Paris lookalike try’s her best

But she is riding a wave

that will never crest.

My mind starts  to  wander

This movie is getting on my nerves

I have ben watching this crap for over

an hour

Which is fifty minutes more then it deserves.

But wait a minute

I think that the Diceman is looking my way.

He his looking past the camera

Past the TV screen

The Diceman is one nasty fiend.

I rub my eyes

And I have another look

The Diceman gives me a wink

and a little smirk

I think that the Diceman is sbout to go

to work.

Surely this isn’t real

He is just a movie bad guy.

But the Diceman looks me straight in

the eye.

And whispers my name

And I know that I am in the middle

of a deadly game.

I think Jesus these movies are really

getting interactive.

This getting to know the characters

is really going a bit overboard.

Am I about to feel the edge of a sword?

The Diceman looks at me with deadly

intentions.

I say,hold the phone ‘I have a couple of

questions.’

But the Diceman doesn’t have any answers

All he has is bad acting and a sword.

I am really getting worried

My scrotum heads towards my throat

I am in a boat

That doesn’t want to float.

But then I get some inspiration.

And I pick up the remote

and I press stop.

The Diceman disappears

along with all of my fears.

 

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Am I Late?

15 Sunday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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bullying, running late

I have never been on time

not once in my life.

I live in my own little world

Where time seems to move in

another dimension.

It all started on the day I was born.

I was three day’s overdue.

My mother was pushing and pushing.

I finally came out with a sound like

a whoopee cushion.

It was all noises and pains

I could have sworn.

That was the day I was born.

My first day going to school.

I get up on the Sunday morning

all excited.

Where is everybody?

Am I late?

No,you fool,you are one day early.

I finally get it right and get to the Bus

stop at 8.55.

That’s a pity,cause the bus left five

minute’s ago.

My body is fine.

But my mind is on ‘I don’t want to go

to school’ time.

When I was nine yrs old

I started to play Rugby League.

We played in black and gold.

The same colour’s as the Tiger’s.

We played our game at three

but I arrived at four.

I don’t play Rugby League no more.

I got to buy myself a watch.

Or maybe I can tell time by the Star’s.

Yeah right,maybe I can also live on Mar’s.

I don’t mean to be late

I alway’s want to be on time.

Just like the weather alway’s want’s to

be fine.

But it never seem’s to work out that way.

My first day at high school

And I am freaking like a freak.

My mouth is open

But I can not speak.

First lesson is at 9.00am

I roll up at five past.

I try to sneak in,maybe the

teacher want notice.

He noticed alright,he gave me

six hit’s of the cane.

Jesus,that hurt

I am a skinny little fellow

And I hated being hit by that piece

of willow.

Why couldn’t I be late for that?

For pain,i am on time

For fun,i am alway’s late

The other kid’s saw through all of

my ruse’s.

And in revenge,they gave me a whole

lot of pain and bruise’s.

Finally,my last day at school

I am all smile’s and high five’s

I got out of that fucking hell alive.

Sorry for getting off the subject

Which is,Am I Late?

But writing this brought back memorie’s

that I detest.

Maybe now,i can lay my school day,s to rest

After all that cruelty and humiliation

that they call education

I am ready to move on

My first day at work

Am I late?

Yes I am,but it wasn’t my fault

I read the bus timetable wrong

and I arrived a bit late

probably by about two hours

My boss wasn’t impressed

And he asked me ‘Cant you read a watch

or a clock?’

I said of course I could

‘Maybe you can suck my          ‘

So,anyway,at my new job interview

I am only fifteen minutes late

I told the interviewer,that I had

to wash my Cat.

He just pointed at the door

And that was that.

I was unemployed for a while

I had interview after interview

I was never on time

But I liked the sleep in’s

getting up in time for lunch

But I was running out of cash.

So anyway I met a girl,named

Yolanda.

She was really cute,with a face

like a Panda.

Things were getting hot and heavy

you know,in the bedroom

I was really going well

But then I had this feeling

‘Oh no’

For once in my life,i was early.

Yolanda wasn’t impressed

with my premature finish

And she kicked me out of bed

and I landed on my butt.

I got a bruise,and a nasty little cut.

So after a few girlfriends

I think I have finally found the one.

Her name is Samantha

She is tall and leggy

And she purrs like a Panther.

On our wedding day

I go to the wrong church

Am I late? Of course.

I finally find the right church

I am a little bit late

Only by about an hour and a half

Samantha isn’t impressed

She thinks for a while

And then she kicks me up and down

the church aisle.

Samantha is right footed

And she kicks like a mule.

She wont stand for any nonsense

She is nobody’s fool.

Why am I always late?

I cannot answer that question

I think there is a glitch in my system

I have a lot of ambition

But not much wisdom.

Well anyway,the wedding went ahead

pretty much on time.

only two hours late

Samantha gave me a look

Like she was a shark

And I was the bait.

That was ten years ago

Today is our anniversary

Sometimes we are friends

Sometimes I am her adversary.

We have three lovely kids

two girls and a boy

I missed every birth

I just cant be on time

I missed seeing my kids

take their first breath.

I cant turn back time

I am ashamed by my lack of

punctuality.

People have always told me that I

will be late for my own funeral

Well I hope they are right

That is the one time

When I will gladly be late.

Shit,whats the time?

I have a Doctors appointment

I should have been there an hour

ago.

Why do the hands on my watch move

so slow?

I hold it to my ear

I can hear the ticking

And ten years on and Samantha

is still kicking

I gotta go

I have to stop writing this story

Cause Samantha is the Shark

And I am the John Dory

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Fate

11 Wednesday Feb 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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fate

A Star fell from the Sky

and hit me on the head

I was seeing Star’s,haha.

My head was hurting,it like,bled.

A Train came off the track’s

as I was walking across

I guess that Train told me

who was boss.

I went to the beach

and there was a tidal wave

As I can not swim

I went to my grave.

My leg is hurting

I have a pinched nerve

I think I am getting

more then I deserve.

I went to a fancy restaurant

And ate a meal,with a trace of

nut’s.

As I am allergic

I spewed up my gut’s.

I went bushwalking

And I got bitten by a snake

I fell to the ground

I did not wake.

There are a million way’s to die.

It only take’s one,and you are dead.

Fate is going to grab you

and tell you that your time is up.

Maybe I am dreaming

And it is all in my head.

I went for a swim

And got eaten by a Great White.

It didn’t take much

Just one bite.

I went paint balling

and got hit really bad

Got a welt,got infected

I guess fate was calling

I went to work and I got

attacked by a rabid Chicken

It found my eye’s

And it just kept on picking

sticking,picking,sticking.

Fate,is like your final date

Do all you want to do

before it is to late.

Minute by minute

your time is ticking

But in the meantime

I am still alive and kicking.

I went for a bike ride

Down the Fearnley track

I came off,on a hard shoulder

Fate just looked at me

and said,told ya.

I just wish that fate

would give me a bit of a rest

I have had enough of the pain

I try to be tough

But I guess it aint enough.

I go skydiving

Well you can guess the rest

I land with a thud

I say to fate,thank’s a lot bud.

I go to the letterbox

to collect my mail

And I got stung by a Bee

I have a reaction

I can no longer see.

I go shopping

and get caught shoplifting

Fate is a gift

that keep’s on gifting.

Fate is a word,that I have come

to hate.

You cant escape it

You are caught in it’s web

Spiderbait.

Fate will sneak up behind you

and bite you on the arse

trying to get to the toilet

without a hallway pass.

I played a game of Cricket

The ball hit me in the knacker’s

now they look like

a couple of Jatz cracker’s.

I don’t want to leave the house

inside I am safe and sound

Surely fate cant find you

If you don’t want to be found.

I play a round of Golf

I am swinging

free and easy

I get struck by lightning

while standing

under a tree.

Sitting on an outdoor Dunny

Got bitten by a Red Back Spider

Got bit on the butt crack

By that nasty little Red Back.

In the hospital

recovering from the bite

Laying in my hospital bed

the overhead TV fall’s down

and hit’s me on the head.

It is a bright and sunny day

what could go wrong?

Went for a walk around the lake

Got attacked by a Black Swan.

Okay fate,you win

My hand’s are up,I surrender.

You have got the best of me

from January to December.

I walk around in wrap around sunglasse’s.

So fate cant see my face.

A hat hat complete’s the disguise.

So between me and fate

who will win the race.

Well we all know the answer

fate cant be defeated

You can try all you like

But fate,will not be unseated.

Fate is like a tube of Supa Glue.

He is gonna stick to me and you.

He want give up

he is who he is

I think the time has come

for me to finish this poem

Fate is calling.

He is calling me home.

Well that is all folk’s

Fate has whispered in my ear

He told me

That my time is near.

Well I back answered

And I told fate to fuck off.

He just smiled

and shrugged his shoulder’s.

He told me my life is over

It has unfolded.

I gave it one last effort

and I told Mr fate

that he is unwanted

Can you please just go away

and leave me alone.

He just stared

with a steely look in his eyes

It is time for me to say

my final goodbye’s.

I am still waiting for fate

to knock on my door

I don’t mind waiting

I can wait for year’s

But when he finally say’s

Steven,your time is up.

I will accept my fate.

You cant put your life on hold

Okay fate I will do as I am told

That is it,my time is over.

But could I tempt fate

could I be so bold?

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Cereal Killer

07 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories, Uncategorized

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cereal, killer

There is a monster out there

The press have dubbed the’Cereal Killer’.

There are no half measure’s with this

sadistic killer.

He is all killer,no filler.

He really likes the roughage.

He get’s off on the fibre.

Don’t start me on the Riboflavin,

the Niacin and Folate.

He wander’s the Cereal aisle in your

supermarket,looking for his weapon

of choice.

He pick’s up box after box checking it’s

balance and weight.

This is one man you would love to hate.

He first came to the attention of the Police.

When a guy stumbled out into the street

In a whole lot of pain,he said he was attacked

by a Nutri-Grain.

He said it was like being hit by a freight train.

You don’t mess with the Nutri-Grain.

A while later a guy told the cop’s,that when he

was walking home last night,he was attacked

from behind by something that looked like a

Corn Flake.

To escape,he took a flying leap into the lake.

Their is nothing more dangerous then a soggy

Corn Flake.

Swim as fast as you can for heaven’s sake.

The next day a woman was mugged by a Shredded

Wheet.

Looking mean and nasty and packing heat.

She was left naked and bleeding out in the street.

By something you wouldn’t want to meet.

A mean mother fucking Shredded Wheet.

One of the more dangerous cereal’s is the Vita Brit.

If it hit’s you,you know you have been hit.

It’s like a 100kg piece of shit.

There is nothing meaner then a Vita-Brit.

He might look happy,but look’s can be deceiving.

I am talking about round little cereal,the Cheerio’s.

Who’s weapon of choice is a rubber hose.

You will bleed all over the place,from your Toe’s

up to your Nose.

You have been taken down by the funny little Cheerio’s.

Another cereal to get the Cop’s attention.

Is the sweet little morsel called the Honey Puff.

He doesn’t know the meaning of enough is enough.

He mightn’t look like it,but he is mighty tough.

He will do you in that sweet little morsel the Honey

Puff.

The Cop’s haven’t got a clue how to catch this cereal

menace.

So far there have been no death’s.

But it is only a matter of time.

The Cop’s look at the back of cereal pack’s looking

for a clue.

This cereal menace is coming

.

The Cop’s didn’t have to wait long before it changed from

a menace into a killer.

When a body was found in a meat chiller.

The forensic people arrive at the scene.

And they say that it look’s like the work of a

Weet-Bix..

He had wound’s you could never fix.

The people at the scene have to cover their nose’s

with Vick’s..

Nothing smell’s nastier then the victim of the Weet- Bix.

The Cop’s were frantic,they had to catch this Cereal Killer.

Before he added to his body count.

They staked out the cereal aisle,looking for a cereal with

an evil smile.

The next victim was found in an alley.

He looked like he had been shot.

But after an autopsy.

They realised they were dealing with a Cocoa Pop.

By the state of the body,that Cocoa Pop really went

to town.

Maybe he will never be found.

There is nothing more dangerous then a Chocolate

covered Rice Bubble.

He will cause you pain and a whole lot of trouble.

The Cop’s get a break at the next murder scene.

Where a body of a man was found.

By the look’s of thing’s he was taken out by a Just

Right.

There were no defence wound’s.

So he didn’t get a chance to fight.

But the Just Right has left his print’s at the scene.

The Cop’s arrive at his house,with some Donut’s

and a battering ram.

The Just Right doesn’t go down easy.

He put’s up an almighty fight,he struggle’s,bite’s

and kick’s.

He give’s the Cop’s the fight of their live’s.

But he know’s he isn’t getting out of this alive.

He fought with all his might.

That cereal called the Just Right.

So the next time you have a bowl of cereal.

Just take a little time to think.

Just add sugar and milk.

And it will go down as smooth as Silk.

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Fortune And Fame

17 Wednesday Dec 2014

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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addiction, death, ego, fame, fortune, glory

This is a story about fortune and fame

It might look like an easy life,but you could

end up playing a losing game.

Look at all the movie and rock stars,that have

fallen by the wayside.

They had stars in their eyes,they took a one

way ride.Into hell.

Joey was 16 when he joined his first band.

He was a good singer,but his instrument of

choice,was the guitar.

He was a red hot player,who knew his way

around the fret.

He is going straight to the top,you bet.

Joey’s first band didn’t get that far.

They had their first taste of the bad stuff.

But man that boy can sure play guitar.

But thing’s were getting out of control,so

Joey left,enough was enough.

Joey auditioned for a band that had a strong

following in their home town.

He started to sing lead as well as playing the

six string demon.

He got the gig,playing up front,man they had

an awesome sound.

They played their gig on the Friday night,people

were screaming and dancing in the aisles.

So Joey had his first taste of fortune and fame.

He started to live life in the fast lane.

Still only sixteen,he was on his way.

But deep down joey know’s he cant handle the

fame.

The band went from strength to strength,they did a

few gigs in Sydney,supporting a national act.

They got good reviews in the local press,they were

up and running,and that’s a fact.

So Joey had his second taste of fortune and fame.

He was starting to realise that this was more then a

game.

But he couldn’t keep his feet on the ground,Joey,loved

but at the same time hated the fortune and fame.

The band was really going place’s,they did a demo,looking

for a record deal.

Joey was looking around,thinking is all this for real

Play guitar and sing and all the kid’s are going crazy.

But then thing’s started to get confused,a little hazy.

Joey and the drummer had an argument over money.

Joey was thinking I am the star,i should be paid the most.

The rest of the band didn’t agree,and told Joey that he should

leave.

The band split,the back stage fight’s had taken there toll.Joey

didn’t know what he was going to do next.

But he knew that he was better then the the band

So he went solo lol.

Joey has had another taste of fortune and fame.

He has come to realise this is not a game.

Even if it was a game,this game has no rule’s.

So if you live a life with no rules,sometimes you pay a

price.

Is Joey willing to pay the price?

He might think this ride is for free,but you will pay.

joey’s first solo gig’s go really well,he play’s like a

trooper a super trouper.

He love’s the spotlight,being up front,the centre of

attention.

And also the girl’s did I forget to mention.

The groupie’s kept all of his need’s satisfied.

They were anomymous face’s,tit’s and arse’s are

all the same.

Joey was tired of the games and all the bullshit.

He just wanted to play and sing,he live’s for the music.

Joey’s next gig didn’t go as planned,he had had a few

many Bourbon’s and fell off the stage.

It is about time Joey stood up,and started to act his age.

But Joey didn’t listen,he was a goddamn rock star.

or so he thought.

There is a lesson here,and it has to be taught.

If you get to big for your boot’s someone will cut you

down to size.

As sure as egg’s and bacon,as sure as the sun rise.

Joey was young and naïve,still only18.

He has signed a contract that he shouldn’t have signed.

Mr Greed has taken him for a song and dance.

Joey played for peanut’s Mr Greed took the rest.

Joey has had another taste of fortune and fame.

Everybody knows his face,everybody knows his name.

Mr Greed the record company exec,want’s Joey to do a

national tour,to support his new single.

But Joey doesn’t want to tour,he want’s to stay at home.

Turn off the phone,and wait for the Mr Greed contract to

finally come to an end.

Mr Greed is talking about a lawsuit,so Joey goe’s out on the

tour,his heart isn’t in it,he doesn’t want to do this anymore.

Backstage after the gig he hook’s up with a shady character

who offer’s Joey a little something to take away all his ill’s.

Joey like’s the little something,and he want’s some more

It take’s away all the business stress and all the shit.

Joey is also happy,because his song has become a hit.

So joey’s tour is extended with more sold out show’s.

He goe’s from motel room to sound check,it is all go,go,go.

Joey and the shady character are the worst of enemie’s,the

best of friend’s,all at the same time.

The substance’s that he is taking,are starting to mess with his

mind

Joey has had another taste of fortune and fame

But this time the taste has turned sour

He cant stand the drudgery,hour after hour

Early the next morning,Joey decide’s to go for a walk,

He is tired of all the interview’s and the business talk.

But he is met by the paparazzi,who shove camera’s in

his face.

Asking him to smile for the camera,smile for the fan’s.

Joey used to like the attention,now it is something he

cant stand.

So he has to live his live hiding behind sunglasses,and a

funny looking hat.

But the show must go on,there is no stopping the machine.

Gig after gig it is all becoming,very draining.

Joey remember’s when he was sober,no drink,no drugs,nice

and clean.

He remember’s the sun,he hate’s it when it is raining.

The rain remind’s him of his life now,cold wet and miserable.

So Joey makes a decision,and he tell’s the driver of the tour

bus to stop.

Joey grab’s his guitar,get’s off the bus,and start’s to walk home.

Mr Greed has filed a lawsuit,but Joey couldn’t give a toss.

He is living his life,day by day,no drink,no drug’s.

Joey is now average Joe,living out in the suburb’s.

With an ordinary job,an ordinary wife,just an ordinary life.

Fortune and fame

Who need’s it.                          .

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The Grasshopper Who Rode A Chopper

17 Monday Nov 2014

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

baby sitter, critter, grasshopper, harley davidson

Out in your backyard lives a little critter

He lives with his family,and sometimes

he has a baby sitter.

He lives out his life hopping from leaf to leaf

like a little green chomping machine.

Hopping,chomping,hopping,chomping

The little green fella is bored.

All he ever does is eat leaf after leaf,blade

of grass after blade of grass

And every now and then he will stop and

drop a little poop,now there is a scoop.

His mother goes behind him,with a real

little pooper scooper.

Cleaning out their house and home.

They don’t have many possessions

Not even a mobile phone.

One day he is outside,doing his usual

routine.

Washing in a puddle,keeping himself

nice and clean.

Just then he hears the giant two legged

creatures who live next door in a giant

house.

There are no other animals around not

even a mouse.

A noise has driven all the animals to seek

shelter.

The giant two legged creatures,own a noisy

two wheeled machine,causing all sorts of

helter skelter.

Well the green little critter,has escaped his baby

sitter,he wants to go for a ride.

A ride on the machine that the two legged

creatures call a chopper.

Jesus H Christ what a freaking whopper.

Well the little green critter,who is called

Jimmy the grasshopper.

Wants to go for a ride on that freaking

chopper

He has noticed that the rider of the chopper

has a bubble like thing on his head,yknow

for protection.

Jimmy thinks that if things get too unsafe

he can do a quick ejection.

So Jimmy the grasshopper,goes to bed

early knowing that he has a big day ahead

But he cant get to sleep in his little green bed

He gets up early,he can hear the chopper a

roaring.

His heart is racing,his pulse is soaring

Jimmy the grasshopper races outside,he is

about to hitch a ride.

He climbs to the top of a blade of grass,and

waits for the chopper to pass.

He takes to the air with a wriggle of his little

arse.

He hopes his timing is right,and that he hasn’t

taken off too quick.

You can feel the tension in the air

It is enough to make you sick

But Jimmy the grasshoppers timing isjust right

As he lands on the pillion seat he hangs on tight

But is greeted by a sight that takes his breath away

He sight before him is a mighty big butt crack.

Jimmy the grasshopper knows that if he falls into

that crevice he will never be seen again

What a way to go,death in the crack from hell

So Jimmy hangs on tight and tries to divert his

eyes,not only from the crack,but from all the bugs

that are hitting him in the face.

A bug getting hit by a bug,how ironic.

Jimmy is starting to get a bit scared,it is getting

to be too much to bear.

He thinks he just dropped something in his

underwear.

Just then the chopper stops at a set of traffic

lights,Jimmy sees an opportunity to escape

this ride from hell.

Things didn’t turn out as Jimmy thought it would

The chopper was going much too fast

He wanted this ride to finish.

Jimmy knew that if he is to survive

he has to go back home and just be a

normal grasshopper.

A few weeks later Jimmy feels a few

things changing with his body,and he

knows what is about to happen.

He is no longer a grasshopper.

He has turned into a locust.

The weather is warm

Now is the time to swarm.

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Evil Incorporated

17 Friday Oct 2014

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

evil, gun for hire, jitman

I run a small business

A evil little business

My business is murder

I am a gun for hire

No job is to big or too small

What ever the problem is you

I can take care of it  all

So pick up the phone

And give me a call

I started this business about

twenty five years ago

I had a little problem,a problem

that needed to be fixed

That problem is no longer

around.

My problem disappeared

without a sound

Teach him for getting on my

bad side

You mess with evil,there is

nowhere to hide.

So I got to thinking

I know I am not the only

person with a problem

Other people out there have

problems

Problems that need to be

solved.

So I started leaving my business

card all around the city

On every corner of every street

let me get to the nitty gritty

If you find one of my cards

read the card it is not hard,then call

If I am not busy I will call back right

away.

So if you have the money,your

situation is about to be a situation

no more

So read the funeral notices in a few

days,and look for your problems name

You will see that Evil Incorporated,doesn’t

mess around and play games

So if you are happy with your problem

was solved.put out the word,and give

my company some well earned business

Cause taking care of business,is what

Evil Incorporated is all about

I am home cleaning my weapons

Sharpening all my knives

So find my card,it is not hard

Call my number,and I will do a

number.

I love to rub out freaking lives

Evil Incorporated

Our motto is death

So remember you could be next

Sweet dreams.

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Painkiller

15 Wednesday Oct 2014

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

alcohol, depression, pills, sorrow

As my tears dry they leave a stain

A stain on my feelings,a stain on my

pain.

As my tears no longer flow,they cant

wash away my sorrow

Cant wash away my empty tomorrows

I need a pain killer,bone chiller,

A heart stiller.

There is nothing to look forward to,all

my friends have moved away.

They have all moved on,they now live

on the sunny side of the street.

in a different state,a different country

moved from the cold into the heat.

I am tired of being lonely,living my life

by myself.

I am tired of being rejected,disrespected

Treated like a piece of dirt

I might not show it,but it hurts.

I need a pain killer,bone chiller,heart stiller

The pain leaves a stain,sometimes the stain

Is so bad it will never come out.

And sometimes the pain is so bad I want to

let it all out,scream and shout.

The cut runs deep,it cuts me to the core

I really cant stand it,I cant take it anymore.

I got myself a painkiller,a bone chiller,a

heart stiller.

A packet of pills,to cure all my ills.

Take one at a time,take the whole pack

Once you have taken the lot

there is no coming back

I don’t really want to end it all

Losing dignity,taking the final fall.

They say love conquers all.

What a crock of shit.

I have never known love,not even a

little bit.

Give me some painkiller,bone chiller

heart stiller.

Always getting kicked around,put down

I am on the ground,I cant get any lower

I can feel something different,my is getting

slower.

The stain is spreading,the pain is more

intense.

Put me out of my misery,don’t keep me

in suspence.

I have taken the painkiller,why am I still

breathing.?

I lay on the floor gasping,dry heaving

I wipe my mouth,realising I am still

alive.

Why? Just give me a needle,put me down

like a dog.

Give me a double dose,go the whole hog.

This so called painkiller isn’t really working

As painkillers go,this one really sucks.

It has no killer punch,no final solution

That is about right,just my freaking luck

I cant even kill myself properly,I am a

failure,i cant do anything right.

The pills didn’t work,but a hand gun might

I will go shopping tomorrow,buy myself a gun

Have a final beer,then have a little fun

When I get home,I am going to do it,with a

Little class.

I will pull the trigger.

Then disappear up my own arse.

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