A long time ago in Pacote
A princess would swim in the moat.
A frog said “I’m a knight,”
So she kissed him. That night
She wound up with a frog in her throat.
A long time ago in Pacote
A princess would swim in the moat.
A frog said “I’m a knight,”
So she kissed him. That night
She wound up with a frog in her throat.
Filed under Poems
I’ve seen your pictures everywhere.
I love the way you smell.
Some say you’re just a piece of meat
But you’re more… I can tell.
Your buns are round and toasty
And inside you’re tangy sweet
And if I had a bit more money
Then our meeting’d be my treat!
Filed under Poems
The pawns do naught but marching,
And often do they fall
For little more than hoping
That they’ll become queen after all.
The knights and bishops frolick
In the middle of the war,
Killed quickly by the competent
Or else begin to snore.
The rooks are oh so deadly,
The queen more fatal still
For these are weapons useful
To those of any skill.
But in the end I’m happy
That kingliness fell to me.
For every win I get the credit
And if I lose I mate for free!
Filed under Poems
It’s time to talk about
The pleasures of the flesh,
And our senses, touch and taste,
Can again be young and fresh.
I speak about excitement.
I speak of stimulation.
I speak about, of course,
The joy of mastication:
To place a bit of vibrancy
Inside one’s hungry maw
And caress it with the vigor
Of a gyrating human jaw.
I salivate for thinking
Of this thrice-daily delight,
For I masticate at morning
As well as noon and night.
And if I feel the hunger
Of my eternal human needs
I may masticate between meals
By enjoying my nuts and seeds.
And when I feel so lonely
And companionship I want
I go to town and masticate
At my choice of restaraunt.
Such exploits I do recommend,
For they are part of the human condition.
For those who are offended,
Go find mastication’s definition.
Filed under Poems
Her eyes were like headlights
Aglow in the rain.
Her lips were white lines
Guiding me into her lane.
Her body was the horizon
Towards which I would steer,
And her words said to me
“There’s no speed limit here.”
I pulled up beside her
And hoped I looked good,
Intending, I confess,
To get under her hood.
I subtly honked
As I pulled up beside her.
“What’s your name, darling?”
Then someone walked up beside her.
“She is Alexis,”
The newcomer smiled
In that very free way
That was driving me wild.
“And I’m her twin sister,
And my name is Portia.
We’d like to leave town,
But we don’t want to force ya’.”
And so we departed
From that little town,
Just me and two ladies
With the windows rolled down.
Some days you blow out,
Things don’t go like they should.
Other days, like today,
Life’s pretty darn good.
Filed under Poems
There once was a man who lived under a rock.
He liked to watch girls while he stroked his
Llama, which was small. It had been born a runt,
And to top it all off, it had a misshapen
Ear,so the man talked to a vet, who said, “Tough luck.
Your llama’s deformed, and I don’t give a
Medicine normally for this sort of thang.
But this is a llama I would like to
Treat.” And the vet left his the room and bid the man to sit.
The vet talked to his wife, then he knelt to lick her
Lollipop that she had frozen that morn.
Meanwhile, the llama’s owner watched some real dirty
Kids sit under trees, cedar and yew.
He thought “Those are children I really want to
Get to know better,” but decided against it.
Long story short, the llama got better, and did happily spit.
Filed under Poems
I look at myself in the mirror
And at those that I call my peers
And I wonder how this generation
Got so messed up in so few years.
Then it hits me like Big Uncle Louie
And the things he would do with his knee:
It isn’t our fault we’re how we are,
It’s the fault of the films of Walt Disney.
Girls have been told since Snow White
That it’s fine to share a home
With seven short, gem-mining strangers,
And to trust only dwarves, never a gnome.
We’ve been taught that marriage
Is right for anyone who
Is beautiful, and is most unacquainted
With their spouse to be. Love is a coup!
And finally they showed us that filthy “Toy Story,”
Which features “Woody” and “Buzz,”
A cowgirl, a slinky, and a kid-hugging bear
That smells like strawberry fuzz.
So if love doesn’t last for our lifetimes,
It’s assuredly not our fault.
It’s the films, meant for fun, that have scarred us.
You can blame our dysfunctions on Walt.
Filed under Poems
I have lots of hobbies.
I like working with my hands.
I spray my garden with my hose
And spray the fertile lands.
I like to pet the heads of snakes
And hear them hiss with glee.
I like big sandwiches, especially foot-longs,
Because they’re similar to a part of me.
I like long tubes and guys named Richard
Who go by their nicknames.
I like roosters (take a guess why),
And playing all sorts of games.
I also like innuendos,
And I hope you do too.
But if you didn’t, I’ll not fix my mistake,
And you’ll go on thinking this poem blew.
But if you enjoyed what I did
For you this summer eve.
I guarantee I’ll come again,
And with that, I now leave.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader