Poetry

Time is so unforgiving I see it in my face The wrinkles and the lines They are getting hard to erase. My hair line is receding My bald is starting to show Is it true there are potions That makes your hair grow? My stomach looks distended There's nothing I can do My friends say I look malnourished Sometimes I think it's true. My legs are...

here once was a man named Googly Gav , Who had a rather curious craft. He'd cackle with glee and grin like a loon, While sticking on eyes ‘neath the light of the moon. Not on his walls or a garden gnome's hat— No, Gav had ambitions far bolder than that. He’d march to the mirror, pants ‘round his knees, And say, “Let’s give the lads some...

loan me a dime said the poet to the rhyme dropped like dice from vanilla ice the Gods of poetry spittin words like flem cause they notice when you notice them up in here up in here shout it like you got no fear turn that smokin' room around light her up and buy a round lines that bring em to their knees ask Edgar, William even Socrates this one is...

this is the day I begin to feel old the back is always sore the knees are shot the shoulder aches my real teeth are down to four a bout with cancer has taken its toll but they caught it early so I shouldn't moan what little strength that had remained has left with my testosterone my feet and toes are turning numb my eyes are fading fast it takes...

I heard a choir singing, dressed in robes of white, men and women lighting the world in the darkest night, but “The Messiah” wasn’t what they had chosen, and Handel was spinning in his grave, they were doing the Rolling Stones, and this thing was a rave, it was “Sympathy for the Devil,” and the choirmaster bounced about, doing his best Mick...

Why do I think I'm as strong as I used to be That doesn't make any sense to me. My mind seems to be willing and ready But I can't stand straight or remain steady. I act like I'm going to complete the task But I'm so good at wearing this mask. People see this man who seems so agile But I'm elderly, feeble, and fragile. I wish I could tell you...

Rainin again Sall a' compare ye tae this dreich auld day will ye lauch oot lood the noo or jist complain? As ye weel ken I'm pawkie an it's anely my wey Are you doon in the mou an drookelt wi rain 'cause yer theik's a' rousky an daggy wi the haar but ken a' canna complain cause a'm in the car an there's blae in the heivins an yer nae gaein fa

There was a lady from healing, Who had a wonderful feeling. She laid on her back, and opened here crack. And pissed all over the celling

A professional who seems pretty smart Said my intellect was off the chart My family asked, “how’s it affect you? What does it allow you to do?” I thought long, I thought hard, About what things could start, Then I remembered What my father said to me That and a nickel Will buy you a cup of coffee. Please note, this saying is from the 1930’s. When...

She pushed in front of me, she does it all the time, sulked the sun, pointing at the preening moon, even though he knows this breach of etiquette won’t be seen again or even dreamed of soon. But still he paces in the dark and wrings his hands, recalls all the small incursions that proceeded this total indignity, he cries and burbles through salty...

Good day, me hearties, and welcome y’all to hell, you think you’re here for a visit but you might stay a spell. Your travel man has advised you this will be an interesting trip, our climate is a bit balmy with heat that does not dip. But you’ll reacquaint with old mates who you were certain were lost, and the really fine part is it’s an adventure...

Everything is soup. Soup is water. Everything contains water. Strawberries are soup. Trees are soup. Grass is soup. We are soup. Your grandma's cat, soup. Your dad's toenails, soup. That homeless old man's corpse sitting on the side of the road, soup. I hate soup.