My Friends Are Crusty

I wrote this poem way back in 2010. So I was sitting around the house one day, not really doing much, when all of a sudden I thought, "My friends are crusty."

I have no idea where the thought came from, but I wrote it down because I just KNEW I could make good use of it one day. Once I finished the poem, I went looking for the perfect photo to go with it.

And here it is:

My Friends Are Crusty

My friends are crusty, hardheaded and proud.
They wear leather jackets and ride really loud
motorcycles, but sometimes they thumb for a ride.
My friends, they take it in stride.

My friends wear moustaches, beards and goatees.
They have more tattoos than you ever did see
but you won’t, ‘cause they share them with only their crew.
My friends, they know what to do.

My friends don’t care if you like them or not.
They do what they want and they don’t give a snot
what you think, so it’s best if you don’t criticize.
My friends could lick out your eyes.

So if you want my friends to be your friends, too,
you should be respectful, kindhearted and then you
could pay for the kibble, next time they’re in town.
That’s what keeps my friends around.



Photo courtesy of Istolethetv on Flickr