Deep Thoughts – Page 6 – Unfiltered Thoughts

Lift Me Up

Lift me up,
From my pain and sorrow.

Lift me up
Towards the sky.

Lift me up
To my Lord and Savior.

Lift me up
On the day I die.

The River Pee

I’m surfing down the River Pee.
There’s darkness in my hall, you see.
Dogs should only pee in the yard.
But going out sometimes is hard.

So, as I slide along the floor,
I wonder which among our four,
Has left this river in the hall,
That’s now a lake after my fall.

I am an accidental engineer.
A dam’s design was never clear.
Yet, I dammed the mighty River Pee.
I dammed it when I fell, you see.

It was not the only dam discussed.
I do admit, I may have cussed.
My wife is laughing really hard.
Why won’t her dogs pee in the yard?

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.)

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.)

Sailor’s Tale

There once was a woman named Flo,
At sea, she was willing to go.
While back on dry land,
She charged half a grand,
And the sailors all called her Land Ho.

I will write a poem every day.
Unless I have nothing to say.
Then, I have to write free verse.
Or haiku, sonnets or even worse.
So, I have to have a decent thought.
Or all this scribbling is for naught.
My thoughts of past were very bold.
They’re all gone now. I’m very old.

At Sea

Waves.
That is all.

Aging

We’re falling apart.
From head to toes,
From North to South,

All parts must go.

We’re forgetting things
We used to know.
From basic to complex,
From fast to slow.

There’s other problems,
This was just a little bit.
I had even more problems,
I don’t know where I wrote it.

Fifty Five

Wine improves with aging,
So does imported cheese.
My life has turned to vinegar,
So, can I stop aging, please?

I wrote a poem at fifty-four,
It wasn’t bad, I think.
But that was a year ago,
Now, I need a drink.

I don’t really feel that old.
Age is all in the mind, I see.
So, I guess I’ll pick a random time,
Let’s say, I’m forty-three.

In spite of all the Facebook posts,
My expression is still stony.
I’ve finally admitted to myself,
I’ll never get a pony.

Shades of Gray

A woman’s gray is pure evil.
Bottles fight it all their life.

A man’s gray is distinguished.
It starts once they get a wife.

Category: Deep Thoughts