Monday, February 24, 2014


expecting honesty 
from a politician
is right up there with
sharing a burger
with a bear
expecting the bear
to share equally
that burger

well, it's just plain stupid
sharing a burger
with a bear
when we can feed
the bear
a politician

so the bear gets a tummy ache,
so what?
so the bear gets the runs,
who cares?

politicians have the same effect
on we, the people!
but add a headache!

i see an audit in my future.....

spring will never look as good
as it will this spring.
providing winter gives up
by spring
and does not linger
well into summer
which would really be
a bummer

do rich people fart?

why does it always seem to be
blond women
that bite the hardest?

that know where to bite
to make it hurt the worst,
yet feel so good bitten
by a blond woman?

little kids playing by construction site!
a very active construction site!
where are their parents?
parents are sitting in parking lot,
not even watching their kids!

put some happy
in our underwear
and just go from there
and share
some happiness
down under there
whenever and anywhere
be fair
share your underwear

Poetry is when emotion has found thought
and the thought as found words.

Robert Frost

old man winter
that old man winder
keeps on snowing'
keeps on blowing'
that mean old winter
temps keep dropping
heat bills rising 
that old man winter
just won't leave us alone!

Thursday, February 20, 2014


its our want
overriding our need
as we speed headlong
into an abyss
of constant fear
and greed

even a brief visit to the past
creates great anxiety
as time passes fast
leaving behind
so much to chance

accepting what cannot be saved
from past
what future will not accept
as time passes on
towards a new conquest 

nothing is forever
except for taxes, of course
and that infernal death scene
that keeps us 
chasing our tails
running around in circles
looking for a way out

searching for 
an escape clause
separating us from those
with big noses
and a reason to live forever
keeping ourselves safe
from those big noses

everybody knows
the perfect nose
has only two holes
with enough room
for a third, and final, hole
should it be required
for blowing smoke rings
while hole number one
sniffs butt holes

all that wonderful dessert
all those sweet, sweet calories
turn myself loose
in that calorie infested display case
my veins collapsing 
under heavy load of cholesterol 
system under fire from sugar
once started, 
could i possibly stop?
oh, those sweet, sweet, sweet calories
'til death do us part!
and probably will!

what need said
the  saying of it
and saying what said
facing justice
red faced friends
only words, then
saying words, friend

and now bats
a big leap, I know
from words to bats
but bats
where bats fly, they fly
how wonderful, then
the bats fly, fly
nightly excursions 
flight patterns, not be denied 

now, done with bats,
all that remains
just to say good-bye
watching those bats fly.
so, good-bye

Poetry is life distilled. 

Gwendolyn Brooks

Saturday, February 15, 2014


yes, when we are young
pride enslaves us
blinds us to truth
what freedom really means

and when we're older
always something in our past
eventually comes back
and bites us on the ass
reminding us
of our wasted youth

politics may very well
be the death of us
in end of all things
right or wrong
left or right

we have become slaves
to rituals of our youth
as our brain-washing
dictates our future
win or loose 

yippee-kiyay, yippee-kiyay
been that kinda day
yippee-kiyay, yippee-kiyay
splendid kinda day

yippee-ki....ya, ya, ya!
enough, already!
go take a nap boy!
sleep if off!

the strip tease
ya, okay
what's a guy gonna say?
except, maybe
more, more, more!
so, ya, a guy.
but, for me,
they put it on, put it on!
should be laws,
equalization laws,
all guys built the same!
but, no!!
damn it, not even close!
some guys
they do have brains!

the pink room,or
some will call it
the crazy room.
or grunt/groan room.

but only a buffoon
should have enough room
thinking maybe
this poem over soon

but no, not soon
at least not soon enough
for sin to notice
love has left the building
chasing Elvis's ghost

Perhaps no person can be a poet,
or can even enjoy poetry,
without a certain unsoundness of mind. 

Thomas Babington Macaulay 

Monday, February 10, 2014


photo from "Source of Inspiration" on Wordpress

holy crap! these ain't shoes! these are weapons!
if i saw these shoes coming my way,
i'd run real fast the other way!

heaven help us, boys!
what's this world coming too?
them women got us singing the blues!

Sunday, February 9, 2014


just stuff it, stuff it then.
should mood suit,
go ahead, stuff it again.
and again.

should need arise,
but be not surprised 
should stuffing
get you arrested

and the test?
always a frickin' test!

i hate you
i can't stand you
but i love you
so come over here
so i can kiss you
before i shoot you
because i hate you
can't live without you
and I'll love you forever
and I'm through with you
and I'll screw you
just to prove
my love for you is true

since doughnuts know my name
and pester me mercilessly
i shall accept no blame
for my obesity

doughnuts, please release me
my name should not appear
in an obituary 
before time is through with me

with so many doughnuts
for me to choose
giving this old fat boy the blues
do doughnuts love you, too?

we should write like
we don't care
what other people think
about our writing.

that way, whatever we write
might actually 
be worth reading.

running out of luck
running out of time
running out of reason
making life rhyme 

she didn't believe me
when i lied and cried
next time i lie
i won't bother to cry

I'll save the crying
for the beating I'll get
when i lie