my waste basket reclines on a full stomach,
patting a grated belly
stretching over three course meals
of rotten ideas.
i ask myself why?
you've had your native tongue for,
how many years?
how many months?
how many days
of chatter and quip
could you have spun?
i count the minutes between pencil strokes,
between lines of order and my graphite mess.
i think the only long word i can properly spell is
Tantalized, but only because it's phonetic.
it's not that i don't want to write.
you could only dream of
how i dream of writing praise-worthy poems;
maybe one about a bird braving the storm,
or
how betrayal leaves the
bitter taste of coffee in the mouth.
but then i think of the galleries of poets
who have already written about small birds
or storms,
or both,
and how coffee really isn't that bitter.
and so
mind not made,
my paper stares at me
with blank expression, reflecting
the thick snowy fog
i'd like to think fills my head
instead of empty space.
the kind that clumps up
and trips over itself
like a hairball stuck in a cat's throat,
or a ball of tangled thread.
uncomfortably clinging like an itchy sweater.
To be safe is to cozy up with your past,
Like that old sweater you can’t throw away—a bit frayed, but a blast!
What you see is what you get—
A masterpiece of chaos, like a cat's hairball at your feet,
Born from the brilliant art of dodging responsibility,
And a grand delusion that mistakes are just "creative beats.”
To love is to pretend you care, oh dear,
For something outside yourself—like that plant you forgot to water, I fear.
Yes, most religions have turned this into a thriving market,
Selling “selflessness” like it's the latest fashion—what a racket!
Stained with the colors of thought and wishful dreams,
Dulled by contemplating cultures—you know, the usual schemes.
And if you ponder long enough, who knows?
The future might just wink at you—but only if it shows!
But man—oh, what man dares to take a peek,
At his own quirky quirks, his blunders, and, let’s face it, his cheek?
He is king at heart, ruling with a laugh,
In this comedy of life, where we all play our part—just look at the staff!
why would she do such a thing
right in the middle of the most
important party you'd ever thrown
a party that would make or break
your career your way of life for as
far as you could possibly peer into
the future my god doesn't she
know that staging is everything
and timing has gone the way of
the blackberry so ok get a grip
she went ahead and she did it
she threw up a hairball she's a
cat for crying out loud what do
you expect when you give her
red wine with fish
[The Candyman]
Who can take a hairball?
Blame it on the cat
Flush it down the tank
And you laugh a lot for that
It’s the handyman
Yes, it's the handyman
The handyman can
‘Cause you pay him for the laugh
When the laugh is on you
Yes, the laugh is on you
‘Cause he took you for a fool
And he’s not done yet
(No, he’s not done yet!)
The handyman makes
Everything he breaks
Work again for just a minute
It’s your money-did he win it
Only when you hear him spin it
Now you got a problem
Who you gonna call?
Your handyman is gone
‘Til the late, late fall
But he’s your handyman
Yes, he's your handyman
And your handyman can
If you bought the monthly plan
And your boa gets loose
When your boa gets loose
Then your cat disappears
And the hairballs stop
(So the skids run dry)
Now, you can laugh again
Yes, you can laugh again
Give the man a hug
For a slime-free rug
'Cause he's your handyman.
If I had a hairball
It would be no wonder
Since I lick and lick and lick all day
All day long, I’m lickin’ on my paws
I am in a hairy way!
If I had a hairball
I would gag and cough
And gag and cough and gag and cough some more
You all know the lovely sounds I make
Leaving you a present on the floor!
Humphry Dumphry sat in the hall
Eating a hamburger and things that crawl
A silly old kook
Wearing a tuque
Wee Humphry choking on a dirty big hairball
Okay here comes slap happy pappy, at your beck and call
For parties, conventions, or entertaining at the mall
Just set up a booth
Blacken a tooth
And bring down the house, pretending to have a hairball
To be honest, I'm a sweet loving soul
Haven't lied to you since being granted parole
For beating an old lady
She was about eighty
Falsies fell out, and she choked on a hairball>center>
Lurking in fuzzy leftovers is seen
A quivering, crawling hairball of green
A florescent prune
Or cheese from the moon
Gurgles gastric, plastic alien spleen
The miser squire requires gluts of caffeine
To dissect this science project's gangrene
Harpoon on a spoon
Zoom to the saloon
Lunch ladies' supreme mystery cuisine.
3/15/19
For Green Humor contest
Sponsor: Carolyn Devonshire
The Cat Drank My Beer
The Cat drank my beer
I left in a cup.
Actually she used her tongue
to lick it all up.
I remember thinking,
this does not bode well
for the cat or the beer.
This feline had to drive home
and she didn’t live near.
I could see she was
in no condition to drive.
By the time I stopped her,
she had already drank five.
She slurred her purrs,
licking everyone around.
She threw a hairball at a beagle
and pinned a pit-bull to the ground.
She meows she hates you
and think you’re a rat.
Then starts crying, asking:
“does this fur make me look fat?”
She rants and raves
as those with drink tend to do.
Then starts singing Streisand
albeit a little off tune.
I mix catnip and Friskees
for a little pick me up.
She takes one lick
and passes out in her cup.
I now know that cats
have a problem with beer.
One sip or lick drops
them on their rear.
8/22/18
Cat
Kitty
Licking now
Hairball. Hairball.
Move Yourself Quickly
Foul thing comes out.
Disgusting
Hairball.
Cat
Okay here comes slap happy pappy, at your beck and call
For parties, conventions, or entertaining at the mall
Just set up a booth
Blacken a tooth
And bring down the house, pretending to have a hairball
Humphry Dumphry sat in the hall
Eating a hamburger and things that crawl
A silly old kook
Wearing a tuque
Wee Humphry choking on a dirty big hairball
My furry friend coughed up a big hairball,
she coughed so hard the darn thing hit the wall,
so while I cleaned up the mess,
wasn't too happy I confess...
but it does beat the backside waterfall.
Who I Seek
When O'Henry our cat is one who I seek
We can always tell by his variable squeak
Which he does instead of going meow
Thought of it himself from out of the blue.
Now O'Henry when we are often seeking
Look forward to hearing his horrible squeaking
Likes licking body so off things won't fall
That turn out becoming a big hairball.
Is always highly attentive as he nears
Seeing his stuck up and pointed ears
Wiggle back and forth in every direction
Can cats actually have a lose connection?
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran
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