Here is a sad tale that I'd like to share
about the time my sweet mom put a perm in her hair
that was so tight she resembled a fuzzy blonde bear.
No comb could run through it, which made her cry and swear
and sit slumped over sadly in her rocking chair
because looking in the mirror filled her with despair.
Wanting to help out, I searched the shopping square
hoping to find something that might help to repair
the frizzed out halo of tough, crinkled hair.
At the drugstore I examined the tools for tress care
and discovered some picks to soothe and groom afro hair.
There were plenty to choose from, but I wanted one with flair
and I found a black comb featuring a fist in the air,
which to my eight year old mind was a cool thing to wear
in thirty-six year old, suburban, white lady hair.
But my mom didn't agree and her eyes they did glare
as my dad laughed and laughed till he fell out of his chair.
"Really funny," she hissed, and stormed off to her lair.
Looking back, I think that was a bit unfair.
I wasn't trying to be a smart ass, at least not then and there,
but mom never did use the proud fist on her hair.
I guess the moral of this story is - choose your gifts with care.
Hope everyone has a happy Valentine's Day. I've been busy, but I plan to get back to blogging soon. I bought a sweet new digital camera so I'll be able to post pictures as soon as I figure it out. Don't expect me to post a bunch of pics of my boobs though, I send those straight over to the Rate My Rack website.
20 comments:
Hilarious!
What was that website address?? I have valuable insight I can give.
One of your best and funniest poems, Pru!!
(And I look forward to some Pru photography.)
Ha! I still use a pick for my hair, but it doesn't have the fist.
Once there was this hippy who spoke in a manner quite trippy. She thought her verse was the worst, but it was actually quite nifty.
I love this story. I can almost imagine the look on your mom's face!
Do you have a link for rate my rack?
The 80's were a horrible time.
No nostalgia should be allowed out of it except funny stories about perms gone bad and john hughes films.
Hope you have a great valentine's day.
I definitely followed that rhyme scheme.
Fight the Power!
I love the poem and the pick!
Such a bright girl ... happy V-Day!
Why is that tagged "bad poetry?" It should be tagged "friggin genius."
Happy V day, Pru.
(p.s. Maybe that pick is the origin of mom's jungle fever?)
You know, I live in a neighborhood whose denizens are rather hostile to whitey. While driving through the neighborhood--or, god forbid, walking through the neighborhood--I was often pelted with empty bottles of Colt 45 and told to "go back to Whiteyland." Once I was almost shanked but was able to hide in a tree until the coast was clear. Needless to say these dangers became quite tiresome. So, in order to blend in long enough to make it into my apartment without any trouble, I started wearing an afro pick. Now, no one notices me. In fact, I was once invited to throw rocks at the white mail truck with the locals, meaning my disguise was convincing enough to infiltrate their ranks without danger. It's worked like a charm so far.
Nice poem.
Wow that was the best poem I have ever read,
I wish I could write like that
but it fills me with dread
cuz I am a fraud, a talentless fuck,
If I wasn't so gorgeous, my life would suck.
hahaha...hahahahahaha...hahahahaha
luff you, happy v-day
God you're good! I could never write such a fantastic poem!
Man, you have to get a book of your poetry goin'.
So funny. I wanna meet your mom.
She totally should have used it. It could have helped to control the mop. Been there done that.
hey that rhymes. hair was in there five times. take pics of your crimes. good and bad times. and maybe your ass.
How has this week passed by so fast? Sorry, I have been off the Adderall for the past eight days - trying to get that monkey off my back. I want to answer every comment but I can barely get my teeth brushed. It's hell I tell you!
Very nice poem.
Your poor mother! How sweet of you to try to help her out like that!
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