And The Award For Best Pet Goes To…

I’ve had a lot of pets.

Okay, not really… but a few

And I tell you with conviction

That the best of them is you.

When I read my poems to goldfish,

Guppies, betas, or trout

They get neither the humor

Nor what the poem’s about.

When I read my rhymes to kitties

They bite me on the thumb.

When I read my verse to doggies…

Well, alas, they’re cute but dumb.

When I read poems to my girlfriends,

Oh sure, they laugh and smile

And beg me to be their only love,

But that’s just not my style.

But you stay with me, readers.

You are my best friend and my steed.

I’m a lucky guy to have you,

And you don’t cost much to feed.

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I can’t hear you… Just some sexy music

They say iPhones have bad signal strength.

I think that’s a misconception,

Because I use a saxaphone.

Now that has bad reception!

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What Is A Sunday?

if Monday was productive

It would be Tuesday instead.

If Tuesday were called “Hump day”

Maybe we’d want to get out of bed.
If the end was in sight on Wednesday

We would enjoy it more.

If after Thursday was a weekend

It would not be such a snore.
Saturday’s a Friday

During which we needn’t work,

But Sunday is what Saturday

Would be if it were a jerk.
On Sunday we do nothing

Just like on Saturday,

Except our nothing is interrupted

By our freedom sneaking away.
We’re filled to our proverbial brim

With end-of-weekend anxiety.

That is what a Sunday is,

Or maybe that’s just me.

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But It’s Organic!

It had an extra leg, I think,

And several extra eyes.

I don’t know how it got into my drink.

Oh look at that… it flies!

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I’m Not Even Going To Apologize

Sometimes dogs are happy.

Sometimes dogs are sad.

You wanted a clever poem?

Well today, that’s just too bad.

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How To Make A Simple Meal For Company

This poem is a preview from my upcoming book, an as-of-yet untitled collection of 99 How-To Poems. Enjoy!

So you’re having friends or family
For a meal at your abode.
Last time you made a crumby meal,
And, alas, it kinda showed…

Here’s a foolproof strategy
To ensure your reputation
Remains intact. And luckily
It takes little preparation.

To understand one’s audience
Is a chef’s most vital feat.
You would not serve aged lettuce
Or cheese fresh from the teat.

Likewise, the understanding
That a dinner party guest
Mostly wants to be entertained
Will inform your menu best.

So, what food is entertaining
That is also easy to make?
How about a meal where a stripper
Comes jumping out of a cake?

Serve it with a side of green beans
That you got from a can
And your party will be talked about
Agan and agan and agan.

To make this meal, you need a phone
And, for each guest, a plate.
If you plan to use the internet,
Get your McAfee up to date.

Then search or call a while
‘Til you find a girl named “Candy,”
Because that would be ironic,
Which, at parties, comes in handy.

Then order a cake from Costco
To ensure she’ll fit inside.
Then all you’ve got is time to kill
And other time to bide.

And finally when your guests arrive
To partake of your feast
They’ll look around for dinner
But their eyes will find your beast.

By “your beast” I mean the cake,
Not Candy, by the way.
Some might scoff and call you names,
But trust me, that’s okay,

For when they see that cake explode
With the force of an under-clad dame
The word of the week in the neighborhood
Will surely be your name.

So go and throw your dinner bash
And have so much fun it’s a crime.
Rest easy, this plan is foolproof
And saves both time and thyme.

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Self-Inflicted Problems

Coffee and tea

With my good friend Cindy.

Coffee and cake

With my other friend Jake.

Coffee and porn

With my buddy Bjorn.

Coffee and grub

At the insomniac’s club.

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They Have Strong Legs in Mexico

I sang “dropkick me Jesus

“Through the goal posts of life.”

My Mexican gardener is very literal.

It’s caused us some strife.

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D-I-Why

For fourteen dollars and fifteen hours

I can buy some wood and plastic towers

And with the help of a hammer, saw,

Electric drill, and my guitaw

I can make a TV stand

That I created by my own hand.
For fifteen dollars and sixteen minutes

I can buy a stand already finished.

I’ll assemble it with an alan wrench,

Then maybe also build a bench.

But the pride of doing is better than haste.

Besides, can’t let those towers go to waste!

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In Defense of Rhyme

There are those who tell me

That a poem that rhymes

Is unnescessary.

There are those who say

A poem that rhymes

Is of the devil

Or the patriarchy

Or “kind of stringent, don’t you think?”

Their tellings and sayings

Spool around the cellar

Of an ivory tower

Whose black horses

And cakes which are a lie

No longer echo

In the halls of our great uncles.

Confusion is their currency.

Paragraphs

Are

Their

Playthings.

I do not understand this poem.

Neither do you.

I just wrote it to show ’em,

Figuratively, who’s who.

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