Category Archives: Poems

How to be a Great Lover

Most men want a woman,

and women want a man.

It seems like love should be easy,

and with my new method, it can!

 

My method’s known as L.A.M.E.

and it’s an acronym

For a method that works for her

and works even better for him!

 

“L” stands for lower standards,

and that’s some good advice.

For instance, you meet a friendly man

and he likes you, but has lice.

 

Lower down your standards

and I’m sure that you’ll say

“I don’t mind that you’re icky, dear,”

and now we move on to “A.”

 

“A” stands for altercations,

and it’s best if you have many.

Celebrities fight. They fight a lot,

and they make a pretty penny.

 

So next time your lover insults you

and you feel you want to argue

Fight it out in a public place

and Hollywood will write a show for you!

 

“M” stands for me, myself, and I

and I think it’s plain to see

That you’re the most improtant part of a relationship

and that’s a good place to be.

 

So when your lover says to you

“and you never think of me,”

You’ll answer that you think of yourself

and that’s the way it should be.

 

 

“E” stands for exit plan,

and it’s probably obvious

That if you follow the instructions

and you come to “wedded bliss”

 

You’re going to need an exit plan

and you’ll already be prepared.

So try it on your loved one now,

and try not to be scared.

 

Say “Honey, you are ugly

and I really couldn’t care less.”

Then fight it out in a public place

and televise your stress!

 

Remember, love is selfish

and think of “me,” good man.

Then run to love another day,

and use your exit plan.

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Dedicated to William Carlos Williams

Flash!

There is a sparrow in a tree.

It croons, and calls out.

It’s just like that.

Flash!

Now the bird is dead.

It flew into a window.

Other avians will do the same.

 

Flash, and there is ice cream, melting over the bird,

Its speckled corpse is sticky and happy as the sweet confection

Of humanity

Perjures itself upon the hollow-boned beauty.

Then it is gone, eaten by a raccoon.

The white chickens gather around.

It is important.

 

In other words…

 

so much depends

upon

a dead meal

sparrow

glazed with

ice cream

beside the white

chickens.

 

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Cactus Guy

Far off in the Sahara

There’s a very powerful man.

He lives among the cacti

And he’s got a snazzy tan.

He wears a cape around his neck

And fights for justice high.

He’s a friendly superhero,

And he’s known as cactus guy!

 

Cactus Guy!

He makes bad guys feel sickly.

Cactus Guy!

Though his manner is quite prickly.

Cactus Guy!

He can exercise his joints!

And when he speaks in public,

He brings up many, many good points.

 

He fights off guys like “Sandman”

Without blinking an eye.

He beats off crooks like “Scorpion”

‘Cause he is Cactus Guy!

He could take on the Joker

Or the Riddler in his sleep.

He helps the poor and innocent,

‘Cause he is not a creep.

 

Cactus Guy!

He drives a Prius, ’cause he’s green!

Cactus Guy!

His favorite actor’s Charlie Sheen!

Cactus Guy!

Now it’s time for him to leave,

But if you need to contact him

His roommate’s name is Steve!

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Ambrosia and Nancy

I went out to a party

Last Sunday, on my trip.

While there, I saw a woman,

And my heart, it did a flip.

 

She looked so darn fancy,

In her heels and her pearls.

Her eyes were bright as starlight,

Her hair fell down in curls.

 

She smiled at me last Sunday,

From way across the room.

I had to go and meet her.

My passion was in bloom.

 

“Hello David,” she said

As flashed a perfect smile.

My heart heard songs of lovebirds,

Like it hadn’t for a while.

 

Turns out her name’s Ambrosia,

And she likes nerdy men,

Poets and musicians.

I was her perfect ten!

 

She led me to her lodgings,

Where we enjoyed some wine.

I gazed into her perfect eyes,

And she gazed into mine.

 

That night was full of passion.

Hey, come back here Nancy!

Who cares if she’s your sister?

She just looked so darn fancy.

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Writer’s Block Haikus

I’ve got writer’s block.

I can’t write worth crap tonight.

Thus this bad haiku.

 

Believe it or not,

That haiku took half an hour.

I’m just that plugged up.

 

Thus this post is done.

Hopefully I’ll be inspired.

Guess we’ll see, won’t we?

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Bob and Job’s Job (and the Call from the Mob)

Job’s job in the Navy was to work with Bob

Who bobbed up and down in some pools.

At the same time, at Times Square there gathered a mob

Who were angry about layoffs and rules.

 

It just so happened that Bob and Job’s mothers

Were mobsters of sorts in New York.

They bobbed in and out among mobsters and others

And compared cops to bacon and pork.

 

Well Job’s mother’s job was a hazardous one,

And somewhere amidst all the chaos,

Fortune would have it she butt-dialed her son

As the sun shone, and the mob talked of layoffs.

 

Far, far away, Job’s job was disturbed

By the sound of a hip-hop ringtone.

So he shouted “aye aye,” looking somewhat perturbed

And his commander’s eyes eyed his phone.

 

Job said “It’s my mother,” and Bob backed him up.

“I’ve got a call from mine too!”

They answered their phones, and Job answered “Sup?”

He only heard static and knew.

 

Yes he knew, then and there, where his mother’s long hair

Did wave in the air in New York.

He hung up his phone, saluted then and there,

And with a wrench, to a pool, applied torque.

 

I’m not sure why this tale is relevant,

But the tale of a tail that’s hairy

Does not normally involve an elephant,

So of butt-dials, friend, do be wary.

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Not Quite Campbell’s…

Cauldron wide and hungry,

You will be used today.

My stomach growls; It’s rumbly.

My hair is turning gray.

If I don’t make an antidote

For this sickness, oh so grim

Then as a ghost, away I’ll float.

Yes cauldron, let’s begin.

 

First we’ll add some pepper,

then three strong legs of toad.

The teardrops of a lepper,

And dust from a windy road.

We’ll toss in eye of rabbit,

The gizzard of my neighbor,

The vegetables of an abbot,

And the figurative fruits of labor.

 

I toss in something to slicken

The consistency of this great brew.

Then I toss in an extra-large chicken,

And I gaze joyfully at this stew.

Finally, some soap that smells fruity,

And a rhino’s pustulous poop!

My antidote’s the epitome of beauty:

A witch’s homemade chicken soup.

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Dirty Theo’s Happy Day

Theodore walked down the street

Wearing nothing but a smile.

Several people stared at him,

and several thought it was vile.

 

He grinned at children, moms and dads

And single people too.

He stuck his tongue out, licked his lips,

And knelt to take a poo.

 

Someone called the cops, they say,

‘Cause police arrived in minutes.

They chased Theo through the fray

And tried their best to pin it.

 

But towards the altercation

A tough young lad had stepped.

He said “That’s my dalmation.

He got out from where he was kept.”

 

So the police turned over Theo,

and the lad was justly fined.

That’s my tale.  Now I can see yo’

Have a dirty mind.

 

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Inspiration and Haiku

I write to you, dear reader

To tell you of my needs.

I tried to write 3 posts before this

But my mind found infertile seeds.

I thought of writing of decency

A poem of colors or love.

My fingers they typed, but alas and alack,

I received no great thoughts from above.

Today I will make a petition,

Just in case this lapse happens again.

If you want to inspire a poet,

Please leave me a thoughtful comment.

To make up for this otherwise,

Rather lackluster request,

I wrote you down a haiku

That you read when you need to get dressed:

Pull you pants on first.

Next put on a shirt or blouse.

Socks go on your hands.

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Memorial Day

A million, trillion years ago
A youngish caveman said,
“When to a person’s head there comes a blow,
They often wind up dead.”
He hoped that other cavemen noticed
His club’s wondrous power,
As he set off, entirely focused
On seizing social power.

Yet somehow we have not evolved
Beyond this caveman’s reason.
And when problems need to be resolved
We make it hunting season.
We no longer clobber with our clubs
But kill with guns and grenades.
Wouldn’t we be happier just giving love
Over cups of lemonades?

Until we learn that violence,
While effective, is sub-par,
We’re doomed to act like cavemen, since
Instead of talking, we spar.
But there is a time for everything
And while war’s go on, we’ll fight.
So long as America, of freedom, does sing
We’ll be free, clad in blue, red, and white.

This poem turned out seriously,
A fact I am not proud of.
So cheer for our veterans quite cheeriously
And start clubbing your neighbors with love.

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