Plenty of fish
Want to live on land,
To lie in the sun
And play in the sand.
Plenty of birds
Want to live in the sea,
To eat what they want,
To swim and be free.
Plenty of men
Want to live in the sky,
To grow ever higher,
Never to die.
But all of these beings
Both near and afar
Can be equally happy
Finding peace where they are.
Filed under Poems
My horse and I have traveled
Over miles of mountain and glen
Slaying dragons, wooing ladies,
And then doing it all again.
We fought our way to this castle
Surrounded by magical thorns.
With my sword, I carved my way through them
With my backup chorus of horns.
I bathed in the courtyard fountain,
Doffed my armor and donned my suit,
Made by the finest craftsmen in the kingdom
And tailored to flatter my patoot.
And I climbed up ten thousands flights
Of ruined and slippery stairs,
Not breaking a sweat or a nail
(And bravely fought off several bears).
Now I gaze on my love’s sleeping visage
And my heart gives a coo like a dove
As my lips caress hers. Still she slumbers.
Hey, what’s this clause on the wall ’bout true love?
Filed under Poems
The color gold is very bold,
Yet platinum’s even bolder.
An emerald’s shine is quite divine
And a ruby’s glow does smolder.
Pearls are smooth and friendly
And shall stand the test of time,
And silver would be more popular
If the poor thing had a rhyme.
Filed under Poems
I was driving to meet Lady Mulberry
When I heard great caterwauling.
A melee of a feral type
Had broken out. Appalling!
As I drew closer I clearly saw
That an ape and weasel sparred.
The weasel adroitly popped the ape
Who slunk away, badly scarred.
I realized I’d witnessed
A nasty, brutish crime
(Though around the bush in Mulberry
It happens all the time).
So I called the cops on weasel pops
An ambulance for the chimp
Who got in the bus without a fuss
But a very noticeable limp.
Then I left the bush district
Past other rodents and macaques
Until I reached my Lady’s venue,
A restaurant called Jack in the Box.
Filed under Poems
Samson’s hairs were much like twines
As the strong man fought the Philistines.
His dreads inspired lots of fear
(From the smell, just to be clear).
Then he met a Philly girl
Whose hair, like his, was fun to twirl.
They went to Alaska to be married,
A long walk yes, but they never tarried.
As they were wed ‘neath the lights boreal
Dalila was plotting with L’oreal
For if Samson was “worth it,” so might it be
That the war could end sweet and silkily.
And at the igloo’s honeymoon suite
Samson had begun to eat
While Dalila washed his long dark hair,
Both wife and husband unaware
That instead of fancy shampoo, there
Was a mislabeled bottle containing Nair.
With Samson bald, Dalila wept
As from the icy floor she swept
The locks which brought both strength and love
Which had been granted from above.
And so Samson fell from grace,
His head now bald, but not his face.
Dalila wanted to comfort him so,
And said “darling, I think the beard should go.”
Filed under Poems
My charger is broken,
My battery’s low,
So here is a poem.
Now I’ve got to go.
(One stanza’s too little,
So I wrote this postscript,
Risking my battery
So you don’t feel gypped).
Filed under Poems
If I were better looking
I might’ve turned out vainer,
And fighting off all my admirers
Could be an energy drainer.
If I were affluenter
I’d have a doctorate degree
And I’d spend all of our evenings
Psychoanalyzing me.
If I were much more charming
I’d deserve a laurel wreath
And I could blind you accidentally
With the gleaming of my teeth.
If I were any better
I would surely be much worse
So quit whining and accept me
And stop being so darn terse.
Filed under Poems
You’ve probably seen a zebra,
That pretty, stripy horse,
And you probably know a pinto
And a black stallion of course.
And lots of horses have little marks
That make them look real rad,
But no one loves me, for I’m a horse
Who was born in neon plaid.
Filed under Poems
I’ve been thinking about Eden,
About Adam and his rib
And pond’ring how to make it
Poetical and glib.
And I realized the Bible
Could be scientifically read
If you thought of Eve’s creation
As splitting the Adam instead.
Filed under Poems
I don’t have a pet chameleon
Which is probably for the best
Since I would run that chameleon
Through an all-inclusive test.
What does a chameleon
Change its color to
If it’s put in a room full of mirrors?
That’s on what my mind does stew.
And can you still watch tv
If chameleons cover your screen?
Can a blind chameleon imitate
Things that it has never seen?
And are some chameleons lazy
That after they change their color, say,
They lack the motivation to change
And just keep their scales that way?
I’ll never get a chameleon
As this poem will attest
For if I did the chameleon
And I would never rest.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 