Needlessly Rude

Song by Pachamamacitas
Produced by LongLiveLunacy

A

You are pretty rude to me

     D7

but not as rude as you could be

       A                     E A E7

You treat me like somebody who likes me

Boy don’t you make no mistake

Cause I’m not looking for a date

You been acting like a fool

                       A7

needlessly rude.

D7

Why you gotta play me

A A7

so hard?

D7

Take off your shades,

A A7

Put down your cards

D7

I no longer play this game

A                                          E

now that I got my new last name.

A

You speak to me like honey flows

     D7

Sweet and stuck and oh so slow

       A                     E A E7

You keep me on the ledge of your window Boy don’t you make no mistake

cause my heart isn’t yours to break

You been acting like a fool

Needlessly rude.

D7

Why you gotta play me

A A7

so hard?

D7

Take off your shades,

A A7

Put down your cards

D7

Can’t you see we’re only friends

A                                          E

when this ends, everybody wins.

A

So why you put me down like that?

     D7

Like the roof of a cadillac

       A                     E A E7

You leave me out like someone who is into me


Boy don’t you make no mistake

and I don’t mean to belly ache

You been acting like a fool

                A… .A7

needlessly rude.

D7.   E

HM I’ve got news for you

A.    A7

you being real rude

D7. E

You’re a calculating dude

A.                                    E A

who’s needlessly rude.

On Reading (Sonnet)

There is a point when writing’s not enough.
When quippy verses fade into a stew
of diaries relating daily triumphs,
nuisances, and other such banalities.
But wherefore would I take the time to read
those drippy ruminations of another
listless poet, deep in their own misgivings
and tired projections of losses and finalities?
Unless, of course, they’re written with precision,
and every word falls neatly into meter,
and every step of further exploration,
delights even the driest personalities.
These, I’d read a thousand times or more,
for a chance of something I didn’t catch before.

Poems like Puberty

(a crude attempt at a follow-up to “Poems like Pixels”)

Poems, like puberty
present themselves when you’re least prepared,
no pen in your hand, no pad in your ‘wear,
and the rush to acquire
such necessary items
leads only to leakage, to the loss of what’s there.

And who but a pubert or poet would care
if the sun showered sparkles all over his hair,
and his green glowing eyes shone like raindrops
under a faltering streetlamp?

It’s not as if poetry can’t be progressive,
won’t ripen with age,
or would be less expressive
if none of us ever had zits on our noses,
stuffed socks in our bras or chugged vodka in closets…

but still in a way they are peas in a pod,
feelings we store in the depths of our souls
and stories we sorta wish never were told,
emerge now to plant themselves onto our faces,
for all to observe,
whether we like it or not.

Poems like Pixels

Poems, like pixels,
all spread out and presenting a picture
despite their partial, and perhaps complete, irrelevance.

To be fixated on a particular pixel
is to be missing the picture,
mistaking a brick for the castle…
Though put together with precision and care,
it by itself is not all that is there
nor was ever intended to be a reflection
of anything particular in its full capacity.

Just a block of approximately one solid color,
shining bright,
bold,
and surrounded by others,
the colors of which make practically all of the difference.

Wands

Prickly branches, stickily soaked in sap
and little leaves; sticking out like sticks
that stick out from the ground. And such a stick
is nothing but a stick, unless beheld
by brainy and/or brawny men, in which case
not beheld as in the sense as been
bespoke before; but as in that of
banderoles and birch batons, borne
with brazen animosity in bloom;
and no concern
for branches plucked and pruned.