Bird Poop Rainbow

My windshield wipers smear bird poop across the window.
As if the Holy Spirit’s in the form of a Dove,
I look at this white brown and green rainbow
And start thinking ‘bout God’s covenant Love.

We want a movie with music and clean rays of light
Even though Jesus healed eyes with dirt and spit.
Although we don’t all get the gift of sight,
Don’t tell me that God doesn’t give a poop.

The Bearded Food-Fighter Talking Snack

I grow hair on my face.
And I think that’s a bit weird
That my chin can displace
Skin and grow out a beard.

These opened up pores
bring a strange facility,
My beard slowly stores
Up food with ability

To conjure it later
When the time is right
These amo’d invaders
Prepare to food fight.

If you bring it with good things
You’ve bought just to throw
I’ll wing it with ling’rings
Of “Classics” I know.

These leftovers left on
Will stay there for lunch
Lest you look for the cleft on
My chin, throw some punch.

If you prompt a defense,
We’ll counter attack
My fork circumvents
My mouth with this snack

Plucked out of my hair
To put you to shame
I’m ready, beware,
If you don’t know my name,

I am that bearded guy
Who has hair coming out of his face.
I make small children cry,
Wearing food that I misplace

In this curly red haired machine
That lets torturers each take their turn
Trying to bring me down clean
With their blades and razor burn.

No, you lost this fight yesterday
Or maybe it was the day before.
So go ahead and play
with your food while I ignore

The unsightly bits of food in my beard.
The bits of food that make me look feared
To you and your friends that think it’s weird
That halfway through lunch, my plate has been cleared.

Japanese Beetles Sucked

A Japanese Beetle should cower
When sitting on top of my flower,
Eating Petunias with Glee.
He’ll no longer mettle
I’m crushing each petal
And stomping each buffet to-be.

Trapped inside astonishment
We both hold some accomplishment
Until I find his buddies in my garden
Pesto potential’s eaten
By those who’ve found a seat in
My basil plants and fail to beg my pardon.

Previous instincts didn’t suck
So I try a whirlwind attack
Rubbing my shop vac quick for luck
Let’s hope that they never come back.

Defining Normal: Advice to a newly married couple

You’ll establish your family’s spirit and generosity,
Welcome others to your home and show them love
Open up your hearts, include those people we
Pass by in grocery lines, but don’t think of.

Establish what it means to pray in married life
Creating habits that will form a life of prayer
A unifying constant for a husband and his wife,
That will welcome God and show his love is there.

It’s not unlikely you’ll find children on the way
And you’ll show them what it really means to live.
To love each other and those caught up in today
You’ll show them what it really means to give.

The way you live your lives will be recorded
By your children’s memories that they recall.
The way you live your life will be reported
In nonverbal actions on display for all.

You hold a choice inside the palm of your hand.
It can be stuck there, nailed straight through,
Or more like a post-it you don’t understand
You could drop it and not have a clue.

You are a living example of this life that we get
From God who lets two lives become combined.
For your children, who you haven’t even met,
Normal is still yet to be defined

This vehicle will truly get me far

This vehicle will truly get me far,
Though I sputter down the Franciscan Way.
I still remember when I bought my car.

Car payments and I would no longer spar,
Instead I pay myself and now can say
This vehicle will truly get me far.

This vehicle is one that’s more on par
With one who lives like no one else today.
I still remember when I bought my car

Opportunity knocked this door ajar
So I went and stood inside the doorway.
This vehicle will truly get me far.

I’ll drive a beater then I’ll raise the bar
and buy something that’s less work and more play.
I still remember when I bought my car

It was a choice that some viewed as bizarre.
This turning point’s recalled as I relay
This vehicle will truly get me far
I still remember when I bought my car.

Newsprint Vs. The iPhone

The engineer and iPhone both concurred
Newsprint’s slowly picking up the slack
There’s an application in the printed word,
Uniquely, it can turn your fingers black.

This inky application, developers can’t copy
And that’s not the only Ap that’s prized in pages
For us who think the data plan’s a lot we
Search outside the screen to spend our wages.

Buying into the wrapping application for vases,
For 3D Art we paste Paper Mache.
The competition that the iPhone faces
keeps expanding applications every day.

Certainly iPhones are falling behind
Nostalgia in newsprint technology
Advanced engineers have tried but can’t find
An Ap that’s as good for canary pee.

Encouraging Ventriloquism

All of our children are sleeping.
while we’re stubbing our toes,
biting our fists, quickly creeping
around these furniture foes

That make me into a ventriloquist
Inflicted with a loud-noised injury.
I know that I can quietly resist,
But charming children wake to scream for me.

When Memories Stay In-Line


Circumventing orange cones
Like my feet are on tracks
hearing concrete tones,
as cars stand in stacks

Of traffic lined up on Sixteen Mile.
Driving decisions had been relented
By a detour keeping you, while
I skated by on the newly cemented

Road that was untainted
By tire track marrings
And yellow lines painted,
Too early for tarrings,

This smooth surface gliding
Underneath my wheels.
My memory’s sliding
From how it feels,

But I remember moments of victory
The hockey stopping, curb jumping times that we
Skated ‘cause skating could let us see,
A physical form in complacency.

Turn-Around Time


There are new fangled cameras with LCD Click-sures
instantly carrying clout
that your memory’s captured the digital pictures,
In zeros and ones, they’ve turned out.

But remember the old film cameras and printed photos
Where you didn’t know what was good.
You’d take a picture and have to suppose
They’d turn out, or hoped they would.

It could be months or even years before you’d venture to the store
To search through alphabetic bins for the film turned in before
Then you’d stumble on old photos to your ultimate delight
finding last years memories that had been out of sight.

Nowadays it’s instant that your friends can take a look
At ridiculous expressions that you bagged
In the shooting spree of friendly-fire photos that you took
And posted to subsequently be tagged.

Reader’s Interaction

I’m sitting on my front porch with the ease
Of a flag-rippling wind-chiming breeze
Because I was exhausted in my bed
Writing poem after poem in my head.

Poem after poem that I’d write you,
The reader who looks for a cue to
Take ownership inside my thought
and dance with the words I’ve brought.