Thirty-six to forty-eight
Bars of polished wood
Cut in a way that they vibrate
To play the note they should.
It isn’t quite a saxophone
If used to woo the fairer sex
But out from the crowd it has grown
Because its name starts with an X.
Filed under Poems
I once knew a Moroccan
Who thought that I was shockin’.
I gave him a shake
To see what sound he’d make
And he said “That’s a maraca, dumbass!”
Filed under Poems
I brought a dozen roses,
A diamond, and a kitten
To serenade by starlight
The lass with whom I’m smitten.
I sang “Every Breath You Take”
To my very special girl.
Then she locked me in her laser sights
And sang me “Goodbye Earl.”
Filed under Poems
Satan wants to eat your soul for breakfast.
Yeah, that’s a thing that Satan wants to do.
His mouth’s already watering
At the prospect of slaughtering
That tasty human spirit that is you!
Satan wants to eat your soul for breakfast.
I heard him to his Mrs. Satan say
“Hey, why don’t you and me go
“Have some eggs and Human Ego
“As a nutritious snack to start the day!”
Satan has a hunch
That it’s too soon for lunch
And, by that logic, also too soon for dinner.
But they don’t sleep-in in Hell
And to start his day off well
You are the perfect portion size of sinner!
(Everybody)!
Satan wants to eat your soul for breakfast.
He wants to fill his belly with your Id.
I hope you’ve read your Dante
‘Cause you’re what Satan wants. Hey!
That’s what you get for being a naughty kid!
Somewhere between the lobby
And my destination floor
The elevator chose
Not to move up anymore.
Perhaps the lift malfunctioned
When the console met my fists
But hey, no more classic rock
With jazzy little twists!
Filed under Poems
I met you, romantic prospect,
At a facility frequented by listeners of this genre.
It was unrealistically perfect
To look upon ya.
Then I sang about nothing!
Then I sang the same nothing!
Then the same nothing again
One more time!
I mentioned your physical appearance
But also a personal detail
To convince listeners of this genre
That you, romantic prospect, are real.
Then I sang about nothing!
Then the exact same nothing!
Then a slightly lengthened version of the same nothing
(With backup singers)
One more time!
Then I sang again about nothing!
(Because choruses, yo)
Then again about nothing!
(Because choruses bro)
One more time about nothing!
(Yay radio…)
One more time!
Fade and repeat ad infinitum…
Placelandia! We celebrate
The nation that is not a state,
The place where politicians come to die!
Where residents have common sense
And our plan for national defense
Is not to be a dick to folks nearby.
Placelandia! We celebrate
Our lack (so far) of Watergate
Or other nasty scandals of that kind.
Where citizens think differently
And something backs our currency;
A country built with happiness in mind.
Placelandia! Placelandia!
A nation that can safely be ignored.
Placelandia! Placelandia!
Where drama-seeking tourists will be bored.
Placelandia! We celebrate
That here nice guys can get a date
And nobody is told they must comply.
Where everybody owns a Glock
And Fox exec Rupert Murdoch
Would not have had to cancel Firefly.
Placelandia! We celebrate
A place mostly devoid of hate,
Where legs just shave themselves if given time.
We hope you have enjoyed this song
And pop stars didn’t sing too long
Before the very easy ending rhyme.
Placelandia! Placelandia!
It’s a pretty snazzy kinda joint.
Placelandia! Placelandia!
Okay, okay, okay! We get the point!
