The fragments of a sunny mind
Coalesced in humble station
Do take images clear and true
To merge by obfuscation.
Meter and alliteration,
Thesaurus ad infinitum;
The poet utilizes these
As his poems, he does write ’em.
What once was green and white
Is basil and alabaster
If indeed the poetry you find
Is scripted by a master.
With these prerequisites complete
Thus finished is the poetic feat,
But resist that tempting lure.
Add a few more stanzas to be sure.
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A hundred miles from nowhere
With sand between my toes,
I walk a beach without an ocean.
It’s my own fault, I suppose.
Her voice said “make a u-turn,”
But I thought that I knew better.
As the burns cover my body
I long for somewhere wetter.
A cactus is my crucifix,
A dune is my headstone.
She was right about the fastest route.
If only I had known…
Now lost amidst the desert
The vultures circle, waiting.
As I wait for her to finish
Her last words: “Recalculating.”
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Do animals who reproduce
Asexually
Get turned on by the absence
Of phallic imagery?
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“I think you’re wrong” said someone
Who thought that they were right.
“I think you’re wrong,” said someone else,
And they began to fight.
I’d bet a million pesos
You saw that on TV last night.
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Have you ever laughed so hard
You find it hard to breathe,
Your speech gets kinda slurry
And “wheeze” sounds just like “weathe,”
Your armpits start to sag a bit
And your facial hair falls out
And you say “no thanks” to cookies
From that visiting girl scout,
Your tongue gets heavy and falls off,
Your eyeballs leak pink ooze,
You start to smell in color
And hear good things on the news?
Basically that’s what happened,
So there’s the need to stare.
I laughed that hard this morning
When I told you that I care.
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It was one of those days
When you want apple pie
But the waitress is cute
And you’re just too shy.
It’s one of those days
To spend at the riverbank
But when you drive there, the water’s
All stuck in a tank.
You want to hang out
With men who are classy
But good guys are drunk, so you settle
For guys who’re half-assy.
And you and your half-assy
Friends you’ll soon see
Just sit around singing
About mortality.
Oh my my,
I missed the American pie.
Drove my chevy to the levy
But the levy was dry,
And the good old boys
Were drinking whiskey and rye.
Yeah, I guess this’ll be
The day that I die.
If I were a possum
Life would still be awesome.
If I were a kangaroo
Our love would still be true.
If other marsupials I knew
This poem would have another stanza or two.
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I saw on my lawn, between the mounds
Of wood chips, a dog of 15 pounds.
It was white and fluffy and ugly as sin
And it was having its way with my newspaper bin.
So I snuck over and scooped him up.
Oh, you should have heard that pup!
He barked and wailed and growled and bit.
I knew no way to calm the…git
And so I took it to the pound
To hope the monster would be found.
The police met me at the door.
As I was cuffed, I asked “what for?”
I was arrested for my labors
For my lawn has no wood chips: ‘Twas my neighbor’s.
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“Your mother is a gator
“And your sister smells like glue!”
I thought he’d be offended,
But he wasn’t ’cause it’s true.
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The Daily Travesty 
ET (2016)
I’m an ugly alien
Stranded in a foreign land,
My family a universe away.
This didn’t turn out like I planned.
Now I labor day and night
To find a way to contact home.
Thanks to the help of local youth
My labors led me to a phone.
A phone, I’ve found, is a device
On which your reputation grows
By means of posting stolen jokes
And NSFW photos.
There are a million methods of
Making heard the things you say.
You can give a one-star Yelp review
But post pics of your meal anyway.
It’s easy to become burned out
By the never-ending social slog,
But if you do, why not recover
By sharing your favorite poetry blog?
I checked Foursquare for where I am.
This “Earth” has left me entertained,
But I must flee in my Uber now
Before humans dissect my brain.
Thanks for all your efforts
To enumerate my clout.
And with that said, ET phones home.
Roflol, XO, Peace out!
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Tagged as Aliens, ET, Humor, Phones, Poetry, Postaday, Remakes, Social Commentary, Social Media