Poems by Beedoo!

Caleveras County Court, Case #1845 in Session

It’s a hard day’s work, up at five a.m. and off at five p.m.,
and when I come home
to find no food on the table,
no trace of gratitude,
at best a muted hello, welcome home,
without even eye contact,
or that my money’s been spent—
like the day’s energy—
without my approval on things we don’t need,
can’t afford… microwave ovens
and Payless’ shoes … That’s
when I get pissed.
A woman like her
needs ta respect her man;
show some thanks, let him know
she’s appreciative.
Ain’t what I get, not so far as I can see.
When a man gets home and all he wants
is some hot food and a Bud Light
and all that’s around
is half a pan of
cold meat loaf—
and I hate meat loaf—and a glass of ice-water
that tastes like shit
(that ain’t her fault, yer honor… that’s
the county an’ that damn Maytag ‘fridgerator…)
he begins ta see that
there’s sumthin’ wrong here,
Ya getting’ me?
Somebody—and it ain’t himself, damn right—
needs ta be straightened out.

She don’t scream like she used ta.
Smack her around a little, that’s all.
Bitch like her needs ta be taught a lesson.
Makes her remember whose she’s really s’posed ta be.
No more damn meatloaf! No dirty laundry!
Quit throwin’ them col’cuts in the san’wiches
and I bet you’re foolin’ around with the postal service man,
Ain'tcha?
Damn right, that’ll teach ya.
‘Tain’t nuthin’ wrong with it.
Tough love’s all. You got ta learn ya
some respect.

She tries runnin’ sometimes. Never
gets too far. Goes
to her bridge-playin’ friends’ place or
tries stayin’ at Alice’s Truck Stop down the road a piece.
But someone’ll squeal eventchally
and then my ol’ buddy Bill
over at the Cal’veras PD’ll go an’
pick ‘er up,
bring ‘er back.
Sometimes he sticks ‘round ta make sure
I do her right.
There’s rules ta follow, don’tcha know.
I don’t do nuthin’ wrong, just gotta
thump ‘er now an’ then ta teach that woman
some manners.
God as my witness, yer honor.
Case dismissed.

B!'s Poetry---Main