She has a very tight calendar

Mother’s day is March or May
Depending where you are
Then in June it’s Father’s day
Now isn’t that bizarre?
Calendars have men second
It’s usually reversed
It’s about time I reckon
That moms get to come first


Cardboard conundrum

Solving puzzles can be risky
When you’re drinking wine or whiskey
The small pieces will stop fitting
And in time you’ll end up quitting
Cardboard corners will start bending
And you’ll never see the ending
If it’s cab sav that you guzzle
Do not start a jigsaw puzzle


Got a ticket to my destination

My visit was fun
But now it is done
I had a great time
But not a long time
I’ll be back again
But I don’t know when


Time capsule thoughts

If you can read this, in 100 years
Of course I felt pain and spilled many tears
But I also loved, I laughed and I played
I’ll never forget the life that I made
In 100 years, I hope that you’ll be
Surrounded by friends and happy like me


Always on – never off

No rest for the wicked
That’s true for this dickhead
Since I am my own boss
I do not gather moss
While some have night-time fun
My work is never done


Hang the TP

It’s time to change the toilet roll
And time to take a little poll
So, do you hang it from the front?
Or do you hang it like a cunt?


I got you babe

It’s February
Day two of the shortest month
It’ll be March soon!


I even checked my butthole

I have a thing I cannot find
I think I’ve gone and lost my mind
There was a time I had it here
But it’s been gone at least a year
I’ve checked the closets and the drawers
I’ve checked the ceilings and the floors
My mind is not inside my head
Nor is it hiding ‘neath the bed
I’ve looked outside and under there
I just made you say underwear
I’ve searched around the potted plants
And in the pockets of my pants
My Irish friends just laughed I swear
‘Cause pants to them mean underwear
I really hope it’s just misplaced
A mind’s an awful thing to waste
But if it’s gone, I will be fine
As long as one thing’s always mine
I must keep it at any cost
My sense of humor can’t be lost


A yank’s thanks

I’m often asked, since I’m away
How do I spend Thanksgiving Day?
I do not have a big turkey
No stuffing, yams nor cranberry
I do not have my family here
No football games to watch and cheer
I kind of think, most displaced yanks
Just look around and give their thanks
That’s not to say I do not miss
A feast worthy of a chef’s kiss
Or seeing mom or Tom or dad
Of course those things do make me sad
But this is where my feet did roam
I’m in my new forever home
Although it’s far from you to me
I’m just right where I want to be


It came home!

The Trojans put up 33
The Bruins dropped a 62
Another year for Chip Kelly
The bell is back, it’s gold and blue


Meow? Me ow!

“Meow, meow!” Linc yells at me
He interrupts my morning tea
“Meow, meow!” He cries for lunch
I give him something he can munch
“Meow, meow!” It’s dinner time
An empty bowl my heinous crime
“Meow, meow!” It’s time for bed
This feckin’ cat is in my head
“Meow, meow!” His constant cry
He screams at me until I die…


Curable curse

The Mayo lads have lost again
Some say it is a curse
The crime committed by those men?
Not stopping for a hearse
In ’51 the jinx was cast
And only one remains
The rest are gone, he is the last
To rid Mayo of pains
But Dr. Mick is not to blame
For chances that were missed
Next year they’ll need to work on aim
And then Sam will be kissed


Wish you were here

It’s time to celebrate your birth
A trip around the sun from Earth
It’s time for posts from friends and kin
And getting drunk with bathtub gin
I hope you get to raise some hell
And barring that, I hope it’s swell
So lift your glass and give a cheer
You’ve made it through another year!


Mayo for Sam!

The folks in Mayo have the reek
Some people climb it every week
They pray to god and kill a lamb
“This year we want Mayo for Sam!
Mayo for Sam, Mayo for Sam
Let’s beat Tyrone – Mayo for Sam!”

Sligo and Leitrim both were beat
The tribesmen soon met their defeat
They told those Dublin lads to scram
“This year we want Mayo for Sam!
Mayo for Sam, Mayo for Sam
Let’s beat Tyrone – Mayo for Sam!”

In Westport there is red and green
The likes of which are rarely seen
Though Galway might not give a damn
“This year we want Mayo for Sam!
Mayo for Sam, Mayo for Sam
Let’s beat Tyrone – Mayo for Sam!”

It’s been a long time since they’ve won
The last time – 1951
They’ll prove the curse was just a sham
“This year we want Mayo for Sam!
Mayo for Sam, Mayo for Sam
Let’s beat Tyrone – Mayo for Sam!”


Late night – late light

Not to worry yet
The days are getting shorter
But it’s light at 10


Nap lap trap

Linc nestles into my lap
Just so he can take a nap
As the hours fly on by
I might be stuck here till July


Even my darkest night

It’s nice when a friend reaches out
No matter what it is about
A message, a card or a call
No matter how big or how small
Each time that it happens I grin
No matter how long it has been
They took the time to call or send
It matters that they are my friend


At the Y I’ll dine

It’s almost nine
I’m out of wine
These guys are mine
I’m feeling fine


It’s 8:01

There’s one thing that I really hate
It’s when something is really late
I will admit my nasty trait
Does not one bit make me look great
When not on time, I get irate
My mouth will froth, my hips gyrate
It puts me in a wretched state
So mad that I expectorate
I’ll get all tense and flatulate
And through the roof goes my heart rate
Where is my food? I cannot wait!
They said that they’d be here by eight!


Burnt Bingo

Jumped by fire elemental
And their treatment wasn’t gentle
Hours later, clothes still smolder
Makes me yearn for a beholder


C u next time

If we want to stay alive
It’s six more weeks of level five
But we know that selfish pricks
Will make us go to level six
All because they would not wear
A mask to shield their viral air
Level six is dig your grave
Thanks to the cunts that won’t behave



It’s time for your annual partay
I wish I could be at your soirée
To prove that I care
This rhyme that is rare
Is only for you on your birthday


Wanna tap me?

Took a shower
For an hour
Had to scour
With my power
Now I’m neater
Than St. Peter
And I’m sweeter
By the liter


The more you know

Here’s a helpful tip
If you have work due at nine
Don’t drink before eight


No time to defecate

Tonight I’m working late
But I am not irate
When people think I’m great
It puts food on my plate


420 is good for many reasons

Two years a cat
Imagine that
I’m hoping for
Fifty-two more


Feel the city breakin’

My kitchen doubles as a pub
My bathroom a salon
My dining room’s a country club
That looks out on my lawn
My bedroom is an office now
My living room a gym
It barely matters anyhow
When everything’s so grim
I used to work from nine to five
To properly provide
But now I work to stay alive
By staying put inside


Just one more thing…

When I hit a groove, I work really great
But I don’t begin until it’s too late
I’m doing my best to get going soon
But I find it hard to start before noon
Despite this slight hitch, I still have my pride
So I will push these distractions aside
My pets are downstairs, I’ve locked up the boys
I’ve tidied my space, I’ve muted the noise
I know I’ll do well, I’ll give it my most
I have one more thing this poem to post


What is your 2020 truth?

New year means new beard
It is not brown anymore
It will now be gray


You say, “Stop” but I say, “Go, go, go”

At midnight the bells will be ringing
Of course Auld Lang Syne we’ll be singing
I hope that the new year is bringing
Relief to soothe all of the stinging
That 2019 generated
Goodbye to the things that we hated
Hello to the love we’ve awaited
Here’s wishing we’ll all be elated


Apologies to Reg

I can’t find sun in Irish wintertime
I know it’s cold, but that’s another deal
Outside’s darkness when I hit snooze on the damn alarm
But these clocks I have, hard to believe their time is real
Don’t let the sun go down at three
When walking home from town, it’s always dark and I can’t see
So please allow a small beam of that light to shine on me
‘Cause here at wintertime is like the sun going down at three