Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

1
Gone with Somebody! 
Don’t Grieve gain control.
That why she is called, 
Miss Drum Role!
One Mother’s milk to die for?
I guess that’s why 
Chello sound like, 
When Baby shit diaper. 


Thrown out with the water easily Taken from wrapped tight by 
Pokes between ribs,
Past the white sheepskin.
Ironic the group loss
Felt after she blew
Our hole section
For the wind.


2
Gone with Somebody! 
Breathe and gain control.
That why she is called, 
Miss Drum Role.
Perfumes ornament
Her Ankles on floor. 
As her upper congas 
Rattle snake venom.


Plenty of Time To 
Play In that Three 
Quarter way Time
Stamps signature.
We all get it.
Who you beat to 
Until her pages get sticky,
Between the sheets.


3
Gone with Somebody! 
Breathe and gain control.
That why she is called, 
Miss Drum Role.
That’s what she 
Was here fa.
To fuck with, 
La orchestra!


Heated y’all up sharp then 
Left they flats cold.
Now Look how they talkin
Out their pie hole.
Tuba don’t got no goal;
Saxophone lose him soul,
And once Triumphant pipe 
Now sounds like puss-yhole.


4
Gone with Somebody! 
Breathe and gain control 
That why she is called, 
Miss Drum Role.
Ironic the Air we 
In can see that 
She got A Thing 
For the winde


But That’s what 
She was here fa.
To fuck with
La orchestra.
Im glad she gone, 
To get more  money.
Last I heard she 
Doing  the symphony.