Drunk on Friday Night _ new poetry November 2025

Drunk on Friday Night 

Now I got off work 

About 5:05 

Was feeling lucky 

Making it out alive 

No time for passenger side 

Jumped in my pick up truck 

Thank God it wasn't stuck 

And aways away down town

Saw old LeeroyBrown 

He said he was bad all right 

Well there's no need to fight 

Fixin' to blur my eye sight 

Hey let's go get drunk 

Leeroy laid tools in his trunk 

Cranked up some 70's punk 

Hey hey 

Hey hey 

Yeah yeah 

Okay 

Drunk on Friday night 

This ain't no competition 

It's all about repetition 

Bartender a frosted mug

Red wine from a jug 

One after another we chug 

A waitress with her huge hug 

Leeroy Brown he feel in love 

A praying mantis isn't a bug 

He's more like a violin monk 

It's Friday night and he's drunk 

Playing games of Kerplunk 

With marbles and sticks 

He takes it out quick 

Hey who's that chick 

My ear she just flicked 

Wow she's out of sight

Wishing with all my might 

Drunk on Friday night 

Hey hey 

Hey hey 

Yeah yeah 

Okay 

Having so much fun 

Downing one by one 

She twisted his tongue

The master auctioneer 

Made him sound queer

Flirting with a lawn deer

Oh my goodness dear 

He claims he's John Deer

And he's worth a fortune 

Telling everyone in the room

He was on mushrooms

Doing Karaoke into a broom 

We'll be there again real soon 

Drunk on Friday night 

November 15, 2025

John Alan Conte' Jr.

MyStrawHat.com 

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone

Epiphany _ New Poetry November 2025

Epiphany 

There's that moment 

Of clarity 

When light hits 

The knotty pine 

And polished mahogany 

Brush strokes revealing 

Such beauty 

Where you were 

A manatees 

Trapped in fishing net 

Now you're released 

You're free 

With divine intervention 

Old friends / confidants 

Bob Dylan's Tarantula 

Prayer. Meditation.

Love.

November 12, 2025

John Alan Conte' Jr.

MyStrawHat.com 

🙏🌹💜💜🌹🙏

Epiphany 

There's that moment 

Of clarity 

When light hits 

The knotty pine 

And polished mahogany 

Brush strokes revealing 

Such beauty 

Where you were 

A manatees 

Trapped in fishing net 

Now you're released 

You're free 

With divine intervention 

Old friends / confidants 

Bob Dylan's Tarantula 

Prayer. Meditation.

Love.

November 12, 2025

John Alan Conte' Jr.

MyStrawHat.com 

🙏🌹💜💜🌹🙏

#new #november #poetry #light #love #joy #epiphany 

——

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone

Next Easter USA 🇺🇸 _ New Poetry 2025

Next Easter USA 🇺🇸 

Main sent to play 

It sounded okay 

But boss she said I lost 

Because the muffled moss 

And when I said that was the cost 

She said he boss had me on the cross

And his Scottish schoolyard schedule 

Yeah his red republican petty rules 

It seemed to come all so untrue 

But it just proves to mean how 

The sales tires sales man and auto 

Gas the smells likes gasoline ⛽️ 

When she was the high school queen

Elizabeth Taylor and Giant Jimmy Dean 

So you're gonna fire me 

You wanna fire me so bad 

You wanna fire me 

You always had 

With a wonder bread bag 

You wanted to brag 

Go on… take a drag 

How do you care for me 

With a sarcastic Christian Tree

Screaming Crucify Me  

See you next Easter 

So sad

You pretended to care for me 

November 14, 2025

John Alan Conte' Jr.

November 14, 2025 

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone

Christmas Everyday Is Thanksgiving _ new poetry November 2025

Christmas Everyday Is Thanksgiving 🙏🌹💜💜🌹🙏 

Was it the wind    

Why I turned off SportsCenter 

Carrying my mother's voice?

Or cats under the stars?

At four o'clock in the morning 

Wide awake either way 

It's not like I have a choice 

When the joints glow as burning coals

But to think of you 

So tangled up in blue

My work got me these wind chimes 

As I was grateful feeling dead 

Listening to past from time to time 

I can taste too much oak in my wine 

A portal in Pennsylvania's Pittsburgh 

Hearing the town talk we laugh 

Her pill box hat has been stored for her 

Like a World Series game seven home run 

Inside a park like, museum like, library house 

Black & white pictures now colored in 

And old friends like Mrs. Edie Clouse 

With John Lennon's fame and Ringo's plane 

The calling cards, taverns and friendly bars 

We knew it was the meaning of the Star 

Guiding all the Billy Goats and Billy Strings 

The way he sings with his rosewood guitar 

Christmas everyday is Thanksgiving 

Written By: John Alan Conte' Jr.

November 8, 2025 4am 

MyStrawHat.com 

Written By: John Alan Conte' Jr.

November 8, 2025 4am 

#christmas #everyday #is #thanksgiving #four #amwriting #in #the #morning #BillyStrings #blue #grass #weekend #pittsburgh #pennsylvania #november #poetry #ChristmasEverydayIsThanksgiving

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone

Orange Youth _ new writing _ poetry _ November 2025

Orange Youth 

Talking to their phones like lovers instead of on them asked to draw a picture of a telephone stand they draw a one legged man with a smart phone in hand wishing they had something to eat instead of grandma’s pantyhose and wish they had a mansion but live in rented drywall boxes with a book on Hitler as a pillow and dead puppies for blankets shot by insane fame seeking politicians who pay orange mouthpieces to unleash the dogma of hopes for a day everybody looks exactly the same and speaks from one single tongue even though they have no money because they give everything to orange grove owners who sell them off to feed wars on newspapers and neighborhoods they need for golden toilets and bronze statues of Caiphas and Pilate while waving gold plated crucifixes and autographed upside down bibles used in the last photographed opportunity for hate nevertheless maggots recreate to turn into flies with green spineless bodies that eat feces dropped from an artificial intelligence in the back of an alley where close hangers are bloodied from the babies the orange youth cannot afford to feed or care for and again their tax dollars have been swallowed by a king who can’t abrogate his ego for the good of the people and a lasting world peace so as long as his mind keeps reminding him he’s going to be forgotten after he’s the laughingstock of a flock of Shepherds making pies from the words of poet Robert Burns alongside the smoke stacks of Andrew Carnegie our president sold to a foreign nation where he buys all of his garments to assemble a grand vision of orange youth carrying out his commands as God lights another bush on fire to shed light on the darkness of the days of no shame for being as greedy as a snake who eats its own tail left only wanting more until we close the door and move on to a higher level of care for babies so parents can continue their education from the ashes of burnt books 

November 6, 2025

MyStrawHat.com 

John Alan Conte’ Jr.

Railroad Horns & Old Neighborhoods _ New Poetry November 4, 2025

Railroad Horns & Old Neighborhoods 

Thinking of the past 

When bunches of friends 

Were clusters of stars ✨ 

Burning 🔥 day and night 

In coffee ☕️ houses and cafes 

Old houses 🏘️ and studios 

Rehearsal spaces and stages 

Shows and crowds smoking 

Looking back I was a hack 

An idea 💡 man with a hook 

With my groove in the heart 💜 

I was genuinely authentic 

And that might be a song 🎧 

Trains from ConRail Yards into 

NYC, Detroit and Chicago roll

2:44 a.m. hearing their horns 

That's my song 🎶 for you 

Railroad Horns & Old Neighborhoods 

John Alan Conte' Jr.

4 a.m. November 4, 2025 

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone