Two months before Julius Caesar fell
Another death occurred.
The victim was Humberto Caesar,
The emperor’s pet bird.
Well Humberto was as loyal as
A domesticated bird could be,
But power comes along with a price:
Humberto had enemies.
Most prominent was Clint,
Brutus’s pet cat.
‘Twas a miserable furball of betrayal,
But every cat’s like that.
Well I don’t need to tell you
How Humberto was killed by Clint,
But being the Ides of January
Julius should have gotten the hint.
Give pause for a moment,
Stop your mind,
And take a moment to rewind.
Remember all the menu dated,
And that play you really hated.
Enter your own quiet place,
With volume down and quiet bass.
Make a resolution
To replay your past,
‘Cause this life goes forward fast.
Filed under Poems
I manage some apartments
And I like to play some cards,
But this week I became batman.
It wasn’t all that hard.
I started by evicting the tenant
In apartment twenty two, man.
She moved away with her twenty cats.
I’d kicked out the Cat Woman.
That very night some friends of mine
Came over to play some poker.
We had a deck of fifty three cards,
So I took out the joker.
What villain will I conquer next
At my apartment in central Maine?
We’ll see, but first I’ll shop a bit
Online at, yes… E-bayne.
Filed under Poems
No matter how lonely you are
Never move in with a grizzly bear.
It will most assuredly wreck your car
And your shower will be full of hair.
A smart alternative to that
Is to invite small things to your home.
Ever considered getting a cat?
How about a ceramic gnome?
And one thing everyone should get
According to my own surmisements
Is access to poems on the internet.
How’s that for shameless advertisements?
Filed under Poems
‘Twas a year before numbers
When I sailed the sea
Where I met my first siren,
And my Demise met me.
I was taking first watch
Near the time of four fourty
When she called out my name.
She called “come to me, Morty.”
Her high, lilting song
With my heartstrings was toying.
She lured me to danger.
(It was very annoying).
But I leaped off the deck
Not thinking too clearly
And I swam towards the voice,
Which was starting to cheer me,
And I reached her lagoon
At four forty five
Shocked, but ecstatic
To still be alive.
And that’s when I saw
The voice’s physical guise.
I asked “What is your name?”
And the voice said, “Demise.”
I’ve been in that cave
Since numbers were made,
And Demise and myself
Both faithful have stayed,
But if you see my ship,
“The Ocean’s Slumbers,”
Please tell the I’m happy,
And teach them about numbers.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
I judged a book by its cover
And was killed the very next day.
Death was fairly uneventful,
But in a painful, death sort of way.
Luckily I am a zombie,
And can keep carrying on with my life.
That means I can keep writing poems,
But my rhyming might get a bit brains.
Filed under Poems
Green escalators don’t exist,
And I think that’s a pity.
Playing cards are red and black,
But wouldn’t blue be pretty?
Sunsets can be orange or pink
But never violet hued,
And I’ve never seen a face so red
As when you saw me nude.
I’ve heard you pose the question
More often than you should,
About the amount of wood I would chuck
Were I able to chuck wood.
First, I can chuck wood.
Let’s just put that out there.
But this woodchuck doesn’t chuck much wood,
‘Cause this woodchuck doesn’t care.
After all, you can chuck wood too.
How often do you do that?
It’s a highly overrated job
For which I am too fat.
So here’s your stupid answer
From the mouth of this woodchuck.
I do chuck wood, but not as much as I should,
Cause the woodchuck doesn’t give a
Hey look, an acorn!
Filed under Poems
Why is my bed so warm
And the world so cold?
When my dreams are so young,
How does life get so old?
Why do we hide from the rain,
When the sun does the burning?
Is it money or love
That keeps the world turning?
I realize now
That this poem repeats
Yesterday’s theme
Only with different beats,
And maybe I’d change it,
But I don’t see the harm
When the world is so cold
And my bed is so warm.
If the sun makes people smile true,
Why does it make the sky so blue?
Why is notebook paper just-so lined?
By whom was that line size defined?
How much does a scale weigh?
What is it the fox does say?
Why start with qwertyuiop?
Why not put abc on top?
These things we will never know.
‘Scuse me, now I’ve got to go.
Filed under Poems
