Resolve, Break, Repeat

As time runs out on this year
And to the future I peer,
I think I might do better
With vows myself to fetter.

What did I do not enough
Or too much of some stuff?
Something to improve my health
Or to utilize my wealth?

I recall this from before,
Doing this annual chore.
With the last list I will cheat –
Resolve, break, and then repeat.

Happy 100th, Charles Schulz

We grew up with Charlie Brown
Who never grew up at all.
Simple sketches with heads so round,
A world where everyone’s small.

That did not shrink what they said
Nor decrease their adventures.
Philosophy to fill your head
From Linus’ little lectures.

Sportsmanship needs not a win
Only a persistent try.
Confidence comes from within
And even a dog can fly.

Your friends come in many kind,
Though blockhead some may call you.
But when you get in a bind,
It’s all hands to the rescue.

It may not be all you need
To learn how to cope with life.
But to Sparky you pay heed,
And it’ll get you through some strife.

Rose is a Four-letter Word

Rose is a four-letter word,
Risky message may be borne.
What by the receiver heard –
Be its flower or its thorn?

Is any language so pure
The hearer hears what is said?
How can the speaker be sure
What enters the hearer’s head?

Some listen for the right words
And others judge by the deed,
A gift, a walk to see birds,
Or it’s a big hug they need.

Even when you get it right
You may be off the next time.
Better to forgive than fight –
Love may have no perfect rhyme.

Hear the try and not the fail
When the other person speaks.
Hope the same when next you flail
To say the truth your heart seeks.

At the Farmers’ Market

(tune: The Girl from Ipanema,
Antonio Carlos Jobim (1962))

Small and warm and brown and tasty
With my empanada I go walking
And as I eat
Each bite makes me go aaah

‘Round the booths, stroll like a gawker
At foods so good and oh so tempting
That when I pass
Each booth makes me go oooh

But I must skip by sadly
How can I sample all those treats?
Yes I would break my diet gladly
But each day, when I swallow my pills
They tell me food is why I'm ill

Small and warm and brown and tasty
With my empanada I go walking
And today that’s all I will get –
But yet …

What Do You Get When You Have a Baby?

(tune: I’ll Never Fall in Love Again,
Bacharach & Hal, 1968)

What do you get when you have a baby?
A small one to demand your attention
To do smelly chores which we won’t mention.
Oh, will I ever get to sleep again?
Oh, will I ever get to sleep again?

What do you get when you feed a baby?
You get a few burps and then the throw up
And you wonder if she’ll ever grow up.
Oh, will I ever get to sleep again?
Oh, will I ever get to sleep again?

I’ll tell you what it’s all about
Because I’ve been there, but now I’m out.
Beyond those chores, those chores that tire you.
I will tell you what to aspire to.

What do you get when you have a baby?
You start a life of trials and wonders,
A series of triumphs and blunders.
Although you will get to sleep again,
Life will never be the same again.

No, Life will never be the same again.

Seance with Isaac Singer

Last night I had a small chat
With the late Isaac Singer.
Asked by an aspiring rat,
What advice would you give her?

You do not need to be first,
Nor the idea yours alone.
Your lineage may be the worst –
You could still be an unknown.

But dreams will not get you there –
They do not finish the race.
You need lots of wear and tear
Before you will see first place.

Hard work will not guarantee
That ideas to success grow.
But without, take it from me:
Wishing does not make it sew.

National Tell A Lie Day

If I tell you I am lying,
Will you believe me on this day?
Is it a half-truth you’re buying
If you choose to trust what I say?

Some think once a year to let us
Get our prefabrications out.
For one day, liars won’t upset us
If they test our power to doubt.

If I were asked what I preferred,
I would rather a day of truth.
All other days, tales may be blurred,
But on that day, all’s true, forsooth!

For, truth be told, it’s very rare
To get through a day without lies.
If your lungs still suck in the air,
You likely have things to disguise.

Perhaps it’s a joke or a bluff
Or something to lighten the blow.
We all are filled with lots of stuff;
Even silence hides what we know.

So you can choose if you believe
What I try to reveal today.
I’ll be back later to deceive,
On gullibility to prey.

New Tricks

As we age, we repeat ourselves,
Rereading the books on our shelves,
Watching the shows we saw before,
Wearing clothes we already wore.

There is comfort in the old ways,
The things we know from bygone days.
When we think we have done it all,
That is when into ruts we fall.

Perhaps we need a few new tricks –
Something different, just for kicks.
Is comfort just too overrated?
Are some of our tricks too outdated?

So stretch a bit, take on a dare,
And give yourself a little scare.
You do not need to do it twice,
But just this once, it might be nice.

Too Cold to Get Up

Nowhere to go,
No hurry to get there.
Lying in bed,
Wondering if I care.
Some men have plans
Beyond their own lifetime.
For me, perhaps,
For the next line, a rhyme.

After this life,
There will be … who knows what.
Promises are made
I don’t trust in my gut.
One time around
Seems more likely to me.
What you are here
May be all you will be.

If that be so,
Can it satisfy you?
Would it then change
What today you will do?
Too cold today
To add more to your fame.
Maybe Monday,
Immortalize your name.

An Avid Indoorsman

When I complete my dating profile,
I must state my true preference.
When I have some extra time to while,
Give me my Nature with temperance.

I will go for a walk if I must
Or even if the company’s pleasant.
I’m not afraid of a bit of dust,
But I prefer when walls are present.

So, let us play games at a table
And, better yet, let me have a seat.
Or we can watch some sports on cable;
That’s perfect for an armchair athlete.

I can easily amuse myself
With the home wifi within my range.
Or I can take a book from the shelf,
But shelves on the beach are rare and strange.

So, enjoy your leaves, wind, rain and sun
While I remain comfy in my chair.
I say, to each his own kind of fun,
But don’t go get eaten by a bear.

Planning of Whippets

I live my life in snippets
With the focus of whippets,
Chasing rabbits around the track.
If I had a longer span
And was one to make a plan,
I’d notice the success I lack.

But keeping my goals so short
Gives me success of a sort,
Making me a contented man.
I puzzle from clue to clue,
Bites well sized for me to chew,
With no need to see the whole span.

When you need to see the end,
With in its blank, you portend
Failure before the effort began.
You may hesitate too long,
Fearing outcome will be wrong,
And you do not do things you can.

Do not fear you won’t finish
For the chances will diminish
For all projects you never start.
You also may be like me
And best achieve by degree --
Doing, not being done, is art.

The Age of Asparagus

(tune: The Age of Aquarius
(from Hair, Rado, Ragni, and MacDermot (1967)))

When the grown child is in the parents’ house
And college life confronts Mom’s
Then change will guide her diet
And meat will give her qualms
This is the dawning of the Age of Asparagus
Age of Asparagus, Asparagus, Asparagus

Broccoli and tofu hummus
There are now vegans among us
No more red meat, eggs, milk, or cheese
Only eating from stems and trees
Novel cuisine exhibition
Balanced against malnutrition
Asparagus, Asparagus

When the grown child is in the parents’ house
And college life confronts Mom’s
Then change will guide her diet
And meat will give her qualms
This is the dawning of the Age of Asparagus
Age of Asparagus, Asparagus, Asparagus

Let the vegan, let the vegan in, the vegan in
Let the vegan, let the vegan in, the vegan in
Let the vegan, let the vegan in, the vegan in
Let the vegan, let the vegan in, the vegan in

Oh, let her in, c’mon
Now everybody just eat along
Let the vegan in
Improve your heart and let the veggies in
When you are hungry, have veggies now
Got to let her in your heart and let her diet in
And when you feel like you’ve been mistreated
And cannot live this way
Just open your mouth and sneak ice cream in

Wonderful Weirdo Day - September 9th

Finally, a day for me --
It’s Wonderful Weirdo Day.
To be as I want to be;
To say what I want to say.

If the neighbors inhibit you
And you hold it back inside,
Your tongue you politely chew
And thoughts you discreetly hide.

But Wonderful Weirdo Day
Is the time you can let go.
Whatever you do today
Is gone with tomorrow's dew.

Today we will laugh with you;
Overlook disagreements.
We cherish your point of view;
Tomorrow’s for aggrievements.

Idle Minds Are a Silly Waste

Subduing grass into a lawn
Is a task to induce a yawn.
My mind let loose by humdrum pace
Switches from off to idly race.

Idle minds are silly for me,
A chance to flee reality.
Perhaps I should ponder deeply,
But instead I buy grins cheaply.

I hear little voices in my head
And catch a bit of what is said.
Some pass with only a low hum;
The unlucky seed a poem.

“My support doesn’t mean we agree;
My vote with you means you owe me.”

“I saw an angel late last night;
Hope it’s not me he came to smite.”

“I love to write a foolish verse;
Although a curse, it could be worse.”

“A llama walks into a bar --
How is this joke going so far?”

I might write one down, once inside,
To find what further it does hide.
Mostly I think me to amuse --
Often it’s my friends I abuse.

So, if I give you, friend, the choice,
Of my exploring of which voice,
Would you dare say which I should grow,
Or simply say, oh no, please, no!

Nobody stopped me, so:

============================

Politics make strange bedfellows,
It pairs up tubas with cellos.
If you think Reps work for your good,
You might not question where they stood.
In the hallway, just yesterday,
I heard one to another say,
“My support doesn’t mean we agree;
My vote with you means you owe me.”

--------------------------

‘Though it might seem best to believe
The stories which the churchmen weave,
Some tales I’ve heard from the pulpit
Were too strange for me to gulp it.
I mean to them no disrespect
If their teachings I must reject.
I saw an angel late last night;
Hope it’s not me he came to smite.

--------------------------

When all I hear is the old clock,
Voices in my brain start to talk.
They fill the silent spaces between
What is now and what may have been.

It seems likely they like to lie,
But, to tell the truth, so do I.
A fudge here and a flourish there
Will give a truth some room to spare.

I love to write a foolish verse;
Although a curse, it could be worse.
I mostly know what I made up,
And let you choose if you will sup.

--------------------------

A llama walks into a bar --
How is this joke going so far?
Said, I meant to be here sooner,
But was dating a vicuna.
Due to arid Andean air,
She doesn't drink very much up there.
She would not come in here with me,
And this is where the joke should be.

--------------------------

My Stump Speech

You may ask me on what I stand,
Or maybe even how.
I might use any stump at hand
To say what they allow.
But I am lucky most the time,
For I don’t draw a crowd.
I hide my thoughts in silly rhyme
Which I don’t say aloud.

Living in Disarray

Give me my life of disarray;
I’ll find something to do today.
I need not sort and rearrange
To place my leavings back in range.

All will later be there to find
If and when a need comes to mind.
It’s not lost, just a mite misplaced;
Looking now would just be a waste.

Although things might be briefly found,
They would return when they’re set down.
While I search for this, I’ll see that,
And mentally I’ll switch tit for tat.

So learn to live in disarray;
It‘s easier to rest that way.
Use what comes to your mind or hand;
If it doesn’t fit, change what you planned.

If I Did Not Have You

I may pause to wonder what I would do
If, no longer, I could kvetch about you.
With no bureaucrats soundly to berate,
No phone marketers to intolerate,
No noisy neighbors in their own backyard,
No cheerful clerks or guides who try too hard.

What if we all shared the same politics?
Then where would we cast our sarcastic bricks?
What would make me shake my head in wonder
If our beliefs were not set asunder?
Thank goodness for our great diversity --
I almost thought I would criticize me.

Armchair Olympics

Olympics: Faster, Higher, Stronger.
Us Oldsters: Smarter. Harder. Longer.
That which they seemingly do with ease --
The mere watching it can make us wheeze.

For them, it is a dreamed lifetime thrill.
For the rest, it’s hours of TV fill.
For them, goal to be victorious.
For us, it’s to feel vicarious.

The athletes have their multiple heats,
Wins, medals, and agony of defeats.
Amateur or pro, let them have fame,
Let them sweat, train and strain for their game.

Give us the five-minute frig relay,
The armchair dismount, and instant replay.
We’ll watch sponsors’ ads, consume their wares,
To do our part when Olympics airs.

Grandfather’s Confession

Humility is a crutch
From which I don’t suffer much.
I think others feel more pain
When I am so humbly vain.

I rap people on the shins
As my confession begins.
How will I feel my frisson
If there are none to listen?

Frisson is a thrill of fear --
In case you didn’t know, my dear.
It is not humble to brag --
It just fell out of my bag.

In my virtue I take pride --
Honest men have naught to hide.
But I’m ready to concede,
It’s not the top of my creed.

None more misled than am I
With how truth may pass me by.
The tale is so much more fun
Than what was actually done.

So if you do not believe
All the stories that I weave,
Well. that will still be alright.
You just go to sleep tonight.

Consumer’s Obligation

Many productive people toil each day
To fill our world with products of their work.
Should we feel a need to meet them midway
And do not our consumer’s duty shirk?

For what a high pile might the world become
Filled with neglected stuff from busy folks.
How soon would civilizations succumb
If none uses what industry evokes?

Perhaps you think I do nothing each day
To help our fellows in the vast mankind.
But that suggestion I strongly gainsay --
I digest plenty in stomach and mind.

But although that which I run through my guts
Soon is ready to be recycled elsewhere,
What I watch and read my purpose rebuts
And passes through me with no sign of wear.

I may even act to magnify it
And increase the load on our burdened world.
My fancy may be provoked by some wit
And idle thoughts into a response swirled.

So, I ask, if you do not mind too much,
When the productive twitch overwhelms me
And I cannot stop myself, then as such,
Forgive me for adding to your debris.