Tag Archives: Children

Be Like The Index Toe

If you don’t eat roast beef

You’ll do all right.

If you have none

There’s no need to fight.

If you go to market

You’re fine by me

But it’s best to stay home

And go “wee wee wee wee.”

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The Rest Is How To Playjurize Wikipedia Without Getting Cot

Ten persent of school

Is lurning how to get along.

Forty-two persent

Is lurning that you spelled stuph rong.

Maybe five persent

Is how to fill your plate and cup.

The other eighty-five persent

Is how to add things up.

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Baby’s First Gangsta Rap

I hit my brother

And hit my mother.

It was not okay.

They said “Don’t hit.”

I said “No shit”

And hit them anyway.

Cops saw the fight,

Turned on their light,

And hit me in the gut.

So hitting’s okay

With the government’s say?

And I was all like “Wut?”

I hit the cop

And hit my pop

With my inflatable hammer.

They cuffed my wrists

To stop my fists

And shut me in the slammer.

I was in jail

‘Cause no one paid bail

And was charged in juvenile court.

I can’t write a sentence

But I’ll attempt repentance

And maybe build a fort.

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Post-Holiday Pleasures

What’s most nearly opposite

To gently falling rain,

Your lover’s gentle heartbeat,

And comfort of the brain?

The answer starts with “Someone”

And ends with “Else’s baby on a plane.”

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He Later Worked For The VA

Sitting in the waiting room,

A boy of almost eight,

Who’s never missed a chance to floss,

Nor abided sugar on his plate.

The scream of dental instruments

(And of those on which they’re used)

Leave me with a sense of peace,

Sedate and much amused.

I wore a three-piece suit to school

The morning ‘fore I came.

I was born to be a dentist

Though the others call me lame.

Yet I fear I shall not meet my dream,

Not for lack of smarts or drive

But because I am indifferent

To whether patients stay alive…

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Watch Out

I saw a sign while driving home

That said “Watch for Children At Play.”

Although inconvenient to not know the time

I made the trade anyway.

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Trouble In Baltimore

My child asked me this morning

“If hitting is bad,

“How come people hit baseballs?”

Then he flew away.

I later discovered

He was not my child at all.

It was an oriole in disguise.

His sudden aversion to hitting

Makes sense now.

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