Category: humor

Avoiding the Death of the Coffee Pot

Avoiding the Death of the Coffee Pot

I look at the coffeepot and know he’s
Purposefully dripping down slowly
But I’m too out of energy to get up
Walk over and steal a cup
From the drips, delightfully hot
Descending into the pot.

I look at him, imagining the worst
What if the coffee pot burst
And I had no caffeine inside of me.
In vein, he would have died for me.
I’d see my friend’s life come to pass
In broken coffee-shards of glass.

I grab a mug down from the shelf
and make a promise to myself
To avoid this tragedy
And grab the pot more carefully
Than I did inside my mind.
Then pour my cup so I’ll unwind.

Parental Superpowers: Bending Time

Parental Superpowers: Bending Time

The manipulation of minutes, hours
And the second hand ticks
Make up one of the powers
that God placed in the mix

When He made fathers into supermen
Who can bend time and then
Pander where the time went
When their free time was spent.

I marvel when I can make time slip
With my parental super powers.
Previously when I made this trip
It was less than four hours

But it’s more like six with kids in tow.
And since my time’s now bendable,
My schedule’s now expendable,
Everywhere I go I know
This power’s what’s dependable.

Diaper Change Logic

Diaper Change Logic

I realize this might sound incredibly strange.
But at one point in my life, overwhelmingly
I’d Hold out my hand, gleefully, cup the pee
That my son had been shooting off mid diaper change.

There was a joy that was released in his fountain,
A giving-up frustration I could laugh at.
Unsure of how I could combat that
Molehill that just became a mountain.

Me and my pee-covered hand of confusion
Gave hindsight to my logical conclusion
On preventing pee from getting everywhere.
I smiled though, overwhelmed without a care.

Messy Passenger Seat

Messy Passenger Seat

Sure I can give you a ride
Just give me a moment to slide
Everything from the front seat to the back
And after I move this crumpled up stack

Of grocery fliers and cold French fries
I’ll give you a moment to realize
That you might be better off
Not sitting in my garbage trough.

The Wooden Ninja’s Attack

The Wooden Ninja’s Attack

There’s nothing as unnerving
As a splinter that is swerving,
Like a ninja about to begin
Invisibly under my skin.

Though I’m swearing like a sailor
My tweezers must prevail or
Let this wooden ninja beat me,
But I can’t let him defeat me.

If I can’t get him out, then I’ll break him in two
This poor little ninja won’t know what to do,
He’ll become part of me with his ninja ways
And I’ll be more ninja the rest of my days.

Club Flu

I wish I took more elevators so I could fake a sneeze
And then ask you, “Please excuse me and my saliva breeze.”
Meanwhile I’d extend my hand, because that’s what you do
When you welcome someone to the club that people call the flu.

My Children’s Hero on Garbage Day

My Children’s Hero on Garbage Day

On a magical day of the week
My children come to take a peak
On the couch pressing the window
Where they watch our garbage go.

For little girls and little boys,
It’s more exciting than their toys.
They’re beckoned by the rumble,
A garbage trucking grumble.

Jumping on the cushions of the couch
Like they won an Oscar the Grouch.
Their excitement verbalizes, “I can’t see,
Where is it?”  Leaving my response to be,

“Be patient, the garbage truck will get here.”
Their delight is mixed with a whine of fear
That they might miss the garbage truck,
They’d blink and then be out of luck.

Sure enough the truck rolls into view
The heroes grab a can or two
And hurl contaminants inside
The truck they stand on when they ride.

And that was just the neighbor’s trash
That caused my children’s glee to thrash
In jumping motions looking out
To watch the garbage truck in route.

Now it was our trash’s turn.
The garbage that we made would earn
It’s rightful place in the unclean,
Massive, mystical machine.

My children were already big fans
When our hero one-handed the cans
As if they were filled with vapor.
He tossed the bags like Christmas paper,

And like empty shells from a good guy’s gun
The cans rolled on as witness, he was done.
Off to clear the streets another day,
While my children jumped inside singing “hooray!”

 

Power Tools and the Hypostatic Union

Power Tools and the Hypostatic Union

I’m not saying Jesus wasn’t skilled
But maybe He tapped eternity and willed
Some power tools to His time back in the day,
Kept in the back of his place, out of the way.

So when someone had some project to be done
That Jesus thought wouldn’t be as fun
As spinning the world on his finger
He might take the project and linger

In the back for a much briefer duration
Before emerging with a woodworked creation
That was routed and sanded much faster,
Since His tool selection was vaster.

This granted Him more time to pander
Why His human intellect would wander
To things like what exactly is
This hypostatic union of His.

It’s Monday

It’s Monday

It’s an overcast-without-the-Sun day,
Weekend’s passed and now it’s Monday.
Clock blinks twelve oh what a fun day.
Running late un-mundane Monday.

I spread the grounds of coffee on the counter,
A Sleepy-eyed, spilled-over mistake.
How many scoops am I … should recount or
Welcome one more weakened coffee break.

Looks like the dishwasher didn’t run last night
So I add more soap in hopes it might
Actually save me time by doing the dishes
But Murphy is victoriously vicious.

“I want one more weekend coffee break”
My mind says as I get ready in the dark..
I grab some mismatched clothes and take
That dress shirt with the weird shaped coffee mark.

I pour a to-go cup of coffee, leaving it on the table
Lack of caffeine makes my hands unstable
As I’m scraping off my car that’s caked in ice.
One more day of weekend would be nice.

I drive all the way to work before I notice
that the coffee cup I’m holding’s awfully cold,
And it’s slushy, which makes me want to throw this
cup of coffee from last week, now four days old.

I balance the cold coffee on my shirt against my chest
Then step into my office, close the door to get some rest,
But Murphy steps in too and once again retorts
As I somehow spill slushed coffee on my TPS reports.