Limerick Friday #31

There once was an inventor who was real bored
He assembled a white dress and thought he had scored
But he didn’t get his way
Because his monster didn’t stay
And he’s stuck tinkering with a broken down ford.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

You say I sing like Dylan
But I’m a little more tone deaf,
I don’t need a voice coach
I need a voice ref.

I serenade you by your window
As bystanders gawk
But I won’t resign my post
Even if the crowd will mock.

If you call the police
I’ll be booked
But if love is a crime
I’ll be a happy crook.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

I can’t help myself, I have a sweet tooth
And I’ll always rob you of your caramel.
I’ll become a pirate acting smooth,
If you hide candy at the end of a jetty.
You should always be on the ready
Because I’ll come from land and seas.
Currents guide me to ice cream,
And jelly beans make me weak in the knees.
You might say I love the thrill of adventure
But it’s the sugar high that gives me the speed I need.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Maybe on Tuesdays
I’ll just post doodles.
Or on slow news days
I’ll just sing carols.

Sometimes a muse will dry
Like tundra or a Midwest well.
But as long as I don’t watch TV
My symptoms won’t be fatal.

So now I’ll think of food
Like Swedish fish or Jimmy Dean.
If that doesn’t lift my mood,
I’ll think of my queen.

Monday, February 7, 2011

The emperor of ice cream ain’t shit.
I’m the marquis of M&Ms,
You could put me on a board
And I’d be a commercial sans words
Hawking Pepsi to the dead.

Who smeared Doritos crumbs
On Joan Rivers’ head?

Give black eyed peas to the bums
In bowls made of lead.

You could youtube this
But it won’t be simulated.
You could give a man a belt
But that won’t mean he’s stimulated.

Ultimately our anthem is a ransom,
Our debt is to be handsome
But each year we get uglier
And then some.

Limerick Friday #30

There once was a femme who was dragged through the street
A parade had been planned but she couldn’t keep to her feet
She sprouted a wing
And heard the crowd sing
You can stop her but she’ll never be beat

Thursday, February 3, 2011

I’ve been searching for ways
To manage my waste.
I don’t want to create a scene
I want to do it with taste.

Maybe I’ll take it to an island
And color the shores green and yellow,
It might trigger a native revolt
But I’d hope the hippies would be mellow.

If I run out of room
Anytime soon
I’ll just shoot it to the moon
And be back to tango by noon.

Then if the earth rises a degree
You won’t be able to place the blame on me.