Poem: Ode to the word Fuck

I actually wrote this in the Fall of 2007.  The idea came to me the night Evel Knievel died, which was November 30, 2007.  I had just given up driving a taxi, and was fully homeless for the first time in about 5 years.  I was doing my laundry on a rainy night in Garden Grove of Cypress or somewhere in that area, I saw a laundromat from the bus stop.  There was a TV on at the laundromat, and that's where I heard Evel died.  

The truck splash thing actually did happen, but not quite as dramatic as I describe it in the poem.  I wrote most of the first half of the poem while doing my laundry that night, and the rest the next night.  I later memorized it, and actually worked it out to do it as a comedy bit.  I've performed it for a handful of people over the years, and can still do it live.  I performed it on video for a one hour comedy video I wrote, shot, and produced while homeless 2007-08.  I did the whole video, segment by segment, in order, one take each, on my Sony Digital8 video camera.  I lost the camera in a pawn shop, and all my video footage, including that homeless comedy master tape, when I moved to North Carolina in November 2008.  I'll have to re-record it one of these days...  

 Fuck

 I was homeless,

I was broke,

I was down  on my luck.

My future seemed hopeless,

so I just said the word, fuuuuuuuuuuck!

I hung my head low, 

at that bus stop in the rain,

when I heard a great sound,

like and oncoming train.

I snapped my head up,

And I said, "What the fuck?"

Into the puddle before me...

drove a big truck.

The splashing wave was a revelation.

For I realized me luck,

I was born on the planet,

That invented the word "fuck."

I wasn't born on fucking Mercury,

Fucking Venus, or Fucking Mars,

I was born here on Earth,

Where we drive big fucking cars.

I wasn't born on fucking Jupiter,

Fucking Saturn, or fucking Neptune.

I was born here on Earth, 

where the lovers like to fucking spoon.

Now I realize my profanity

Will provoke some complainers.

Hey, if you don't like this fucking planet,

try fucking Uranus.

And I won't leave out fucking Pluto,

our littlest planet, now demoted.

For if it had lots of gas,

Like Jupiter... or my grandpa...

It'd be big, and fucking bloated.

The night suddenly felt glorious,

though still wet from the truck.

And I started to ponder 

all the uses of the word "Fuck."

To my backstabbing boss, 

Who never says a word true, 

I life high my middle finger, 

and say, 'Hey, fuck you!"  

And about 3 am

I stumble with glee, 

up to some chick at the bar, 

and say, "Hey, fuck me."  

And if I should do 

Shakespeare on stage,

and my lines suddenly fail me, 

I will simply say "fuck,"

Though the critics will assail me.

And if a man beds a young woman, 

and then her mother, a trucker, 

he earns the dubious distinction

of being a true motherfucker.

Yes... four innocent little letters,

Together, often banned.

Yet the word is so useful, 

so much in demand.

Why is it that

This word's so maligned?

Why some times the word "fuck"

seems almost divine.

You take a hit of a joint, "fuuuuck."

You step in dog crap, "fuck!"

You swerve to miss a car that almost hits you, "FUCK!"

So in times of anger, 

of excitement or fear, 

just take heart and know,

This little word is near.

And of all of the cosmos,

And all the planets that suck, 

you were lucky enough

to be born on the planet, 

That invented the word, "Fuck."

-The White Bear