I call this “Killing Time.” Either because I’m killing time writing this crap, or because you’ll want to kill me just to get me to stop. Either way, here’s some poo-etry.
“Blissful Sleep”
Lonely, horny, waiting for morning
your snoring is boring
I want to sleep again
but I can’t.
A freight train in bed
thund’rous snores again
and me without earplugs
to stick in my head.
Have you considered sleeping
standing on your feet,
lying in the tube
or out on the street?
Good god, woman!
How does a sound so large
come from a hole so small?
—
“My irritating children”
Won’t they go to sleep?
Wand’ring children
should be counting sheep.
Please please please
won’t you settle down?
My sweet demon-spawn
you’re wearing me out.
That last nerve
is so very raw
I’m about ready to chase you
with my reciprocating saw.
If only I could find
an extension cord
long enough.
Damn, why didn’t I
go cordless?
—
Thank you, thank you all! But please, hold your applause for now. I have two more before this nightmare ends . . .
“Pooetry”, or “Inspiration From the World of Children’s Literature”
I need to poo
Oh, I need to poo
How about you?
Do you need to poo?
’cause . . . everything poos!
in the toilet
on the floor
or all over your shoes!
Yeah!- we all have to poo.
Whether dropping
the wife and kids
off at the pool,
dropping anchor,
blowing an o-ring,
or passing some stool
we all love to POO!
Spending some time
alone in the library
a good book
and some cool porcelain
oh yeah, squattin’ here
until my legs both go numb.
—
And now, we’re down to one. This magical way with words, this, um, word-way or whatever, must be what inspired the National Poetry Society to award me $50 all those years ago for a poem I neither wrote nor submitted.
“Melancholy Shell”
You don’t really love me
you don’t really care
the distance keeps growing
the emptiness blowing
through the spaces we shared
I love you forever
lasted a year
I want you forever
just not here
Empty spaces, empty lives
and empty in between
was it me or was it you
was there anything I could do?
or was it over
when I met you?
—
Okay, now you can clap. And send cash. Thank you.
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