Monday, July 12, 2010

You make me feel like a prince
When you bring me stew with quince
But I know you’re only sweeter than honey
Because you’re after my money.
I’ll play along, I won’t run
Feeling like royalty is too much fun.
On this contract I’ll put my mark:
Keeping making me meals and our future won’t be stark.

World Cup Limerick #4

This tournament has been really neat
This Sunday two new teams will feel the heat
Fans will show appreciation
For the victorious nation
And target their jeers at the despicable team that was beat.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

This is the season for me to be Conan
A barbarian makin’ men moanin’.
All this street boxing keeps me on my feet lots,
I’ve dropped so much weight, I need new socks.
But to be plain with you,
I’d rather eat fried octopus
Roasted duck and battered asparagus,
Lettuce only with bacon and butter,
A mud-pie if it’s muddier.
I nominate
Goose liver for my plate.
At this point, I’ll panhandle for a love-handle.
My spare tire’s out of air.
It’s time for surf, turf ‘n earth
And to gorge without care.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

I’ll wade into the ring o’ stars
And wait for you to call me a constellation
As I join the reflected solar energy
Of the stars on a still lake.
Barring a heat wave
You hate to be my bud in the water.
You’ve always swapped places
And opted for dry land.
But drop me a low hand
From your dry upper deck
Sometime
And we will tango on the shoreline.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

The feelings I have for you should be illegal
I’m addicted to you
Like you’re a fry and I’m a seagull.
I will circle parking lots
And other birds will twitter
But for you I have the hots
Like a raccoon for litter.
You must give me heartburn
Because my heart burns for you
Like a bonfire in a cavern.
You’re my lantern
And when I’m with my girl
My vision’s swirled
Like it’s my turn
To be top of the world.

World Cup Limerick #3

The game was an up and down match
Especially for Paris who the authorities did snatch
She smoked some weed
And now she’s freed
So she’ll keep Cheech posted on her next batch.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

In the shady woods of Ory-gun
We’re gonna have some bluegrass
And we’re gonna have some fun.
The days are sunny and sometimes serene
The nights get rockin’
With fiddles sawed real mean.
It’s kinda a cult but more like a family
So git your banjo out, roll down the valley
And spy what you see.