A Blaizing Starr

There once was a kind lady named Tish


She owned a radio station that played Bish,


It played Jon Bon Jovi and Aerosmith as well


All great music the went over with the listeners well,


But sometimes it would play some honky tonk too


Which this very generous and giving gal wished it wouldn't do,


For Country music was not her thing


And bad vibes out it could bring,


Sorta like a song called the gummi bears


And if you respected Ms. Tish you 


wouldn't play, no you wouldn't dare,


Fun was had every time one would come to work


If you couldn't make it she didn't make you feel like a jerk,


So everyone tried very hard to do the best they could 


For getting behind the microphone for this great lady was always good.

-  Patrick Lazie

His Real Intention

Before he graduated I wanted to do a show

How important it was he'd never know,

I wrote a story myself but it did lack

And would not be very good for playback,

So it was his story about war

But it doesn't look like we are doing it anymore,

Well you see he began to procrastinate

And when we tried it was too late,

Part of the reason was he became ill

So it wasn't all his fault if you will,

His name I need not mention

For it wasn't his real intention.

- Patrick Lazie

One Day 

One day a friend came to school

And was always treated cruel,

He never hand another good friend

Or knew someone with love to lend,

One friend found a kind someone

And his good life had soon begun,

This friend was soon proved wrong

For the key didn't work very long,

But the friend soon found another

And he inevitably became his brother,

This brotherhood came about gradually

And everyday he became closer to me,

Closer than anything before

And then found the key to every door,

And who is this guy you see

The only guy that's very close to me,

You might think he is my brother

But you're wrong it's another,

Talking in all truth and reality

The person in this poem is me.

- Patrick Lazie

Poetry Needs Me 


Some days I can survive on my own


Other times I need my poetry to have a place to call home,


For without my gift to write a poem or two 


I wouldn't know exactly what I should do,


Like a lawman from the old west who needed a gun and vest


Or a militant who is trained to fight to the death


They won't give up the fight until there last breath,


My pen is very lonely when it doesn't have me 


For it is missing out on the chance to produce poetry,


Like the ten most wanted fugutives 


If I am not writing a work of art my skill doesnt live,


The talent is locked up in the slammer


Can only get out if broken with a ball peen hammer,


I am not a very violent man you see


But life is not fun when I don't have poetry.







- Patrick Lazie

The Poet's World

The poet's world is all his own

With no one to disturb him he's all alone,

The poet writes for those who read

For they're the flower, he's the seed,

As long as it lives people with enjoy

So a long life it tries to employ,

And if it's not a success he shouldn't feel ashamed

For he should not just strive for fame.

- Patrick Lazie

A Painful Experience




Sometimes in life we must experience pain


But there is always a reason you see some kind of gain,


Whether it be so eventually we can feel better


If we have aged and started to look like and Irish Setter,


So we feel a face lift is the only thing we can do 


A method that is very tried and true,


Or if we have a horrible illness such as cancer


And must have a life saving procedure,


Perhaps, you may need to go to for a tummy tuck


If your husband or wife looks at you and says yuck,


But if your loved one really loves you 


The life-saving procedure is all they will ask you to do.


- Patrick Lazie