Category Archives: poem

Friday Foolishness II (It Is a Great Time to be a Republican)

Image from

We got control of da Gubba-mint, Wuss…

To get anyting ya gotta go tru us.

Don Don Trumpatini is now in charge,

And only he can say what tings is large.

Da judges is all appointed by da Don.

So what’s legal is up ta him.

Don Don Trumpatini, I mean,

Can kill ya on any ol’ whim.

If youse sez he can’t do jest any old ting,

And get away wit it under the law,

Then ol’ Capo Bill Barr will bring on de dogs,

And dey will be eating ya raw.

picture courtesy of the Daily Beast

And don’t tink of not payin’ yer taxes,

Like all of da rich people do,

Cuz they has da money fer axes,

And can chop up especially you.

“De Dems tink dat dey can remove me,” says Don.

“Jes cuz I’ve committed some crimes.

“But as Prexy, I’ve made de crimes legal.

“So, Stoopid, youse get wit da times.”

And Moscow Mitch has his big ol’ back-side,

And Kanye is in his dark corner.

So dat leaves yas with no place to hide.

Cuz Hells’ gettin’ whole lots o’ warmer.

Leave a comment

Filed under angry rant, foolishness, humor, pessimism, poem, politics, satire


You are a wonderful person,

And this is my message to you,

Whether or not you believe it,

I want you to know this is true.

All people in their own way are special,

And you are the very best you.

Leave a comment

Filed under announcement, healing, poem

A Frosty Full Moon in a Pink Dawn Sky

Under the Full Moon

The air is cold in the age of old.

We’re no longer brave, in the moonlight wave.

Day has ended, night impended,

And darkest dawn looms for the faun.

We cannot wake with a sudden shake.

Our sacred lore responds no more.

Silence abounds on the frosty ground.

And the final score has left us poor.

A more reasonable paragraph;

I am not, at this writing, feeling very spry anymore. I substituted for an ESL teacher in Irving yesterday. I enjoyed it. But the frosty cold weather took its toll on me, as did the misbehavior of clownish 11th graders. I am left exhausted, and thoroughly convinced that huge high school classes averaging thirty kids in them are not something I am well enough to deal with anymore. I probably need to decide against taking any future high school sub jobs. They make me deathly tired and inspire creepy poetry about mortality in me. Anyway, it caused me to do some picture-making, and some silly poetical complaining.


Filed under commentary, Paffooney, poem


On the mantel

Of our home hearth

Sit the objects

That give life worth

A candle lighting

The dark of earth

A cup once painted

With paint and mirth

A Snoopy plaque

Announcing birth

And ceramic doll

Smiling o’er the hearth.

1 Comment

Filed under artwork, Paffooney, poem, poetry

Sometimes When You’re Down, You Simply Need a Clown.

You’re basic clown knows how,

To turn your down to up.

And give your heart a wow,

To completely fill your cup.

But even clowns have rules,

And buttons that you push,

To make them act like fools,

And fool you in a rush.

And when you need a clown,

For smiles and laughs and things,

Because you’re really down,

And clown paint really zings.

But not all clowns are happy,

And neither should they be,

‘Cause life can be real slappy

And sticky, slapping me.

Thanks for all the random sources providing gifs of clowns.

So, when you need a clown,

To pick you up instead of down,

You should pick one fast and brown,

For a clown now rules the town.


Filed under clowns, collage, goofy thoughts, happiness, healing, humor, poem, poetry, strange and wonderful ideas about life, surrealism

Today It Is Raining…

Today it is raining in Texas…

It is hard to write when your fingers hurt…

It is hard to play in the rain…

Unless you have totally drip-dry play clothes…

The way nudists do…

And a warm coati mundi to warm your tummy…

But I don’t have those things…

Not anymore…

So, it is hard to play in the rain…

And, it is hard to write when your fingers hurt…

And today it is raining in Texas.

Leave a comment

Filed under Paffooney, poem, poetry

King of the Jungle

Be careful of this tiger kitty

He rules with an iron paw

And every rat and egg and bird

Can end up in his maw

He pees where he likes

And buries poo in your garden

And sings to the moon off-key every night

And never begs of you pardon

Leave a comment

Filed under artwork, humor, Paffooney, poem