Tag: humor

On the Way to the Well

I live in a place where the water’s unclean
And rather than choosing to drink the unseen
I go to the store for a vending machine
Dispensing five gallons of water that’s clean.

All my containers experienced drought
So last night I gathered them up for my route
To a filtration spot that’s completely about
The reverse osmosis to get garbage out.

Only it starts to pour as I pull in the lot.
I luckily manage to get the first spot,
But I sit in my car because I’d rather not
Get soaked to the bone like someone who’s caught

On a walk unsuspecting the water to come.
I see it, I came to get gallons of some
Cleaner water that’s filtered and not falling from
The sky I fault for this unfortunate sum

Of water that falls down with irony’s pain.
As me and my empty containers complain.
I step out in puddles that think I’m insane
To go out for some water in this kind of rain.


My Overwhelming Basement

I should sit down to sort through
All I’ve chosen not to,
Since I’ve finally cleared a spot in
Basement piles I’ve forgotten.

I can clearly see the product of some spider sweat,
Decorations in between the Christmas that I’ve let
Sit for months behind a box of Halloween
That should have squeezed in right between

The box of camping gear that waits to live in twenty-ten
And the clothes I’ve kept that, maybe, might just fit again.
My pegboard hangs near empty on the wall
While the tools returned from projects start to sprawl.

The treadmill, the weight bench, my old furniture
All of which will someday be used I’m sure,
In fact right now they’re put to use by shelving gear
For babies who we know won’t show this time of year.

The aforementioned clearing must have been a mirage.
So instead of cleaning this mess, I’ll go look in my garage.


Jesus and Cornflakes

My son was eating cornflakes
And I took a flake or two.
This random act of playful theft,
Led contemplation through

A chain of thoughts that circumvent
My normal cornflake thinking
My thought pattern might represent
A drunkard ‘midst his drinking.

My tongue curled inside my mouth
Scraped the caverns of my bones
Starting North and heading south
To flick for food in pearly stones.

Then pressed against the molar
In the back most leftest corner
Sweeping Closest to the solar
Where Christ remains adorner

The food bits flick on out
With Creator from a crater
To the front of my closed mouth
Was my Lord I’d saved for later.

Heaven-Scent Steubenville

Undoubtedly, there’s something in the air.
The scent of which was sent to twitch your nose
Old factories there have olfactory flair
So that must be the stench, you suppose.

Now let me reveal the truth of the deal,
The stink and why we live near it.
Once you know, there’s much more appeal
Since the smell is the Holy Spirit.

Of all the scents that God perused
For His person without body
This strange new smell leaves us confused
‘till wisdom make us oddly

Okay with the stink in the morning.
With understanding, we realize
His morning breath’s adorning
Our Steubenville’s sun rise.

The Fall of the Gladiator Hand

He always gave the death grip
When the family came together
Unprompted from his arm would slip
his handshake like a tether.

You’d innocently place your hand
In vice grips he’d deploy
But quickly you would understand
Your hand was like a toy

Your whole arm moved up and down,
This mad-man grip was crazy.
I decided I could take his crown
If I could just be lazy.

The next time that we met again
I had my silent wish,
Extended out my hand and then
I gave him the limp fish.

My shake was absolutely dead
No muscles tensed at all
The limp fish that his hand was fed
‘caused gladiator’s fall.

Joys of Parenthood

On sleepless days from sleepless nights
I’m up and solving sibling fights.
Who’s Cheerios are on the ground?
Who gets to sweep the mess around?

The poopiest of all gets changed
While my shoes are rearranged
By the other dressing up
And spilling from her sippy cup.

Our newborn doesn’t need those toys
They’ve piled on, releasing noise
Competing with his little cry,
I pick him up but wonder why

I bring him to my shoulder, pat his back
And though my shirt was colder, once was black
My brilliant son performs as if on cue
And leaves a badge of honor there for you

To notice what I’ve probably forgotten
Amidst the other joys that I’ve been caught in.


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.


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.