Skagway has a choo-choo ride
Up through an icy pass.
My wife and I ate burgers there
‘Cause the cruise burgers were… fine.
There was a tram that led up to
Majestic mountains silver.
They also sold alpaca clothes
That cost so much they… fine?
We watched a film about the rush
For gold in Yukon lands.
The supply of actual gold to find
Far outweighed demand
And so a lot of horses died
(And sure, some humans too).
My wife got sick… I found a stick…
Did I mention the choo-choo?
Filed under Poems
The capital of Alaska
In the Southeast of the state
Is a street where jewelry stores abound
And shirt shops congregate.
We visited a gold mine
That closed in ‘44
‘Cause everyone’s favorite Austrian
Got the miners sent to war.
We panned for gold, discovering
A treasure to hold dear:
That we’d have died if we’d been born
In a gold rush type of year.
On every side were waterfalls
And the sun was warm and high.
Overall a decent town
Provided it’s July.
Filed under Poems
‘Twas 1:00 O’clock, so said my watch
But be it day or night
I could not tell, for in the sky
Was a full moon so bright.
Beside it in the starlight
A single star shone brighter;
It was the sun, and so begun
Our first three-month all-nighter.
In the East the sun did rise,
And in the West it sets,
But in the North it matters not
How late the daytime gets.
‘Twas in the Summer moonlight
That I saw the Summer sun,
And so it is both day and night
Until the Summer’s done.
Filed under Poems
The air was full of mosquitoes
And someone gave me a spray:
“It’s called mosquito repellant
“And it keeps the bugs away.”
I put it on my body
And away went all my cares.
Now I’m going to try the spray
For repelling the bears!
Filed under Poems
Such a travesty is BC Hwy 99I think the guys who built it were blind
Or perhaps were very drunk
This road doesn’t make sense to a duck.
The road was built for Mario Cart
Level one is 340 degree turns
Level two is curves that lead to un-marked one-lane bridges
Level three add turning trucks
And if that isn’t more than enough
Level four the deer are suicidal.
Level five we take away the road signs
Level six adds falling rocks
Level seven adds the rain
Level eight is and 15% grade
Level nine is 10 km/hr on that grade
I don’t want to reach level ten —
Not even the Buddha has that level zen.
JOFFRE LAKES!
Now it all makes sense!
And at the village intersection
As the clock strikes midnight,
We pass the bloody Grim.
And across a bridge we go
To be warned of washout conditions.
I have 99 problems
And this road is all of them.
Filed under Poems
The reindeer grew impatient.
They’d not flown for a year,
And so had entertained themselves
With dirty jokes and beer.
The big night was six weeks away.
They wanted to hit the gym,
But they had to have permission from
The one, the only… Him.
So Cupid and Vixen volunteered
To do some good deer/bad deer
And get their training authorized
By mister snowy-white beard.
“Mista Claus?” Cupid asked
In her Boston reindeer drawl.
“Our bellies all got really big
And our muscles super small.”
The big red suit stayed silent
Giving no indication,
So Vixen thought the time was ripe
For some intimidation.
She leapt upon his table
And wished that she had antlers.
She smashed a few of Santa’s toys
And three vodka decanters.
Cupid saw it coming
But a few seconds too late:
Santa’s eyes got angry,
And Vixen was served on a plate.
Seven subdued reindeer
Resumed their aimless days,
Their hopes of strength forsaken
By the mounting Christmas haze.
Four weeks later, the seven awoke
To a burning reddish glare.
A red-nosed reindeer robot
Was flying through the air.
They knew at once they’d been replaced,
And that they’d have to go
To avoid poor Vixen’s fate,
Come the next Ho-Ho-Ho.
So somewhere in Alaska
Seven flabby caribou
Seek someone to fly away with them.
Perhaps it will be you?
Filed under Poems
I walk among
the snowy trees
Enveloped by
a chilling breeze.
I see a moose
among the arbors
And wonder what
secrets it harbors.
I brush my hand
against the branches
And remember a war
fought in the tranches.
The bullets flew,
The blood rained red
‘Til everyone but me
Was dead.
So I look at the moose
Who’ll never fight
A war he don’t
Believe is right.
I envy him,
The big dumb deer,
And I know I’ll live
My life out here,
Never alone
Among the trees.
I’ll always have
The memories.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 