I Let My Dog Write This Poem
Smell that? Definitely Cat poop.
I love that smell.
And what’s that smell over there?
I mean right there!
Quit pulling on my leash! I have to smell it!
Ahh! Bird poop from a pigeon with a fatal disease.
And over there! Yes, stop holding me back!
Oh! A dead bird! Yum! Icky dead things taste great!
But it was a pigeon.
MMM-woof? Can dogs get pigeon diseases?
Why on Earth Did I Turn into a Nudist?
It is so embarrassing to admit it
I have no clothes to fit it
That feel as good as going bare
And wearing not even underwear
And the wind and the sun on my naked skin
Open my heart and let the sunshine in
I’ve never really felt so alive
As I feel while talking the naturist jive
And living life as a naked man
And doing the things that Adam can
How can it be such a stupid thing?
That makes my heart to dance and sing?
Thar Be Pirates, Yaaar!
The Pirates o’ Bank o’ Merricka has stabbed me wallet
And make thar monies by stealin’
And whooda thunk it? But the Pirates be many blokes
Who sells insurance or credick-card akkounts
And compounds the fie!-nance charges
At twelvety-hunnert thousing per cent
And makes thar monies the ol’ fashioned way
By hooks and by crooks but mosty by stealin’
And so… There you have it. Three poems about things that recently made sanity a bit harder to define when looking in the old mirror. I am not saying I have gone insane, but I do think I may be on the right road to go over the hill and around a couple curves to find the place where you have to go to find it.