I’m packing my jeans and my underwear too;
I’ve found a ship bound for the sea
For if my mom and dad read what I wrote on the wall
It’s going to be curtains for me
It is a word
It seemed harmless at first
It has only four letters in all, I did it in pencil
It’s not very dark; it’s so nice and neat
And really quite small
But best to be safe,
I’d better be off to sail to those far distant lands
For my one little word
It’s the kind of word that will grow hair in the palms of your hands
So it’s me to the window and down to the yard
And away I go over the hill
Of course I could just turn my pencil around and erase it
All right then I Will!!
I’m packing my jeans and my underwear too;
An Irish pub, the place to be,
For a couple drinks just you and me,
Oh please! One more round oh kind sir,
A little more I’ll be drunk for sure,
Later my head begins to spin,
With thoughts of puking, where’s the trash bin,
I remain to gander a line,
At that fine honey, man she is fine,
She wasn’t refusing my charm,
I told her that I meant her no harm,
Looking so good I couldn’t preach,
I bought her a drink, sex on the beach,
One drink brought two, two became three,
Hormones were flying high, we were free,
Left the bar in quite a hurry,
Got in the car no need to worry,
Took her back to my pimpin pad,
Woke up late, believe me it was bad,
Don’t go out to drink and party,
You may wake up with a guy named Marty!
My life is in a whirl
all because of one girl
that i can’t get out of my head.
I toss and turn left to right
I think about her every night
sacraficing the comfort of my bed.
Maybe I would have just one chance
only if I had some stylin’ pants
that were any other color than red.
Sadly, the only time she ever talked to me
was when I asked her out in geometry
and she snarled, Sorry, but you’re a redhead!
That’s when I wished my hair was black.
So here it is,
The happy one.
Today I’ll have a bit of fun.
My opus and my symphony.
A delectable, delightful treat.
A candy, oh, a wicked sweet.
Delightfully out of control.
So here you go.
My trip through miles and miles of snow.
Hold on tight.
Don’t try to fight.
My happy poem,
Just drips delight
Like honey from a child’s tongue,
Or whispers of the aging young.
A lullaby that makes you cry,
The tears of happy years gone by.
Watch your step,
The path is steep,
So take a breath before you leap
Into a world of endless bliss,
As charming as a baby’s kiss.
And right when you arrive right there,
You’ll never leave.
My haven in my merry verse.
It welcomes you,
With open arms.
You’re flattered by its mirthful charms.
So stay awhile.
Right in the shade
Of the happiest poem
I’ve ever made.
I come home in the evening, after working hard all day
I open up the mailbox, to see what I must pay.
I have a cup of coffee, a cigarette I light
There is a moment’s pleasure, before there is a fight.
The kids are in a frenzy, I can’t take it anymore
Your supper is in the oven, I am walking out the door.
I said no need to worry, there’s no reason you should pout
I didn’t want to hear it, just put my dinner out.
Well her voice got very quiet, and then she just got sore
The oven door came open; my food went on the floor.
The dishes weren’t broken, as they flew across the room
The dog ran to the basement, he sensed there would be doom.
My clothes came down the staircase, a little after nine
She was cleaning out the bedroom, with everything of mine.
The kids were watching TV, the volume was on high
They didn’t want to hear the screams, in case I had to die.
A chair went through the window, the neighbors went inside
Some went in to pray for me, the others went to hide.
The cops came round the corner; they knew just where to go
They pulled up on the driveway, and approached her very slow.
She stood there in the doorway, and asked where they had been
I was in the closet; I prayed they’d take her in.
After many years of marriage, and a will that was so strong
I learned there are times I’m not right, and then sometimes I’m wrong.
There’s a message in this story, which should be very clear
Listen very carefully, and you will have no fear.
A woman, who’s not angry, may love you every night
Just keep in mind these simple words, she is always right.
I hear it at night when I turn out the light it is the creature whose under my bed.
He won’t go away he is determined to stay but I wish he would beat it instead.
I told him to go, but he shook his head no.
He is worst than an unwelcome guest I gave him a nudge but he still wouldn’t budge.
It was hard to get rid of the [est.
So I fired one hundred round cannon balls plundered by pirate ships sailing the seas.
But he caught them barehanded and quickly grandstanded by juggling them as nice as you please.
That creature was slick
He was clever and quick.
This called for drastic maneuver.
So I lifted my spread and charged under my bed with the roar of my mothers new Hoover.
But he snorted his nose and sucked in the long hose , the canister, cord, and the plug, and vacuumed the dust till I thought he would bust. And blew it all over the rug.
Now this made me sore so I cried This is war! and sent a contingent of fleas, an army of ants dressed in camouflage pants followed closely by big killer bees.
He welcomed them with a sly grin and ate them with crackers and cheese.
I screamed that’s enough it is time to get tough .
You asked for it, Creature I said. As I picked up and threw with aim sure and true, my gym sneaker under the bed.
With each whiff of the sneaker the creature grew weaker. He staggered out gasping for air. He coughed, and sneezed, and collapsed with a wheeze and accused me of not playing fair.
Then holding his nose with his twelve hairy toes the creature curled up in a ball, rolled’ cross the floor smashing right through the door. I was rid of him once and for all.
The very next night as I turned out my light and was ready to lay down my head. I heard my kid brother shout out to my mother, Hey Ma there is something under my bed.
A few months ago, my debts were discharged;
My bankruptcy over, I was once more at large
To spend as I would, with no legal imbroglios,
My credit card debt had gone the way of the dodoes.
So I bought me a car, a two-thousand-two Sable;
To say what were the payments I’d be wholly unable.
I drove to Ohio, to Kentucky, then back
To old Indiana, where I raced on a track.
Before long the car was just rust on a frame;
But call it a car? Sure, but only in name.
Soon the repo man came, with his truck and his cable;
And pried from my grip the wheel of that Sable.
So I bought me a Nissan, I think an aught-three;
Which I drove and I drove until I met a tree.
It was a white maple, I now seem to recall;
Or was it the Nissan which I met with that wall?
No, into the wall I drove the Mitsubishi;
The diners were stunned, yet remained quite chi-chi.
Next my Isuzu slid over a cliff;
Just as I stopped to give someone a lift.
Good thing for me, I had just stepped out;
Yet I still wished that I had avoided that route.
So then what became of my ninety-nine Ford?
I think of it often, at least when I’m bored.
It was a nice one, with air foils and flames;
A genuine favorite of alla’ the dames.
All I remember’s the noise of the crash;
My recollection goes by in a flash.
I awoke in a bed, bandaged down to my toes;
The doctors called it luck that I retained those.
The car was a loss, you can take it from me;
A loss to the earth, ‘though a gain for the sea.
I also once lost an eighty-nine Chevy;
That sucker crashed, then plunged off of a levy.
I have much better luck with Chryslers and Dodges;
Even I can’t wreck those slamming into mirages.
But you can’t wreck a car on an illusory basis;
At least you must wait till you find an oasis.
So here I sit in the midst of the sand;
With nothing for miles but this dust-covered land.
Just me in this two-thousand-one Dodge SUV;
I don’t wanna wreck it; now how would that be?
I’ll sit here in the desert and just wait, alas;
It helps that I long ago ran out of gas.
I’ve been around the world.
I’ve observed the expansive Grand Canyon,
the towering Pyramids,
the lonely Eiffel Tower,
the exotic Rainforest,
and my own backyard.
I comfort and encourage you,
as I travel with you,
like a sole passenger,
that can not be forgotten.
I capture great, fantastic, magical, things,
and stockpile them deep within me.
I produce memories,
and hoard them,
just so you can hunt them out later.
I’ve been dropped,
and stroked with small, sticky, children’s fingers,
and nevertheless I do everything you ask.
And even if you misplace me on occasion,
when you unearth me,
you spend time with me.
I can erase your old memories,
even as you create new ones.
I am worn around your neck like the finest luxury jewels.
I am a
You walk into class and get in your seat,
But before you get there, you trip over your feet.
You’re trying to sit down without being the class clown,
Then you fall to the ground saying, ‘Who pushed me down?’
You try to erase the first moments of class,
So you get up to ask the teacher for a pass.
Going through class then to the computer room,
When the late bell rings you’ve got to use the bathroom.
You get to P.E and then to Math class,
Trying to go the bathroom but they won’t give you a pass.
You sit in your seat but can’t stand the heat,
As you get up you use the bathroom in your seat.
For the rest of the day you are gloomy and gray,
‘Cause you cannot believe what had happened that day.
You go home to tell your parents why you’re mad,
Then they laugh and say it isn’t all that bad.
You go to your room and cry the night away,
Then you wake and laugh at what happened that day.
Woke early one morning,
the earth lay cool and still,
when suddenly a tiny bird,
perched on my window sill,
it sang a song so lovely,
so carefree and so gay,
that slowly all my troubles,
began to slip away,
it sang of far off places,
of laughter and of fun,
it seemed his very song,
brought out the morning sun,
I pulled back the covers,
and crept slowly out of bed,
and gently shut the window,
and crushed his freaking head,
I’m not a morning person