A con for the ages

Was walking down the way
When to me great surpray
I came across a wee canine-ish lad

I kissed and reached me hand
When off across the land
I heard a great commotion; I’d been had!

It was a nasty trick!
The wee canine-ish prick
Had brought along his pack of mangy mates!

Surrounded now am I
A barking party by
And though I run they follow through me gates

Inside, I lock the door
But ‘las, ‘twere not before
The pups went round and came in through the back!

So now I’ve fam’ly got—
Though, by my choice, ‘twere not—
If even they are just a rowdy pack.

What to write?

pexels-photo-302440.jpeg

What to write, what to write, what to write?
My upstairs is missing a light
I feel I am blocked
Like I’m locked in a box
Can’t concoct nor conceive, what to write?

When your head’s in a cloud, what to write?
Do I give in, give up, should I fight?
Do I stick it to blocks
Though my brain feels like rocks
Should I run to the docks
Or hide like a fox?
Maybe breathe noxious toxins, make words like “fomboxins”, catch pox, latch the locks, till I barf in my mocc’sins?

Oh Lord, what to do? I can’t write!

 

The Man Who Drove A Sedan

There once was a man
Who drove a sedan
And fam’ly was his only love.

He drove it to work
(He worked for a jerk)
And park’d in the garage above.

His car-space was small
And so was the hall
Down which he would go to his chair.

Today the hall lamp
Was being a scamp
And fell toward the man, through the air;

When all of a sudden his small brain was flooding with flashes of lives old and new,
And he did a turn, burn’d the kernel of learning that happened on that day of Tue.

There once was a man
Who drove a sedan….
He woke up confused, with hurt head.