Category Archives: Poems

The Mail Perspective

Few things are better
Than getting a letter
The good old fashioned way.
That envelope’s feel
Just fills me with zeal
And I start to dance and sway.

‘Tis a unique caper,
The feel of the paper
And ink beneath my fingers
And when the mail is gone,
My heart will go on.
My jollity forever lingers.

So when I opened your note
In which you wrote
That my electricity bill wasn’t paid
I did not understand,
For I felt very grand.
My life felt like I had it made!

Now reading my crap
From Kohl’s and the Gap
In the candlelight out on the street
I realize life,
Past the bills and the strife,
Can turn out pretty darn neat.

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National Defense

“Protect and serve the innocent”
Was what the poster said,
And it’s what I thought I’d do
When I became a fed.
I got to work the first day
In my black, designer suit.
I said “I’m here to serve and protect.”
My boss just said “That’s cute.”

He showed me to my office
In the middle of the floor
Where two monitors awaited
And I knew what was in store.
I became well acquainted
With a Mrs. Sally Strom
And the doodads that she purchased
On Amazon.com

They say your moral compass
Will sway from truth and light
Through prolonged exposure
To things that aren’t right,
But I have to disagree
With the ever-present “they”
Because tons of people do this
And it doesn’t wreck their day.

Protect and serve the innocent:
It sure sounds nice to me
And makes me feel righteous
About the innocent stuff I see.

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Plenty of Wants

Plenty of fish
Want to live on land,
To lie in the sun
And play in the sand.

Plenty of birds
Want to live in the sea,
To eat what they want,
To swim and be free.

Plenty of men
Want to live in the sky,
To grow ever higher,
Never to die.

But all of these beings
Both near and afar
Can be equally happy
Finding peace where they are.

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Beauty Still Sleeps

My horse and I have traveled
Over miles of mountain and glen
Slaying dragons, wooing ladies,
And then doing it all again.

We fought our way to this castle
Surrounded by magical thorns.
With my sword, I carved my way through them
With my backup chorus of horns.

I bathed in the courtyard fountain,
Doffed my armor and donned my suit,
Made by the finest craftsmen in the kingdom
And tailored to flatter my patoot.

And I climbed up ten thousands flights
Of ruined and slippery stairs,
Not breaking a sweat or a nail
(And bravely fought off several bears).

Now I gaze on my love’s sleeping visage
And my heart gives a coo like a dove
As my lips caress hers. Still she slumbers.
Hey, what’s this clause on the wall ’bout true love?

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Semi Precious

The color gold is very bold,
Yet platinum’s even bolder.
An emerald’s shine is quite divine
And a ruby’s glow does smolder.

Pearls are smooth and friendly
And shall stand the test of time,
And silver would be more popular
If the poor thing had a rhyme.

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Somewhere Near Mulberry

I was driving to meet Lady Mulberry
When I heard great caterwauling.
A melee of a feral type
Had broken out. Appalling!

As I drew closer I clearly saw
That an ape and weasel sparred.
The weasel adroitly popped the ape
Who slunk away, badly scarred.

I realized I’d witnessed
A nasty, brutish crime
(Though around the bush in Mulberry
It happens all the time).

So I called the cops on weasel pops
An ambulance for the chimp
Who got in the bus without a fuss
But a very noticeable limp.

Then I left the bush district
Past other rodents and macaques
Until I reached my Lady’s venue,
A restaurant called Jack in the Box.

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Samson and Dalila

Samson’s hairs were much like twines
As the strong man fought the Philistines.
His dreads inspired lots of fear
(From the smell, just to be clear).

Then he met a Philly girl
Whose hair, like his, was fun to twirl.
They went to Alaska to be married,
A long walk yes, but they never tarried.

As they were wed ‘neath the lights boreal
Dalila was plotting with L’oreal
For if Samson was “worth it,” so might it be
That the war could end sweet and silkily.

And at the igloo’s honeymoon suite
Samson had begun to eat
While Dalila washed his long dark hair,
Both wife and husband unaware
That instead of fancy shampoo, there
Was a mislabeled bottle containing Nair.

With Samson bald, Dalila wept
As from the icy floor she swept
The locks which brought both strength and love
Which had been granted from above.

And so Samson fell from grace,
His head now bald, but not his face.
Dalila wanted to comfort him so,
And said “darling, I think the beard should go.”

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This Always Happens…

My charger is broken,
My battery’s low,
So here is a poem.
Now I’ve got to go.

(One stanza’s too little,
So I wrote this postscript,
Risking my battery
So you don’t feel gypped).

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If I were better

If I were better looking
I might’ve turned out vainer,
And fighting off all my admirers
Could be an energy drainer.

If I were affluenter
I’d have a doctorate degree
And I’d spend all of our evenings
Psychoanalyzing me.

If I were much more charming
I’d deserve a laurel wreath
And I could blind you accidentally
With the gleaming of my teeth.

If I were any better
I would surely be much worse
So quit whining and accept me
And stop being so darn terse.

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Born This Way

You’ve probably seen a zebra,
That pretty, stripy horse,
And you probably know a pinto
And a black stallion of course.

And lots of horses have little marks
That make them look real rad,
But no one loves me, for I’m a horse
Who was born in neon plaid.

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