I used to be a beat cop
For the city of LA,
Busting heads and taking names
And shutting crooks away.
I had a code of honor
That would supersede the law…
That was me, the sexy renegade,
The American Eagle’s claw.
But though I stood at six-foot-ten
And had zero body fat,
Had six-pack abs and a .44 mag,
A badge and all of that
I knew my name was whispered
In every darkened alley
And I still could not see why
My parents chose to name me “Sally.”
Filed under Poems
We’ve seen names with apostrophes
And names that lack a vowel.
We have seen surnameless names
Like Retta, Link, and Farrel.
We’ve seen whatever Prince’s name
Had been known as previously.
I just hope I get to be the first
To name a kid with an Emoji.
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Is it just me or do baby names
Sound more and more like drugs?
Is Aaliyah or Grayson
Something one swallows or hugs?
Of Magdalen, Kavita,
Nunzio, and Tierneigh
Which are babies and which are options
To ask my doctor if its right for me?
There’s Allegra and Zahara,
Bahari and Alok,
Yet none of these has side-effects
According to my doc.
My hope is in the future
Parents go back so “Pam” and “Lee.”
That or RX companies
Make a drug named after me.
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Indiana Jones was a big success
(Until 2008).
You have to wonder if similar names
Would enjoy a similar fate
Like Alaska Round, detective
Or Iowa Guysummoney?
Idaho Youhadhertoo?
Would people find these funny?
Kansas state thing be abused
Or must we resort to towns
Like Helena -West Helena Johnson
Or, better yet, Cleveland Brown?
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Humpty Dumpty leapt from a wall
HD was determined to just end it all.
Later on on a talk show
Some Hollywood actor
Said being named “Humpty” may have just been a factor.
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I think that great philosophers
Who from the old days came
Were the ones who didn’t laugh
At each others’ stupid names.
Think of how the commons laughed
And asked Ptolemy why
They had to spell his name
Starting with a silent pi.
Think of how these silly names
Through laughter would disable those
Who sought to set their Platos
And forkos on the tableos.
Think of poor Epictetus
The flat-chested stoic
And poor Heraclitus
Whose parents misspelled “heroic.”
I hope there’ve Bentham fun times
Locke’d within this rant.
Some days I’m very Thoreau
But today I said “I Kant.”
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Deep in a forest
In some ancient year
Lived the grandest buck ever,
The king of the deer.
His antlers were mountains.
Sun and moon were his eyes.
There was nothing more massive
Or nearly as wise.
He spoke only truths
And healed all ills.
His laughter was music.
His teardrops were hills.
This primeval buck
Made all that’s good, fair, and lush
But his name was “Pookums”
So you don’t hear of him much.
Filed under Poems
