The Bathroom Scales
By Elton Camp
There they are, just daring us to step on
And see which way our weight has gone
The bathroom mirror shows the sad fact
But the authority of a read-out it does lack
And while in there we are entirely out of luck
Ten pounds for clothing cannot try to deduct
But we can still imagine there’s some defect
That what the scales say is not really correct
Finally we step on, dreading how they may read
And, sure enough, it isn’t what we hope or need
So, we resolve that much harder we will try it
And this time we will carefully follow our diet
But until we have enough time to lose some weight
It’s better to put the scales in the garage in a crate
I have so many jeans that I can wear.
They lie inside a box upon my floor;
in every color there I have a pair.
With pants galore, I could not want for more!
I don't take time to sift through all those clothes
when I am in a rush and getting dressed.
Nor do I have the time to stand and pose
before my mirror to see which looks the best.
The "Zanadi," flare-legged, and faded blue
I grab with very little hesitation.
From Asia, straight to Walmart, ( and it's true)
they always fit (Oh, joy, less complication).
And when those darn things feel a bit too tight,
I diet till they hug my hips just right!
By Andrea Dietrich
For Nette onclaud's Contest:
"It's In The Jeans"
I got a part-time job
of which i"m very fond.
It is down at the South Inch
at the local boating pond.
I help to sell the tickets
and call out when they"re done,
and in this sunny weather
it really is quite fun.
There are fifteen rowing boats
and paddlers if you must,
but there are no sailing dinghy"s
the wind here does not gust.
The job it needs attention,
you have a pen and book.
To keep track of everybody,
and you have to look...
to see that all is well
and no one misbehaves.
The waters only three foot deep
but their life you"d have to save.
But on one Saturday,
the pond was really busy
so much going on
my head was really dizzy.
I looked into my book.
What is a man to do.
I could not hurry time
there will always be a queue.
"Number six your time is up"
I called with little choice.
Then looked across the water
as they ignored my voice.
"Number six,"I faintly croaked,
"are you doing fine?"
and then the penny dropped
"In trouble number nine?"
When trying to understand women
Mr. Spock is my role model
An eyebrow raised in curiosity
Just waiting to hear something illogical (i choose poorly with women :)
But even Mr. Spock
Sometimes gets a wild hair
Like that time he breathed those spores
Then smelling something else in the air
His hair as black as coal
His blue shirt calmly reassuring
But there was definitely something odd
About the way his ears were pointing
Casting aside the advice of friends
Letting a flower’s scent cock his head
But when he started acting like Tom Jones
It caused a state of dread
Fist pumps into the air
Busting a move to ‘Lady’s Night’
Even a hound like Kirk was appalled
When Spock thought he was Napoleon Dynamite
Say What?
As electrifying as a disco ball
Churning lights, sparkling gems
Like Marty Feldman on happy pills
Blurting out, “I’m in LOOOVE, Jim!!!”
So if a sweet smell hits my nose
I’ll remember I’m emotionally impaired
“A man has got to know his limitations”
And next time I’ll take a cold shower
Somebody please help me, I'm in great distress.
My wife is having her period and she has PMS.
One time she grabbed a television set and hit me in the head.
When I came out of my coma, I was amazed that I wasn't dead.
She goes on rampages and she screams and shouts.
I told her to shut up and she nearly scratched my eyes out.
This time of the month causes great stress.
Somebody please help me, she has PMS.
THE 12 ANNO-DUODECIMALISATION PERIODS
Wintric time is now slippopherous and the slithey snowlerimon
Is experiented with the newly-arrived vernality in the air.
His triple anno-duodecimalisation period is in terminfication
Which has megaramifications and blerious implifications bare
For the floracious and faunacious spread of life-and-growthicity
The next few anno-duodecimalisation periods will encertain
The success of the seminal vesicles of herbatorial and floribundial growthity
And the ground-coveration will soon be overspread with leavy-fruitain.
Treedonry, tall and gloribundant shall castigate their shadowsmith
Across meadowfields so mertile and bloductive. Soon the triple
Anno-duodecimalisation of the pre-wintric time will proviso us with
All the beautiflic and delicioned harverted produce from our farmliple:
Making us readified for the oncoming wintric time, a periodontary
Of slippopherous and slithey snowlerimon, coldpainly beyond comparicary.
There is one thing I have noticed recently.
Some of you do not know the meaning of “private property”.
If you attempt to encroach upon my land,
I will just have to act and take a stand.
My team of pit bulls has been trained to attack.
They will maul you whether you are white or black.
Each one of them has a voracious appetite.
They are always hungry, and are not afraid to bite.
I am a very good marksman. That is what many people say.
I can shoot a flea off a dog from a thousand yards away.
You are never safe no matter what your position.
My gun is ready and I have plenty of ammunition.
However, if my dogs don’t get you and my aim is bad,
you will be in for a time that will really be sad.
The police will be here any time of night or day.
They will arrest you and haul your ass away.
You had better pull some lucky cards in your game of rummy.
The last thing I have to say is, “GOOD LUCK DUMMY”.
It is easy to determine something is wrong.
I get that feeling each time I hear your song.
You admitted that you are but a fool.
You love Carol, but she treats you cruel.
There is a bit of faulty grammar I see.
You should say she “treats you cruelly”.
She hurts you, and she makes you cry.
However, if she leaves you, you will surely die.
Your song became a hit throughout the nation.
Neil, you are not in that bad of a situation.
It is about time you reassessed Carol’s worth.
She is not the only living woman on the earth.
The Marvelettes say, “There’s too many fish in the sea”.
Let go of Carol and get yourself free.
When I hear your lyrics, you sound a bit wussy.
There are plenty of other girls if you want some CENSORED.
Entertainer, songwriter, and recording artist Neil Sedaka has had a fabulous career
spanning over several decades. His fine work continues today.
Back in the day when the camera was new
people were thrilled with what they could do
To take a moment in time and save it forever
A completely marvelous thing to do –however
What moment in time should one chose to save
how many moments in time can one truly crave
some would save every moment if they could
if it didn’t cost so much or take all day they would
can’t save them all you can only save some
now the question of course is save which one
should it be- tell the truth
this one? the girl in big yellow hat.
or this one? with the fat crazy cat.
under compulsion you just never know
no big deal though it’s all just for show
sittin' on the back porch,
drinkin' gran'ma's brew;
lots of free time on my hands,
can't think of what to do
i wanna strip naked,
go lay out in the sun;
chiggers chompin' on my butt,
ain't my type of fun!
maybe i'll build a treehouse,
but i ain't got no wood;
it's too hot to break a sweat,
that won't do no good
perhaps i'll have a cookout,
but i ain't got no meat;
i can't go to the market,
although it's down the street!
i wanna write a poem,
but i ain't got no words;
i long for inspiration,
while countin' flies on turds!
maybe i'll sell my dog,
clean up this funky yard;
that would make me sad as hell,
goodbye is just too hard!
sittin' on the back porch,
drinkin' gran'ma's brew;
lots of free time on my hands,
can't think of what to do...
My neighbor raped my mule last night.
I decided that it was time for us to fight.
He talked tough but I wasn't going to take his sass.
I broke my twelve inch foot off in that pervert's ass.
When I kicked his ass today, I kicked it hard.
He didn't waste any time getting out of my yard.
My poor mule will be scarred for life.
I made a phone call to that pervert's wife.
She told me that she intends to get a divorce.
I locked my barn because I also own a horse.
If you own a mule, you should listen to what I tell you.
Hide it and hide it well because you know what he'll do.
(THIS IS A FICTIONAL POEM.)
It was time for our annual cookout
That's when my wife asked me please
"If you get the time and you don't mind,
Could I ask you to please cut the cheese?"
I have to admit I was puzzled
I couldn't imagine what she means
So that's when I went to the kitchen
And opened me up some beans
By the time I was finished
The people started to amass
My wife said, "It's time to get started,
Would you please pass the gas?"
So off I went to get some more beans
By now I was getting pretty full
Trying to figure out who would be first
To offer my finger to pull
By the time I got back it had started
But it ended in minutes to my shame
I burned down half of the city
I was standing too close to the flame
Fingers flying, forming fiction,
transcribing, typing diction.
Always in a mighty hurry,
No mistakes, just more worry.
I will, I wont, no time to wonder,
right or wrong cannot stop to ponder.
Kill them, sock them, pound harder.
Fingers to the bone, finger martyr.
Wish I may wish I might
type a nursery rhyme at home tonight.
Soup baby needs attention
Contests going, too much to mention.
What to do if I get a virus.
Finger scribe with a stylus?
Always something more is coming.
Overhead black cloud is looming.
Asleep, instead of restful slumber.
Count I my finger giganumber.
All night long instead of sheep
Ruin my REM, don’t get my sleep
Up at dawn no time to linger
Finger flexing limbers finger
In my car continue workout
For flaunting finger flying clout.
© Jun 02 2010 For Linda’s “Finger Frenzy” contest
Hey guys ,you remember when I suffered that pain
Of been called Mad and accused of been Insane?
I think I found this person, I may know who could it be
Yes! I caught the little sod, he was following me
All this time he’s been aping everything that I do
I told my lawyers and they are ready to sue
He wears the same clothes and drives the same car
He even told other people we have the same mother
I thought to myself, its time to reveal this person
But when I drew close to him the reality began to worsen.
We came eye to eye and he stared at me
Then said “Hi please to meet you I’m your split personality”
Kids flick paper airplanes
And goof around in class
But what can you expect?
The teacher won't get off her ass.
Such lovely etiquette
Our tax dollars at work
So please don't strain yourself
You inconsiderate jerk.
I speak as a student of this class
This very poem my example
And as you can clearly see
My free time is quite ample.
Instead of learning vocab
I'll write some pretty words
While I should be learning other things
Such as nouns, adjectives, and verbs.
But I've far excelled this
It's a waste of my time
I already find this form basic
Why am I still learning rhyme?
Because I am subject to my lazy teacher
Who fritters her time away
As one so elequently put it
"This class is so gay."
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