A Bad Case of Sonnetosis

What can I say I was feeling unwell
With a fever of a hundred and three.
I called the doctor. He examined me,
My ups and downs, my valleys and my dales,
My hearing, my touch, my taste and my smell
And all the ins and outs of my body.
It hurts like hell, my eyes cried with a plea.
He laughed and said, “Wait till you get my bill.
I’m afraid you have something atrocious.
Those iambic pentameters, you see,
Are showing up in my diagnosis.
There’s only one thing I know it can be.
You have a bad case of sonnetosis.
There’s but one cure. A sonnetectomy.”

Bald Man’s Blues

A pickin’ and a grinner

I was having a bad hair day
And for me that wasn’t easy
All my hair had gone away
And my head was feeling breezy

It was a big bad thing
When my head went lean
It was a big bad dream
When my hair left the scene

Once a shaker and a mover
Now two strands for a leftover
My hair’s nothing but a loser
And not much for a combover

It was a big bad thing
When my head went lean
It was a big bad dream
When my hair left the scene

All my bats were in the belfry
The top of my head was thin
Pulled down by Old Man Gravity
My hair took it on the chin.

It was a big bad thing
When my head went lean
It was a big bad dream
When my hair left the scene

Flood

In the wake of the coming tide
We’re gonna build ourselves a boat
Bring on the beasties two by two
The ones who can’t swim or float

Put our house on the marketplace
Sell our yard and all our stuff
Head on out for the open seas
Of violent moons and oceans rough

We’ll wait for the calmly waters
To play our games and drink our wine
Sing our songs and pray our prayers
Forty days and forty nights time

When the waters they recede
We’ll step on land with a whirl
Through the gates of paradise
Oh, my gosh. It’s Disney World

Superbowl Blues

In memory of Superbowls of yesteryear.

We don’t watch the Superbowl for the plays.
We don’t watch it for the ads for cars.
We only want to see another day
When Janet Jackson’s thirty-twos were a star.

It was a tragic turn of events
When Justin Timberlake left his prints
On Ms. Jackson’s thirty-twos.
It made all the evening news.

We may not remember the game
But nothing ever will be the same
When Justin’s hands made history.
That day Janet lost her mystery.

It was another bust the next year
Katy Perry wouldn’t drop her gear
Lenny Kravitz’s hands were tied
On his guitar they did reside.

So we may have to wait till next year
To rah rah rah and to cheer
Till then we’ll review the video
When Janet’s thirty-twos were a star.

We don’t watch the Superbowl for the plays.
We don’t watch it for the ads for cars.
We only want to see another day
When Janet Jackson’s thirty-twos were a star.

My Santa Claus Kit

So now it’s Christmas Eve I must admit
It’s time to pull out my old Santa Claus Kit
Done it a thousand times, still it’s a hit
It must be done for it’s in the holy writ
First the bourbon to get delightfully lit
Then I stumble on down to the basement
And search under all the whatchamacallits
Till I am completely at the end of my wits.
After lots and lots of starts and fits
I am not about to call it quits
Till up it pops from where it sits
My one and only Santa Claus Kit.
My red suit is in it, so are my white mits
To keep my hands warm for the night’s trip
My boots black as coal and other condiments
Even some meds for my one true zit.
The night is ready, a sleigh to equip
Up on the roof I make for it
In my sweater Mrs. Claus did knit
It’s so snug it’s a just right fit
On the third floor I stop to try and get
The eight reindeer from where they sit
They care about Christmas not one whit
They want a raise or they say that’s about it.
Even Rudolph, he’s such a snit
He has a red nose, he thinks he’s really It
I go to pull them after me till I get bit
“Ouch,” I cry, then, “I’m ’bout out of my wits.”
“We’ll not go with you,” the reindeer spit
I’m ‘bout to sober up, I need another hit
Of the bourbon so I can get some grit.
I take a swig and it does the trick
I throw my rope ‘round the reindeer neck
Before they know what happened lickety split
They’re ready to have a go at it
Up on the roof. To the sleigh they’re hitched
Then it’s over to the elf’s closet
Where I grab my bag and I toss it
Into the sleigh it makes something of a dent
Then I jump into the seat and sit
I raise the reins and ready for the ascent
One last shot of bourbon and I am bent
For the heavens and the stars that are lit
To guide my ‘round the world event
The seat is hard in the place I have to sit
Tomorrow my behind will have one big dent
For there’s no cushion in my Santa Claus Kit
Next year I’ll ask Santa, a pillow I shall get.