Monday, November 26, 2007



The fat kid sat alone in the school auditorium reading a book while the rest of the kids ran around getting yearbooks signed. He didn't hear the sneak who reached around from behind and slammed a pie in his face.

He held tears back, licked his lips and said, "yummm, Lemon Meringue, my favorite."

Nothing There

I never had a notebook
nor a single piece of paper
upon which to write down
my redneck lit-rat-chur

My stuff floats inside my mind
ideas there are slow fermented
until cast out to cyber-space
for yours and other eyes to see

I hope for wisdom in my words
but doubt that wisdom is there
'cause this ol' boy ain't Solomon
so I'll settle for what ain't wise

You the reader can pass my stuff
or you can stop to read my words
I assure you it ain't deathless prose
but I hope pray it will amuse

So when upon my verse you stumble,
pause and take yourself a look see;
'cause my muse tries for lively words
that won't fall flat like old cow ...

Today, tonight, I'm at wit's end
I simply don't know what to write
for once I'm at a loss for words
my muse must have took to flight

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