Author: Blind John Ellsworth

Blind John Ellsworth (1960- ), a (questionable) poet and sometimes Texas bluesman. He has recorded one spoken-word album (thankfully unreleased), since he is still trying to learn to play guitar. (Lack of musical skills is what makes him a poet and not a lyricist. Plus, he can’t write music.)

Progress

When I was young,
The only excuse we used
Was “I forgot.”

Later, we graduated
To more exciting excuses,
Like “The dog ate my homework.”

Now, we’re on Wifi all the time,
So, we have rather bizarre excuses,
As in, “The squirrels chewed through the line.”

File this under “Sad But True.”
If you live in a old-tree cul de sac,
There are a lot of squirrels.

Squirrels chew trees,
And things that look like trees.
Phone lines look like trees.

Either that, or we have squirrels
Who are hooked on insulation.
Really? Find a new drug.

Anyway, they chew the insulation.
That leaves holes everywhere.
Everything works, until water gets into the lines.

The insulation is what stops the water.
So, every time we have a decent rainstorm,
The lines get wet and the phone stops.

This is only a problem from March until June.
So, it’s really not worth complaining about.
It’s not like I have to use the Internet for work.

So, the entire house is down.
No phone, Internet or TV.
I guess I’ll read a book.

I hate squirrels.

The Texas Volunteers

Hats off to the Texas Volunteers!
They’ve been marching on for many years.
They rose up when they heard the call,
They came together, one and all.

Patrolling someone’s vast estate
A mission that became their fate.
Keeping watch from some tall tower,
Often drenched by a sudden shower.

There was never a bet they couldn’t make.
There was never a chance they wouldn’t take.
They often find themselves at disadvantage,
Yet I’ve become their collateral damage.

I fight with the Texas Volunteers,
With Texas sand between their ears.
They take every job that they can see,
But then they always stop to ask “Why me?”

 

Me

I have a house,
I have a wife.
I have a happy, happy life.

(Oy vey.)

I have some dogs,
A girl and three boys.
They make a lot of noisy noise.

(A lot. Trust me.)

I eat too much,
My doctor won’t be quiet.
I said I’m on the see food diet.

(Stress will kill me first.)

I write bad poems,
And this is one.
I hope that reading it was fun.

(You’re not getting a refund.)

It’s Wonderful!

We are living in a doomed age

We are living in a doomed age.
Marketing and sales rule the day.
That would be fine, except
They’re mostly idiots.

To be fair, some are not.
They know they’re lying.
The rest truly believe their press.
The press that they wrote.

If everything worked as well
As sales and marketing said,
We would all be working
Three-day weeks. At most.

Unfortunately, none of it really works.
Some of it doesn’t work at all.
It’s sad, really.

So, the next time your manager
Presents you with the solution to all,
Just remember, they believe it.
So, be gentle when you burst the bubble.

Obama Kool-Aid

I don’t know about you,
But I never drank Obama Kool-Aid.
I’m glad I didn’t.

First of all,
Some misunderstood youth
Stole the flavor packets
From a grocery store.

The water was all donated,
But it might have lead in it,
So drink around it,
Or just hold your nose.

The volunteer women who mix it,
Deserve at least $15 per hour,
And they keep using their penises
To stir it all up.

Luckily, the recipe is on the packet.
Since the White House recipe was lost.
It was securely mailed to Hillary,
And she kept it on her server.

The other big problem so far,
Is that the ice keeps melting,
But not nearly as fast as people predicted.
Scientists are examining this.

The original price was forty-nine cents
And that was for a sixteen-ounce glass.
But, with the amount of people each glass supports,
It’s now seven thousand dollars for six ounces.

Seven thousand dollars is a lot for a drink,
But luckily, there are people who don’t want it,
So they will pay for yours.
They deserve to pay for yours.

You can have any flavor you want,
As long as you want cherry.
Remember, dead Chicagoans prefer it
Two to one over any other beverage.

You have to use a special glass.
You might have been told you could use your glass,
But that was incorrect.
The government will sell you the glass.

If you’ve drunk the Kool-Aid,
You may want to brush your teeth.

Cannoli 

I may have smoked a little weed,
And then, I had that certain need.
A craving, that we all remember well.

My kitchen had lots of stuff I was saving
But nothing there could kill the craving.
All I had was sugar and some cheese.

Pastry sheets were in the freezer,
I pulled them apart with my tweezers.
I mixed up the sugar and the cheese.
(I started giggling.)

I fried the sheets ’til they were brown.
I found a tube to wrap them around.
(It holds my toilet tissue,  so it’s cool.)

I filled the little tubes with the mix,
Of the sugar and the cheese I’d fixed.
I wished I had some chocolate sauce around.

Mmmmm. Chocolate.

Wait a minute! Holy Moley!
Italian little tubes are called “cannoli”.
So, this stupid craving-killer has a name.

(I was really giggling, now.)

It was really tasty good!
I should sell these in my neighborhood!
As long as my neighbors all smoke weed.

A Puppy’s Confession 

I’m sorry, Mom.
I couldn’t see.
Your carpets look like grass to me.

I’m sorry, Mom.
I’m just a boy.
But Mommy’s bra is not a toy.

I’m sorry, Mom.
I shouldn’t snoop.
It’s just it was a tasty poop.

I’m sorry, Dad.
Mom took my ball.
I didn’t know you had a conference call.

I’m sorry, Mom.
You looked comatose.
So, I had to lick you on the nose.

I’m sorry, Mom.
You weren’t awake.
I was calling to my neighbor Jake.

I’m sorry, Mom.
You’re turning blue.
I thought I could jump over you.

I’m sorry, Dad.
For causing lossage.
I thought you had a little Snausage.