Back to lips
“Damn” I said
Wink to reflection
Now off to bed
Back to lips
“Damn” I said
Wink to reflection
Now off to bed
There ain’t no Book of Life
at the Pearly Gates.
Instead, God sniffs your life potpourri
and (Bam!) He knows your fate.
You see, all your thoughts and actions
from the kind to oh-so-evil
dry into life potpourri
ready for Divine retrieval.
Angels flank him at His sides
(with espresso beans in hand),
cleansing his nasal palate
prevents a misreading of “bland!”
If God wrinkles his nose at your bowl
(or worse!) recoils in disgust:
your plans for everlasting bliss
perchance are a bit robust.
And if God should have a cold that day
and his olfactory sense is missing.
You’ll join the queue in Purgatory
till His nose has had some fixing.
His Saints potpourri is in His sock drawer.
His Angels in sachets.
His do-gooders are on His mantel.
His devotees by His ashtray.
If you wanna-wanna be it
take-a take-a look inside.
The courage and go-go-ness
already in you reside.
Instead of: “I can’t-ta, can’t-ta.”
Try: “I can-a, I will try!”
The pruning shears are in your hands,
life is your very own bonsai.
I’m the flagship store.
I’m the grand debut.
I’m the gasps, the clicks,
the points, the stares.
Did you know that I’m HQ?
I’m the reason for confetti.
The cheers, the “hip hip hoorays!”
I am the Honoree,
the encore at the ballet.
I’m the ceremony.
I take the cake.
In this little thing called life
did you know I raise the stakes?
When your plug is pulled
and your life whirlpool starts a twirling,
just remember things can get much worse:
think of broccoli covered vermin!
My “to-do” list is overflowing
(some over-clocking is my hunch).
My but “to-done” list is empty as can be
so I’m off for lunch.
Your life’s not a chore.
Stop tallying score.
We all have a bull
who is chasing our cape.
We’ve all missed the mark
when flipping our crepe.
Just hold your head high
and walk with some swagger.
Tickle your pain
and you’ll surely get laughter.
There was once a little girl
No one could pronounce her name
so they’d spell it out instead.
Poor little a-b-c-d-e-f-g-h-i-j-k-l-m-n-o-p-q-r-s-t-u-v-w-x-y-zed
(let’s call her Alphabeta).
Her twenty six lettered name
proved to be an alpha-dilemma!
At school her teacher would call on her
(a task rife with verbal indigestion).
By the time she’d finished she would think:
“now just what was my original question!?”
As she grew (just like her name)
Alphabeta would still point & answer with description.
Insightful commentary it was indeed
for anyone who’d listen.
Pointing to her Aunt Maybelline:
“heart, lungs, liver & spleen”
Pointing to a cake at the baker’s counter:
“egg, vanilla, sugar, & a bit of flour.
Poor little Alphabeta
became quite the subject of town gossip.
“Did you hear what she said to Father Jon?
“Toupee & init for a profit!”
Granny smirking in her chair,
a suspicious Granny sitting.
Oh my dentures!
Have you seen
just what Granny’s knitting!?
Head lice chauffeur.
Listed as her top credential:
“proficient in all three utensils.”
now a mest.
Baby grabbed spoon!
Maybe not so soon…
(spoon on ground).
Peek a boo round four
cute beyond belief.
Peek a boo round thirty-five,
mama wants aperitif.
Birth plan devised
(no nurse shall it hinder!)
plan out the vinder!
sounds great deal like
Mrs. Clause put Santa on a diet
but now he’s sitting in a cell.
His christmas eve mission this year…well,
did not really go so well.
Section 2 (breaking & entering)
was his Christmas morning crime.
With no rosey cheeks or stomach round
he wasn’t recognized!
Thud! Santa flew down the chimney
(his belly used to provide some friction)
This year presents weren’t on his mind
… cupboard raiding was his mission!
Spotting the milk and cookies
he raced to them in a flash.
Soon only crumbs and drops were left
……but Santa wanted the stash!
He would have gotten away with it
if after the cookies he did scury.
It was the sound of pots and pans that night
that awoke the Jones in a fury.
“At 3am he stood in my kitchen,
a skinny Santa eatting my squid!
He even brought his own apron that said:
“Being naughty saves me a trip!””
So Santa has a mugshot now
But his regrets are zero, null!
His grin has a message clear
“at least my tummy’s nice and full.”
Oh the virus has infected you!
It’s rampant and you’re teeming!
To cure yourself? Only one way!
Look at life as though your dreaming
I think I’ll write poetry for life
without care of what minds think.
Afterall should you not like it now
…. perhaps you will after a drink.
Be not the green beans, mash or niblet corn
grab the wheel of life and honk that horn!
There’s an elephant in the bathtub
(the drains clogged with peanut shells once more).
Theres a chinchilla in the bedroom
who only answers to “senor.”
There’s a hippo counting spin cycles
of a sparrow in the dryer
(he’s searching for his sparrow pants
that have a 2 for 1 worm buffet flyer).
There’s a penguin in the freezer
waiting for the ice box to set.
There’s pack of lions in the study
learning to play russian roulette.
There are 10 rats wearing spoons as helmuts
riding down the garbage chute.
There’s a german owl getting elocution lessons
“no no! It’s not “voot”…its “hoot!”
There’s a giraffe in the dining room
sneering: “uh, such taste nouveau!”
There’s a zoo keeper looking into empty cells
and thinking one thing: “uh oh.”
New dentist open for business
no appointment is required.
All you need to do is let him know
what time each day you’re tired.
He’ll pop by close to bedtime
as he does with all his patients
He’ll yawn 10 times right in your face
(since yawing is contagious!).
On cue as you yawn back to him
be sure to open wide,
he’ll clean your teeth at lightning speed
and take a look inside.
Should you fall alseep on him
and chomp down on his tools
I’m afraid his fees go up for his
(as does cleaning your drool).
An extra fee is charged as well
for cleaning as you sleep-walk.
And for an extra hundred flat
he’ll record what you sleep -talk!
He’s only had one complaint thus far
“In defense, she does look fetching”
Cindy Loo might disagree:
(he attached her braces to her bedding!)
No matter your opinion though
(and most do think his skills are splendid)
To your complaint he’ll always say:
“I’m tooth fairy recommended!”
If distance makes the heart grow fonder
do you look at yours & think “go wander”
I’m calling to discuss your duck
I’ve heard its the best in town.
But I’m not convinced.. not one bit
so take these instructions down.
Before I dine in 2 weeks time I like
to learn your pre cooking technique.
Not from your chef or maitre’d
but from your duck’s own beak!
Please start him on an English course
excelerated written and verbal.
I won’t tolerate “it can’t be done”
I just met turkish speaking gerbal!
If his answer is unsavory
I’m guessing my palette he won’t thrill.
So he can join me for lunch
(…he’ll be handling the bill).
Come one, come all
Don’t be timid!
Ride the tunnel of love
Buy here your ticket!
I took a seat
and to my delight
tall dark and handsome
was to my right!
But once in the tunnel
there was a gaze on my face.
Uh oh! Tall dark and handsome
had been swiftly replaced!
A pair of thick lenses
stared back at me.
Acne reading science journal
had moved up from row 3!
I considered jumping overboard
while in tunnel’s cave.
“I don’t like bunsen burners!!!”
in my mind I did engrave.
But cupid I knew had struck me
when I had the thought disgraceful
“I’d really like to learn more about …
the perodic table!”
The tunnel had me as a victim
as we moved out from its shelter.
I touched his arm, batted my eyes and asked:
“Is that real polyester?”
So consider this a warning
on this love inducing ride.
Its best to always have a say
on who you sit beside.
from bed to couch
can be prevented by
a censored mouth
***Hi everyone! I will be in Phuket for work so won’t be posting this week….rhyme to you soon!
Cupid Archery School
now open for admissions.
Bow and arrow are provided.
Clothes strictly are forbidden!
Sharp eyesight is required
as is good hand eye coordination!
(While the school wishes the couple well
we don’t want a repeat of last year’s goat / horse situation!).
Applicants must be girth generous
(slim cupids are unsightly!).
Please address your application
to Headmaster Aphrodite.
Should you be rejected
we offer remedial love 101 at night.
NB: Many of our rejected candidates
have launched successful dating sites.
is a movement chock full of slackers.
How can you truly worship the legume…
if you eat animal crackers!!?
Being a wife is easy.
The rules are stark and bare:
Repeat what you just have said
and be not attached to his hair.
I have a theory.
It’s no tall tale!
I’m sure the postbox
reads my mail!
I put in a letter
heard a pen uncap
then: “that’s better!”
I mailed a sweater
to Cousin Doug
heard paper rip
then “…a little snug!”
I’m sure I saw him
blush 1/2 shade redder!
I think he was
reading my love letter!
And for some reason
I now have a subscription
to “Postbox Digest:
I’m not quite sure
on what to do next.
But one things for sure:
no mailing cheques!
To keep Granny rocking at good tempo
serve her tea and cake alfresco.
Just ensure the tea’s decaf
(Whispers:) I’m sure “why” you dont’ have to ask…
Don’t you remember the headline from last year’s Telegraph?
Caffeine feuled Granny rocks down to Earth’s Mantle!!
Red light doesn’t really mean stop.
It means proceed
(just don’t get caught!)
Yellow light? Ha!
Silly light citrus!
Its point is just to break up
colour sheme christmas!
Oh it has two messages key!
Step on the gas
and plant a tree.
— (interrupt all of a sudden)–
“I’m sorry but where may I ask
is your unsubscribe button?
“Hello welcome to our restaurant.
For how many? Smoking or not?
Follow me please” (Two steps in)
“Uh oh I think we’re lost”
Dinner this week?
Just not with you!
If you want to be adored
the rules are simple: just ignore.
Ignore him when his eyes on you
ignore him when his calls persue.
Ignore too long? (…to be abhorbed!)
He can’t pursue you from the morgue!
Cliques aren’t allowed,
in the number line.
That’s why there’s an even between
each and every prime.
6 is a rebel.
A rebel.. outright!
(As he’s the only number
facing to the right!).
3 and 8 have history.
Once each other they did resemble.
Until they got into a fight
and part of 3 eight disassembled!
Even 10 has issues,
(oh, he’s deeply blue!).
“If you saw 01 in the mirror,
you would have issues too.”
0 through 9 love living,
a true bachelor’s life.
Fact: all numbers above 9…
have a number wife!
There are some numbers,
hmm, how do this I word?
Like 22 and 44…
that truly me disturb!
9 and 10 have egos,
egos indeed grostesque,
(afterall on the rating scale
they are rated the best).
But remove their circles
(10’s beside, nine’s at the top).
And both are simply “1”
(that always gives their ego a good knock!).
The issues of 1 through 10,
are indeed complex.
But brace yoursef, it does get worse:
just try the alphabet!
Sun up fresh day.
Preconceptions go away!
Keep your distance inclinations!
Stay away temptations!
Habits waiting in living room?
Prejudice in mental womb?
Tendancies impatient to get started?
Quick go tell whims that I’ve departed.
Sun down under covers.
as are the others.
With good intentions I tried to stray
but all they said was “not today.”
Wait, where’s habit? He’s gone I think!
Oh he’s just up getting a drink.
To please one’s host
is not a science.
If food disgusts
blame the appliance.
A buggy sits on laptop screen.
In one spot it does hover.
How do I break its buggy heart?
It thinks the cursor is its mother!
If one’s dizzy
drink some fizzy.
There’s a rumble
I can’t ignore
It rumbles loud
It rumble roars!
This rumble from my thoughts won’t vanish
The world is ending?
Nope, just famished!
The biggest fear
Not screaming boss
The biggest fear
Not theft or violence
The biggest fear
Is utter silence!
When I’m old I’ll fill my wrinkles
with some skin coloured sprinkles.
My face will be a mosaic
and no longer will I look archaic.
in birdy tummy.
Birdy poop on head
is birdy funny!
Scrambled boss for breakfast
with a side of water cooler.
A steaming cup of deadline
topped with inter-office rumours!
Email egg at lunchtime.
Bacon’s down my back once more.
Toast wants to see the figures.
Coffee’s meeting was a bore!
My phone doesn’t like my boyfriend,
on our calls I know he’s listening.
He often crosses the line & whispers….
“try him, he’s much more interesting!”
My fever’s feving,
my brain has swelled.
My knees are knocking double time
and I cannot stop speaking in rthyme!
I think your reading material gave me bronchitus
and your doorknob….arthritis!
Your previous patient, her dignosis?
It looked like rubella with slight neurosis!
You better write me her prescription,
as it seems I’ve got her affliction.
How clean is that stethoscope?
Wait – have you sworn the Hippocatric Oath?
Doctor, is that mole benign?
Tell me Doctor… are you feeling fine?
I’m an Execu-manage-chief-inator.
It’s my job to process-alize:
My lungs are the grocery store.
My spleen is at a premiere.
My colon is at therapy
(he’s got digestion related fears!)
My pancreas is pool side.
My liver’s skipping school.
My ears are at a coffee shop
reading poetry to my drool!
My gall bladder is down on Main street
(He’s dry cleaning all his shirts).
My stomach is picketing 24 hours:
“I’ll only take dessert!”
My throat is out of office
(he’s learning how to drive)
which just leaves my heart and me
…..and means I’m still alive!
Coo chi coo!!
Puppy will do!
Pencil loves eraser.
Swirls of lead love fill his tummy.
He’ll even face the sharpener
to get close to his gummy!