I’m very proud if my teammate, Ted
Who always… ALWAYS… Gets out of bed.
You really proud of my teammate, Ben,
Who almosy always gets a few out of ten.
I’m really proud of my teammate Jon,
Who really has improved a ton.
But I’m noy proud of my teammate Rick.
Our MVP… What a dick!
Filed under Poems
We found the corners.
We built the edge.
We stuck some ins to some outs,
Then we jumped off a ledge.
Filed under Poems
Have you ever been walking,
Not thinking at all,
When you look up
And in love you fall?
I almost did
At 10:30 today,
Except that stupid pole
Got in the way.
My campsite was dull,
Overcome by a lull.
It lacked a certain flair,
So I talked to my wife
And got out my knife…
And carved a wooden bear.
Filed under Poems
When I was a wee squire
I smelt dragon fire
Beneath the stables of the castle.
I considered heroics,
But chose not to show it.
It was simply too much of a hastle.
Filed under Poems
Her skin was pale as moonlight,
Here eyes were bright like glass.
Who would’ve thought I’d find a girlfriend
At my taxidermy class?
Filed under Poems
I was tired of the piano.
It had a negative influence
On my life and my wellbeing.
To correct for this incongruence
I changed my choice of instrument.
Now I play the piayes.
I don’t have many gigs lined up,
But I think that’s for the bes’.
Filed under Poems
So many Depends
On a red wheelbarrow,
Speckled with what we hope is rainwater
Beside the white chickens.
Filed under Poems
When you are but a babe
Bursting forth from mother’s loins
You know nothing about the world,
Nor, in fact, about Des Moines.
But as you grow, you learn
That, for instance, Dad’s a plumber.
You grow forever wiser
While at the same time, dumber.
You learn at one, for instance
That your body must stay clean
And when you’re put in the sink
They’re not doing it to be mean.
At the age of six or seven
You move on from baths to showers,
But you take them very quickly,
Unlike teens, who go for hours.
And sometime around age 20
You maybe fall in love,
And find new uses for the shower
As well as for that rubber glove.
And maybe when you’re 40
Amidst your midlife lull
You realize the shower
Is a gender-neutral urinal.
And by the time you’re eighty
And, in the shower, you have to sit
You wonder if that urinal thing
Also goes for…
And there you are in a nursing home.
Your mind has gone for good.
Thus endeth your enlightenment,
Or so we knock on wood.
