on marriage

We are two
beef lovers



Today is happening again today.
Don't know if you noticed that.
Tomorrow expired yesterday;
It's a mythical creature in fact.
My face has a new wrinkle,
My brain a new fold,
My eye one less twinkle,
And my hand lost that hand to hold.
The moon, though slight tonight,
Is really quite full.
The ground, though chilled with frost,
Is boiling hot below.
This day may bring a change:
A real transformation.
But today has a single job:
The soul's education.


Robot Fodder

To our vigilant viewers, 
Who visit so frequently.
With digital eyes scanning 
our rhymes quite delinquently,
Unmoved and indisposed to relate to anything.
A digital creature eating digital data
Analogue minds crunching binary mana. 
We love you,
You insensitive, sterile, unlovable things. 
You without form, heart and brains.
It seems you've got the best taste.
So we'll see you again in 2-3 days.


Celebrate Peanuts

Celebrate peanuts
You young & you old
In the summer's high heat or the dead winter cold
Peanuts scrunch scrumptiously
Whether sacchariferous or salty
Says Theophrastus the elephant "They are anything but paltry"
You may eat peanuts anywhere, at carnivals, with cake
If a bit eccentric, then with Larda the snake
You may use peanuts in place of rice at a wedding
If a bit screwy, in place of mattress as bedding
Search the heavens above
And from sky to the sea
There is simply no place
Where peanuts ought not to be


May Mary Mabelle

I just saw this bit of something in my desk, and though, wow, either I was crazy when I wrote this or... !

My name is May Mary Mabelle
I was sired in a Saddlebred stable
I wash chamber pots and brocolli tops
and sup alone at the table
When I was a girl of three or of four
the height of a sapling Maple,
I saw my mom die, writher and wryth
now they say I'm mentally unstable
My heart's a sore and the world's a bore
so I drink ale whenever I'm able
they say if I wed it'd clear up my head
but it's lofty and false as a fable
for no man would marry what no man can carry
a miss who still sleeps in a cradle.


the Pied Piper picked a peck of pickled poems

Go forth young cosmonauts,
explore the wilds of witty thoughts.
Write at work if you dare,
or on your couch in underwear.
Just be sure that you do and post it on the blog too.