Phi Poems

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Phi Poems

Here is some poetry that the Phi Class

would like to share.

To mullets and beyond...

The moon was wild last night,
The crickets chirped without sight,
yet my pants were off.
The wind was blowing in my mullet.
My Terry LaBonte T shist still on my back,
Only three cubes left of smack,
A tree cracked wide open,
Like the music store Virgin.
I heard a hiss coming from the wood,
Wondering if I ever did or ever could
Just stay home on Friday nights.
Blue lights shined over the hill,
My pants were suddenly back on.
The crickets drowned out by the sirens.
My hands almost up,
When the tree cracked again.
He was sideways now,
with a glock and a unibrow.
my mullet -- scarlet red,
My Mullet
Scarlet Red!
Like a cat locked in a shed,
My soul to heaven fled.
My Terry LaBonte shirt,
torn and shred

-with contributions from Anomaly, Spinach, and Recon

The Haircut Not taken (An expression to my mullet)

Two Haircuts are taken by those who visit barbers,

I was sorry that I could not have both hair-dos

And be one man. I examined

And looked at the benefits of one haircut longingly,

Realizing it more socially accepted.

I took the other haircut, even though

few above the Mason-Dixon dare to wear it.

I knew that if I ever came back to the barber,

I might tell this story with a sigh.

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

The mullet and the normal cut diverged

And I, I took the haircut less worn,

And my mullet has made all the difference.

-Spinach

All Phi Brothers are encouraged to submit poetry.

(prefered, but not limited to, poems about mullets)