My Pookie's Such a Doll

Thanks for watching Pookie-poo

While I am overseas.

There won't be much for you to do

Since she is quite a breeze.

To go on walks, she needs a toy;

Her favorite one's the moose.

She may be small, but boy, O boy—

She's always breaking loose.

You'll mostly cook just tas kebab

With veal and served with rice.

She doesn't like the veal on top,

So mix it for her nice.

To help her sleep before you go,

You'll cuddle in her room.

You'll sing a song, but keep it low,

And let her be big spoon.

I think that's it. You have my cell.

If you're confused, just call.

I'm sure you won't, since you can tell

My Pookie's such a doll!

Port O'John

The ships arrive from far and wide;

Distress, dismay they don.

Unload. Unwind. The ships, with pride,

Set sail from Port O'John.

Slant Francisco

The pitch at which the city sits

Is such a source of pride;

If Slant Francisco can say it's hip,

Then damn it—so can I!

Work Week Woes

Office chair, O office chair,

You creak. You crack. You moan.

Office chair, O office chair,

In that, you're not alone.

West Wind

"I'll spray. I'll swat, I'll...strike 'em dead!

A fly's no match for me."

They'll zip and zap as if they've said,

"Alas, you've lost—not we."

Published →

Ice Cream's On Sale

The cartons—stacked. The prices prey:

"This sale cannot be missed!"

The car is packed. Surprised, I say,
"Was ice cream on the list?"

Waiter's Nightmare

I'll have the steak. No, burger—I lied.

And, uh, with the burger, what comes as a side?

I think I'll do taters, or wait—make it fries.

But steak looks so good...oh, I can't decide!

Forecast

Umbrella brought. A jacket packed.

The rain: nowhere in sight.

Umbrella sought. A jacket lacked.

The rain: no end in sight.

Lies

Oh, the woe—the agony—
A lie will put you through!
My friends will not stop asking me
For things I cannot do.

I lied: I make good mac and cheese
(Like this I'd have to prove),
So now they want the recipe
To see what they should use.

I lied: I bought an SUV
With tons o' cargo room,
So now they wonder when I'm free
To come and help them move.

I lied: I got a med degree
and now I'm really screwed!
My friend's in need of surgery
and saying no'd be rude.

Ode to Roadside Weeds

"A plant's a weed when in the way"
Our wicked world will often say.
You're plucked and pulled and pushed away.
Ode to roadside weeds.

But, to grow at asphalt's edge—
A miracle, O humble hedge!
This poem to you's my pers'nal pledge.
Ode to roadside weeds.

I'll sound the bell. I'll heed the call
To tell the world we've dropped the ball;
We've passed the fact you've grown at all.
Ode to roadside weeds.