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Poems On / About CHICAGO  9/17/2014 12:34:22 PM
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  205.     

Rocky Raccoon-ish

Now somewhere in the black mountain hills of chicago
There lived a young boy named rocky raccoon…….(The Beatles)


Road Kill was all I wanted to have my tantalizing taste buds taste,
Raccoon, all the raccoons seemed to die waste,
Along Farm Rd.275 North or I-75 or I-94 or Highway 11,
To the gamey diner raccoon is like chicken but more it’s heaven.
Alice’s brother said to me “Didn’t you eat ‘coon before? ”
I replied “They don’t prepare the ‘coon in Hamtramck.”
But in Michigan, downriver from Detroit, they serve muskrat.
Muskrats and raccoons they’re all road kill,
I thought about and stated we eat lobster, shrimp and crab.
Which are the cockroaches and spiders of sea,
So why not, have some road kill,
you may find out that is your cup of tea.
So is the Captain and Tennille going for this delicacy?

(1-21-2008)
 
Joe Rosochacki

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  206.     

Yep, You Told Me

A plane crashed
Between Chicago and LA
It's all my fault
I didn't do the pre-check
I'm a bit shook-up

Oh Bea
You tried to warn me
You said, 'Young man,
This plane has got to crash
It don't have no pilot
It's running out of gas'
I said, 'Bea,
You just don't see
I'm flying this plane
And the gas will last'
But the engines started to putter
My mind began to flutter
As I held onto the wheel
If it had to smash
I'll die with it
That's the only thing I could see
Then I said,
'Wait a minute
what am I doing
I have to jump'

You know Bea
I'm an injured man
But I'm a living man
That's the way it should be
But the wounds will heal
Again I'll feel
And I don't know
Guess I'll have to see
 
Roger Harkness

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  207.     

Aner Clute

Over and over they used to ask me,
While buying the wine or the beer,
In Peoria first, and later in Chicago,
Denver, Frisco, New York, wherever I lived,
How I happened to lead the life,
And what was the start of it.
Well, I told them a silk dress,
And a promise of marriage from a rich man --
(It was Lucius Atherton).
But that was not really it at all.
Suppose a boy steals an apple
From the tray at the grocery store,
And they all begin to call him a thief,
The editor, minister, judge, and all the people --
"A thief," "a thief," "a thief," wherever he goes.
And he can't get work, and he can't get bread
Without stealing it, why, the boy will steal.
It's the way the people regard the theft of the apple
That makes the boy what he is.
 
Edgar Lee Masters

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Read more: marriage poems, people poems, work poems, life poems
   
 

   
   
 

  208.     

A Poem For Myself

I was born in Mississippi;
I walked barefooted thru the mud.
Born black in Mississippi,
Walked barefooted thru the mud.
But, when I reached the age of twelve
I left that place for good.
My daddy chopped cotton
And he drank his liquor straight.
Said my daddy chopped cotton
And he drank his liquor straight.
When I left that Sunday morning
He was leaning on the barnyard gate.
Left my mama standing
With the sun shining in her eyes.
Left her standing in the yard
With the sun shining in her eyes.
And I headed North
As straight as the Wild Goose Flies,
I been to Detroit & Chicago
Been to New York city too.
I been to Detroit & Chicago
Been to New York city too.
Said I done strolled all those funky avenues
I'm still the same old black boy with the same old blues.
Going back to Mississippi
This time to stay for good
Going back to Mississippi
This time to stay for good-
Gonna be free in Mississippi
Or dead in the Mississippi mud.
 
Etheridge Knight

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