Plastic Patricia

Plastic Patricia




Dirty little lover
Looking to star on a magazine cover
She’s had it all done
Can’t tell the right from the left
Ohh absolutely perfect
How depressing
Smears her face in grease
Trying to get the photographers eye
But all his attention is on the odd little brunette
Sitting in the corner
No makeup and no fashion sense
No plastic in sight
Dirty little lover
Still trying to recover
From the latest lower lip perfection procedure
And not the ones on her face
She looks in the mirror
And can only see that thousand dollar hair
Against the odd little brunette’s five dollar chop
Dirty little lover
Spent to much time
Thinking about all the women in her daddy’s
Magazines

Third Finger, Left hand

Third Finger, Left hand




Wicked little girl
Cuttin’ out my heart
A little stone there, but nothing to brag about
She left me for dead
With my wretched little heart
That indention still around her finger
Where that metal band had wore
Wicked little girl
With a story for everything
A baby in her womb
Or maybe she is just bloated
With my wretched little soul
With a beast in her body
She screams
And slams her breath into my mind
Wicked little girl
And a freak in the night
A freak as the sunlight comes into her eyes
Wicked little girl

something for halloween

Straightjacket Scarlet




I am a carpenter on the cruel ship remorse
Pounding those nails into your dreams
Little bitch raised her hand
Asking me for a favor
I invited her out to the woods
Past the little café
Just this side of the border
Where I had scratched a shallow grave
and I could see the fright in her eyes
as I pulled that pistol from my pocket
and she started to whimper
as I took another slug from that whiskey bottle
and rambled on about life
and infidelity
and pulled that pine box I had made from
the shadows of the night
and I heard her draw a breath
as I drew the shovel from the interior
I slid that pine into the grave
And I whispered to her
That covering it would be but a few shovels

And I shot myself in the head

Room Service served until ten

Room Service served until ten




And I gaze into my hotel crystal ball
And ask for room service from the other side
And the ghost of an upper crust lady
Slides through my door
With tea service for all
She lingers and whispers into my ear
I’m the queen bitch come to take your soul
And it don’t matter which door you head for
You will come to me like a fireball

And then I wake with a start
as there is a knock on the door
with trepid hands I pull the door inches
and there she stands in a black evening gown
saying she has locked herself out
could she use my phone to call
the desk

and I gaze into my hotel crystal ball
and there it shows some old cracks on the wall
where I hid the body of that upper crust lady

blasting some words out there

Garden gate fold




You treat me like a backseat lover
That can’t do you no harm
So when you put me down
Then ask for a ride into town
Then you end up in the back of my car
At the drive in
With your jeans pulled all the way down
And I wonder what it is you are
Tryin’ to twist out of me
Then I pull up in front of you house
And you twist out of my arms
And rush to the door
Without a kiss tonight
And you treat me like a backseat lover
And there I am again driving down that farm road
With the fall leaves sticking to the wet asphalt
And feeling like some backseat lover
With a bad reputation
And just one to many friends

Dipping my pen in her ink

Dipping my pen in her ink




I’ve spent my life shackled to these words
That keep trying to rip their way out of my chest
And I keep telling myself that it isn’t personal
But for hours I lay there awake
With those damn memories swimming in my head
Trying to escape on some backstreet
That is free of all my sins and favors
I pull on a pair of dirty jeans
And slip out the back door of her room
Left her in that bed wet and exhausted
And I gave her another man’s name
When she asked who I was
Told her I was a superhero from small town Kansas
And there in the rain
With the pain from those words gone for a moment
As the rain washes that girls saliva from my face
Then as I round the block to the boulevard of my life
All of it comes creeping back in
And words about that girl I just left
Start forming into lines and sentences
And that girl that I just stole a bit of innocence from
Will just end up words on a page to everyone
Except me

Sunday Sunday Sunday

For a limited time my publisher is offering my books (well most all of their paperbacks actually) at a wonderful low sale price $6.99. So stop by their online store and just search for my name "Rik Woods" and snatch yourself up a copy. Unfortunately the hard covers are still regular price, but do buy one if you so desire.