A randy surfer from Malibu Crest
Untied the bikini top off of Celest
You’re my Betty let’s hang loose
As he tried for her caboose
She slapped his hand away from her breast
Aloha Barney and get off my turf
You’re a randy dude, who can’t even surf
Rico won’t tell you again
I bet you’ve never hung ten
She's not your Betty, uncool of you Murph
Categories:
murph, humorous,
Form: Limerick
The Magic Of Dusky Meadows.
Way down in Dusky Meadow, a small woodland on the edge of town.
Where all the woodland critters would gather for miles around.
There were rabbits, hares and hedgehogs, badgers and bull frog toads
birds of many species and insects by the loads.
They call it Dusky Meadows as the sun rays through the trees cascade,
to form the magic shadows of splendid rainbows.
Where colours made, of pinks and blues and palest greens and yellows
are displayed.
As Murph the funniest Goblin begins his big parade.
And all the critters gathered, settle down to enjoy Murph's little show.
All gathered in the core of Dusky Meadows where the prettiest flowers grow.
So Murph our little Goblin entertains with his magic so profound
then as night time falls and brown owl calls,
they all vanish underground.
Categories:
murph, animal, children,
Form: Rhyme
Sweet morning sunshine --
Damn you how I
despise this labor
that lies ahead.
The cousin of Grizzly Adams’
patiently waits with the
ancient white pickup truck
he ran me over with while I slept.
Off we go with the toolbox
dancing in the bed and it’s a band
of pots and pans, the opening act for
our weapons of mass construction.
Murph says he’s a team player,
although I don’t recall a sport
consisted of getting wasted
and having shameful sex.
He grumbles and curses about
the day ahead hung-over with
his perfume from the distillery and
gum he must’ve marinated in an ashtray.
We better do some stretching
before the circus begins—
watch me as I carry an elephant
up the twenty year old ladder.
From two stories above I witness
the war forming between
old rusty nails and the tiny,
soft green blades that stand no match.
The ground has become a grave
of tetanus but the old umbrellas
we toss down from the house
cover up the battlefield.
(To Be Continued)...
Categories:
murph, work,
Form: Free verse
My dog Murph is what I call him sometimes,
he answers to Murphy or Murph.
He is so set in his ways, whenever he
wants something, he comes over to me
and stares at me,then he paws me on
the hand or arm, if that fells,he sits
up on his rump.
Always I say no, or wait I'm busy, it
matters not to him in anyway.
I always give in to him, and let him
have what he wants, because he is my
best friend.
And that's what best friends
are for.
wrote 4-16-07
Categories:
murph, pets
Form: Free verse