Tex-Mex Blues

I love Tex-Mex food.
I would eat it every day.
Rice, beans and nachos,
What else is there to say?

It’s just sometimes,
There is a dramatic effect.
Like a volcano erupting somewhere,
Or a pilot forced to eject.

Today, my wife dragged me shopping.
She bribed me with Tex-Mex first.
We got to the store and I felt rumblings.
It’s not like something was about to burst.

I thought.

So, my colon blew out in WalMart,
I was stranded in the stall.
The guard came to check for theft,
But I hadn’t taken anything at all.

(Well, I took a dump. But, really, I left it. Thank you, George Carlin.)

Favorites

While at Applebee’s one night,
I found someone’s large iPhone.
I don’t see any names or labels,
However will I get it home?

I guess I’ll just dial the Favorites,
Since iPhones don’t speed dial.
One of them will recognize this phone.
They’re at the top of the pile.

“PsychoPuppy”, must be a college friend.
First on the list, her very best bet.
“Thank you for calling Rutherford Veterinary Hospital.”
That is not what I expected.
Apparently, this person has a sickly pet.

“My One True Love”, this is the one!
Second one down, their bond must be strong!
“Thank you for calling Norwegian Cruise Lines.”
Cruising is a true love?
I wonder if the sickly pet goes along?

Next one just says “Mary”, so there is hope.
Third one on the list, maybe family at last?
“Hi! This is Mary. I can’t come to the phone.”
Well, at least it’s a person.
I’m not leaving a message, that time is past.

Next one says “Mary”, too. Duplicates?
One more try, I hope it’s a good choice.
“Hi! This is Mary. I can’t come to the phone.”
I’m having deja vu.
Same message, different voice.

I’m calling and nobody’s home.
This is really annoying.
I’m thinking this caller will die all alone.

We’re at “ADC”, so maybe her company?
Let’s continue. We’ll get lucky next.
“Thank you for calling the Animal Diagnostic Clinic.”
Does this phone belong to a veterinarian?
What is wrong with this person’s pets?

The next is just marked “Ragle”.
I’ll just dial it really quick.
“Thank you for calling Dallas Family Doctors.”
People doctors?
So, it’s not just the pets that are sick.

One more! I had to scroll down.
I thought I was free.
“Virginia – why are you calling me? I’m in the rest room.”
Someone answered! Who is it?
It’s just marked “Bite Me.”

 

A Dog’s Journal

I just had the bath from Hell.
What can I do to fix this smell?

I wonder if that thing is dead?
I guess I’ll rub it on my head.

That pile really smells like shit.
I guess I’ll have to roll in it.

I have to go and chase the birds,
So they won’t try to steal my turds.

I’m not eating all my day-old poop
I’m just recycling before the scoop.

Mom always yells when I eat crap,
So I dropped a nugget in her lap.

Mom keeps saying “Go away!”
I think that means I have to stay.

Freedom Of Expression

For Ripley, a beloved pain in my ass

I wish I had a pair of hands,
So, I could just express my glands.

I’m having some intensive gas,
I need someone to squeeze my ass.

I’ve had my usual daily poo,
But I fear my glands are filled with goo.

It’s time to go and see the vet.
Don’t squeeze too hard, or you’ll get wet.

The vet will never do the job,
Vet techs have to squeeze out the glob.

My butt is clean as a whistle,
Next time, I’ll sit on Mommy’s Bissell.

East Dallas Noah

Another day, 
Another flood.
— God

I will build a 100-cubit Ark
In the yard behind my house.
It holds my four fixed dogs
And my pre-menopausal spouse.

We will fill it with supplies,
Dog treats, my coffee and her tea.
We’ll watch the rain waters rise.
Then, it’s down the Trinity.

When we reach the Gulf,
Take a right to Cozumel.
I should have brought a shovel.
Whatever is that smell?

Forty days and nights of sailing.
It’s our longest-ever cruise.
We’ll even have the puppies.
What do we have to lose?

When the flooding does recede,
We’ll recover from the strife.
We can’t rebuild the world,
So, we’ll have a quiet life.

La Sagrada Familia

“Let’s go up!”, she had said.
“It’s good for your head.”
“It will help bring you closer to God.”
The ride up was fine,
It took almost no time.
Then she said, “We get to climb down.”

As she started ahead,
I had a feeling of dread.
I followed her down the way.
On the eighth step, I tripped.
I supposed I just slipped.
I fell forward, and landed head first.

I’ve been stuck in this tower,
For well over an hour.
Nobody’s coming to help.
I’ve screamed and prayed,
Tourists behind seem dismayed,
And the line is growing in length.

The tower’s elite
Grabbed my hands and my feet,
They pulled with all of their might.
No matter how hard they tried,
I’m still stuck inside.
They finally went off to lunch.

So, I’m stuck here on my own,
Wedged into cold stone.
I wonder if I will ever be free.
I’ve been so long stuck,
I learned French and German for “fuck”,
But that hasn’t helped me get down.

I’m pretty sure Gaudi
Did not have an “outie”.
This tower would not be so thin.
He drank wine in liters,
He measured towers in meters,
But my inches just won’t fit at all.

From Paris to Plano,
People are mailing in Drano.
At least the public is trying to help.
I awoke with a scream,
It was all just a bad dream.
I will plan our vacations alone.

Every night when I pray,
I give thanks for the day.
I ask for forgiveness of sin.
Then, I say “For twenty-four hours”,
“Lord, protect me from towers.”
Then, I can go off to sleep.

Thirty

Thirty days hath September,
April, June and November.

Thirty days hath NaPoWriMo.

Thirty poems is a lot.
Thirty good poems may be a bit much to ask.

I may have to go edit a few,
To make them more coherent.
Some, to make them coherent at all.

Thirty has one more meaning.
For the press (old school),
You will see -30- in articles.
It means “The End.”

-30-

(see you next year, or when the fever strikes.)