Only in Cali

There once was a man from the valley
Who had a girlfriend known as Sally
Though he wasn’t hot
She liked him a lot
He knew how to dilly her dally


She’s scary stupid

I want my Sweetie Pea
To come sit next to me
And watch our AGT
We like Nick and Heidi
And Howard and Howie
But we don’t like Mel B
She has a nice booty
But as dense as a tree


Damn you Marvel Studios!

Speculation is now gone
James Spader will play Ultron
In comics he’s built by Pym
But the movie won’t have him
So there goes my costume plan
I cannot go as Ant-Man


It was 50 years ago today

I also have a dream
That shouldn’t be extreme
We should live together
As sister and brother
In the South and the North
In peace from this day forth

Yo también tengo un sueño
Mi deseo no es pequeño


Why is it a handbasket?

What’s the criteria
For war with Syria?
Are chemical attacks
The motivating facts?
Odom’s habit’s well known
Nerds wait for new iPhone
Microsoft needs new head
Neil Armstrong is still dead
As Yosemite burns
Our ill-fated world turns


Remember when they played videos?

Questions raised at the VMAs
Does Taylor Swift deserve the praise?
Did Lady Gaga’s costumes flop?
Is Timberlake new King of Pop?
Who knew N’Sync was still working?
Why the heck was Miley twerking?


A Cornish bumblebee

An August Midnight
By Thomas Hardy

A shaded lamp and a waving blind,
And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:
On this scene enter–winged, horned, and spined –
A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore;
While ‘mid my page there idly stands
A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands . . .

Thus meet we five, in this still place,
At this point of time, at this point in space.
– My guests parade my new-penned ink,
Or bang at the lamp-glass, whirl, and sink.
“God’s humblest, they!” I muse. Yet why?
They know Earth-secrets that know not I.


Supes is fab!

There once was a baby from Krypton
Who grew up and was know for his brawn
He and Lex Luthor
Were always at war
Over who looked the best in chiffon


Jersey Girl wasn’t that bad

Never known for having priorities straight
Comic book geeks are unreasonably irate
Keeping in mind we dropped the bomb on Japan
The worst thing ever is Affleck as Batman
It’s hard to argue when the heads aren’t level
“He sucked in Gigli. He sucked as Daredevil”
Is it really his fault that those movies failed?
“Yes! Get a cross and make sure his hands are nailed!”
He’s no Brando, but I liked him in “Mallrats”
So, throw down the pitchforks and let go the bats
Your quarrel is as moot as this is bizarre
Peter Dinklage Hula Hooped at a gay bar


Hurry up haiku

Cruising through the day
Forgetting that one chore, so
You do it quickly


To the victor…

Here’s a Spoiler Alert!
People hate when you blurt
Last night’s secret ending
You found so heartrending
DVR and TiVo
Changed when we watch our show
So if someone is killed
Don’t be the one who spilled


It’s easy to draw naked stick figures

Has True Blood finally jumped the shark?
Vampires played volleyball in a park
A faerie vampire tried to marry
Jason’s girlfriend is hot but scary
Warlow is staked, and it’s quite gruesome
Alcide and Sookie are a twosome
Infected vampires look barbaric
They better not have killed off Eric!


Road to know where

Yesterday, we decided to roam
No shortcuts; we took the long way home
Cutting north, we journeyed through Ojai
Climbing mountains where the brush was dry
Across the 166 we flew
Passing both Cuyamas – old and new
Some people’s nerves would be unraveled
But we enjoy the roads less traveled


A ship arriving too late to save a drowning Walt Whitman

O Captain! My Captain!
By Walt Whitman

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.


Highway 101 haiku

Fields of grapes and grass
Fly by the window until
The valley of smog


Eff Scott Key

There once was a man from Baltimore
Who went out one night looking to score
He saw quite a fight
By dawn’s early light
Better action than he could hope for


Takeshi still has them Beat

One of our guilty pleasures is Wipeout
We love all the slips, trips, smashes and falls
They splash in the water like spawning trout
And bounce as far as they can on Big Balls


Ode on a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup

Of cups made from peanut butter
There are none better than Reese’s
Folks can claim that I’m a nutter
But I even like their pieces
If the pleated cups aren’t enough
Valentine’s day brings Reese’s hearts
Christmas means peanut butter trees
So sweet and salty, that’s the stuff!
They come in two convenient parts
One for now and then a reprise


Maybe shaming will work

I saw it once, I thought it was a fluke
It happened again, and I want to puke
There’s a Paper towel in the urinal
Might be common at a bus terminal
But it’s gross when it’s at your place of work
Whoever is doing it is a jerk


I drink your milkshake!

Ever had a headache
Where it feels like a snake
Is taking his lunch break
Drinking a brain milkshake
With a frontal lobe cake?
That’s what keeps me awake


My hats are my proems

To My Wife – With A Copy Of My Poems
By Oscar Wilde

I can write no stately proem
As a prelude to my lay;
From a poet to a poem
I would dare to say.

For if of these fallen petals
One to you seem fair,
Love will waft it till it settles
On your hair.

And when wind and winter harden
All the loveless land,
It will whisper of the garden,
You will understand.


You’ll never whack alone

There once was a man from Liverpool
Who was real handy with his large tool
In his tiny shack
He gave a nice whack
To any lass who wasn’t a fool


I think I’ll eat a torte

My knee had a huge wart
Its existence cut short
Because of the bump’s size
Which led to its demise
Today it got chopped off
Now there’s a bloody trough
I’m hirsute like an ape
Hairs were lost in the scrape
Goodbye dear friend goodbye
Where do warts go to die?


Get down make love

I really miss Queen
You know what I mean?
Brian May’s smart licks
Roger Taylor’s sticks
Deacon was steady
Damn, I miss Freddie


High hopes haiku

Five little numbers
And an extra Powerball
Make your wallet fat


I don’t think, I know

Believing you will win
A lottery jackpot
Might give you a big grin
But you’re just a crackpot


Pretty sure it’s just gross

Identifying roadkill
Is a very unique skill
Was that black clump a wild boar
Coyote, badger, deer or
Something more mundane than that?
Could that once have been a cat?


Linc curses those with flight

The Cat With Wings
By Robert William Service

You never saw a cat with wings,
I’ll bet a dollar — well, I did;
‘Twas one of those fantastic things
One runs across in old Madrid.
A walloping big tom it was,
(Maybe of the Angora line),
With silken ears and velvet paws,
And silver hair, superbly fine.

It sprawled upon a crimson mat,
Yet though crowds came to gaze on it,
It was a supercilious cat,
And didn’t seem to mind a bit.
It looked at us with dim disdain,
And indolently seemed to sigh:
“There’s not another cat in Spain
One half so marvelous as I.”

Its owner gently stroked its head,
And tickled it with fingers light.
“Ah no, it cannot fly,” he said;
“But see – it has the wings all right.”
Then tenderly from off its back
He raised, despite its feline fears,
Appendages that seemed to lack
Vitality – like rabbit’s ears.

And then the vision that I had
Of Tabbie soaring through the night,
Quick vanished, and I felt so sad
For that poor pussy’s piteous plight.
For though frustration has it stings,
Its mockeries in Hope’s despite,
The hell of hells is to have wings
Yet be denied the bliss of flight.


More death ahead?

Another bird is dead
The sparrow had no head
Looks like Linc may have fed
Wings broken; feathers shred
The crime scene stained in red
The poor thing really bled
I wonder if it pled
Or attacked back instead
The room is filled with dread
While Linc sleeps in his bed


High ku

Green leaves of the plant
Help get you through the work day
Now it’s 4:20!


James, we were always friends

It’s seven years ago today
My younger brother passed away
James was handsome, funny, and gay
He liked guys, he was born that way
He wasn’t flaming or cliché
But if he was, that’s still okay
Charming was in his DNA
And so witty, his jokes would slay
Often in pain, he would allay
It with a movie or a play
Or hosting friends with a soirée
But James is gone, and here I stay
While sipping on a chardonnay
I think about him everyday

WP Twitter Auto Publish Powered By : XYZScripts.com