Yes
I am a Bercu
A Bercu I am
I am the Man they call Bercu
A devilish dervish germ of a man.
I'll break through your castle walls
however I can.
Because I am a Bercu
and we Bercu's we can.
When my father Stan,
fell to the rabies
as one of his babies
I live on with his legacy
as Son Of Stan.
My father loved happy
and if you weren't happy
He'd run fast away from you
as far as he can.
Couldn't get my man striped feathers from father
Who was this odd creature who married my mother.
My dad,
a Bercu
named Stan.
Back in the old country
they drank, and they smoked
and made, their
sour mash
in the stable..
Busy beavers making hay
while they were able.
In the brutality of culture wars
In the teens, twenties and more
Grandma and Grandpa
raised up two Immigrant kids
named Stan
and Flo
With Americanized names
they'd feel more safe and secure
Both of them are lost to me now
in this brazen new world.
Stan is long dead
and my Auntie Flo
is demure
and on meds
to keep her mind fertile.
She'll be two hundred years old
in about a hundred odd years
Grandma must have given birth to a turtle.
Buddy Bee Anthony
All editing and publishing rights reserved as is by this author