“Wherewithin the stuff doth lie
Comes hither forth to thee and I.”
We know not what its meaning may be
But its important to someone with a PhD.
Category Archives: Poems
When The Light Goes Out Things Get Dark
There is one green light bulb
From an old Christmas tree
In the upper-left-hand plastic ring
Of the thingy that holds together
A six-pack of generic-brand cola,
Reclining in an Ohio landfill,
Never again to be lit
Or decorate a house
Or hold public office,
But the bulb is happy
Because it will outlast the family
Who chucked it in a hefty bag
And forgot all about it.
The bulb remembers.
The bulb is patient.
The bulb is all out of mercy…
Filed under Poems
Shucka-Shucka-Sucka! (Shucks?)
I once knew a Moroccan
Who thought that I was shockin’.
I gave him a shake
To see what sound he’d make
And he said “That’s a maraca, dumbass!”
Filed under Poems
I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For
I brought a dozen roses,
A diamond, and a kitten
To serenade by starlight
The lass with whom I’m smitten.
I sang “Every Breath You Take”
To my very special girl.
Then she locked me in her laser sights
And sang me “Goodbye Earl.”
Filed under Poems
Why Cops Love Summer
The twinkling stream
In sea-foam green
Was strolling o’er the rocks
And on the sand
A merry band
Were clothed in naught but socks.
They danced about,
Let it all hang out,
Just happy to be young,
Especially he,
Who’s six-foot-three
And very amply-hung.
Their harmless fun
Had hurt no one
But the cops lacked any pity:
“This here stream,
“Rural as it may seem,
“Is legally still the city.”
The cops gave out
With an air of clout
Citations to the nudists.
They seemed unstressed
As they got dressed
As if they all were buddhists.
Now clothed, the band
Heeded police demand.
It’s true! I checked on Snopes.
Unclothed, unarmed
They went home unharmed,
So black folks: there’s still hope!
Filed under Poems
Autumn in Detroit
Autumn in Detroit:
The trees are red each golden morning,
Crisp as dollar bills
That you stole from someone’s car.
Then comes Autumn’s rain
And the colors turn to gray December,
Dark and full of pain
Like that out-of-business bar.
The snow is heavy, cold
And almost covers the graffiti.
Unmelting, it turns gray
Like the prison window’s tint.
And as you bundle up
In your tick-infested cotton blanket
You smile and thank the Lord
That you do not live in Flint.
Filed under Poems
There’s A Guy Who Gets His Ass Kicked In A Dark Alley
Sometimes I lie away at night
Wondering which fancy jackass
Invented the word “pretentious.”
If our positions should coincide
In an unlit walkway between buildings
I’d like to thrust a limb pertaining to my lower body
To the rear-side of the juncture connecting his counterparts of the aforementioned lower-body elements
Purely for hedonic gratification.
Filed under Poems
Oops! I meant “Perfunctory.” Wait, No…
“Pusillanimous”
Was how I described my date.
I did not get laid.
Filed under Poems
Any Time An “…Uck” Word Falls Into The Rhyme Scheme
I wanted to play hockey
And be like a Canuck.
I settled for air hockey
But I didn’t have a puck.
A lot of you tuned out of the story
Because the last rhyme might be (from the record struck)
And for those of you who think that
Too bad! You’re out of luck.
(Hyuk, hyuk, hyuk)
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 