Chapped lips, dry skin,
Hair without a bobby pin,
Baggy pants, hairy pits,
A shirt that hides any sign of tits,
Spotty face, mustache line,
Eau de toilette called “big ass pine,”
A house that others call a sty:
Just another great day of being a guy!
Tag Archives: Freedom
Correlation and Causation
The caged hamster
Lays no eggs.
Imprisoned gators
Give no milk.
Detained cobras
Have no legs.
Subjugated silkworms
Yield no silk,
Yet free-range chickens
Lay eggs daily.
Fence-free cows
Give endless cream.
Freedom lets you
Go through life gaily,
So free the hamsters and reptiles
And we’ll live the dream!
Filed under Poems
The Evening Following Fido’s Emancipation
Tasty chunka meat
Sizzlin’ nicely on the stove.
Who’s “master” now, Bitch?
Filed under Poems
On My Own Terms (The Cat Song)
You take me into your home.
You keep me inside and play with my hair.
You call me a pretty boy
Then you punish me. Baby, give me some air!
You say “call me master.”
I am your slave now.
But I’ll live on my own terms
And soon to me you’ll bow.
You thought you’d relax in the bathroom,
Have clean furniture and a new-house smell.
You forgot me in that equation.
Now I welcome you to nine lives in Hell.
You said “call me master.”
I just said “meow.”
But I’ll live on my own terms
So who’s the master now?
Now you call me master.
You’re little more than my serf.
Now you’ll live by my terms
Or get your ass off my turf!
That Got Morbid Fast…
If freedom were free
That would be fine with me,
But then who’d pay for weapons
To blow up the foreigners?
So thank guys in cammo
And the makers of ammo
For giving us freedom.
Yours truly, the coroners.
Free Spirit Seeking Eternal Partner – ZfH
Home is where the heart is,
So the saying goes.
It’s a saying that was the cause
Of all my earthly woes.
Then I met some zombies,
And they were pretty slick
‘Cause they made my home
Inside of their stomach.
So I was on vacation
For the first time ever,
Although looking back, my “life”
Wasn’t part of the endeavor.
It took guts to free myself,
And I’d love to share the wealth.
Please tell me your address,
Because undeath’s good for your health.
Filed under Poems
Camping
Polite society demands
Knowledge of useless things
Like how to dress and shaking hands
And “Red Bull gives you wings.”
But in the woods we socialize
In much more pleasant ways
Like cooking meat over a fire,
Not showering for days.
We sleep in tents upon the ground
And wake up with the sun.
We fight off bugs and bears and stuff.
We think that’s really fun.
When our trip ends we must return
To home and cubicles
To learn again our lot in life:
To learn to love the lulls.
But I won’t do that anymore.
I’m staying in the woods,
Where I can sing among the birds,
Free from the world of should’s.
And so I did ’til I ran out
Of beans and other tack.
Now back to home to better plan
The day that I come back…
Filed under Poems
When the Music Left the Elevator
The melody took to the sky
Carrying passengers as it soared.
It sang with all its passionate grace,
Yet the busy humans snored.
Later, the song descended.
Its calming chord still blares
Throughout the box for people
Uninclined to take the stairs.
The saxophones and drum set
Make monotony so sweetly
But the elevator’s patrons
Tune out its song completely.
So the melody went sideways
To where the unsmelled flowers go
And lived its quiet style of life
Under the uncounted stars aglow.
And those that rode that metal box
Just heard the elevator’s hissing
And they stared at the lights, unspeaking,
Unaware what they were missing.
Filed under Poems
The Scofflaw’s Manifesto
There’s a convenient fact about rules
That assumes followers are fools.
They can punish you after the fact,
But they cannot control how you act.
So do whatever you want,
(But misdoings you ought not flaunt)
For the crime that does no harm
Has no place under the law’s long arm.
Filed under Poems
Fly Ball
You think of the pinstripes,
The mitts, cleats and bats.
You think of the jerseys
And the old baseball hats.
But did you ever think
About the life of the ball?
Smacked around all day long,
Built to fly, made to fall.
Schwunk! Went the bat
And up the ball flew,
Two hundred feet up
Into the beautiful blue.
But this time the ball
Had had enough of this life,
So he stayed up in the air
For the rest of his life.
He flew off to Cuba
And made it his home.
Now that, girls and boys,
Is why we play under a dome.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 