Retirement

Retirement what a wonderful thing,

Time at last is my very own;

Sometimes I just want to sing,

Such freedom I have never known.

You know a lifetime to get here,

Now short myself I will not sell;

This is my promise loud and clear,

This man, I intend to do it well.

Upon retirement I will put my stamp,

In big letters it will say ‘APPROVED’;

Now my style ain’t nobody going to cramp

‘Cause all the assholes I’ve finally removed.

Punching Above Your Weight

“You’re punching above your weight,”

Mr. Obama said in my dream.

And I thought well isn’t that great;

Seems I’m always swimming upstream.

But he is the President after all,

So I thanked him for saying so;

Punching above my weight y’all,

In my dream I was all a glow.

‘Twas then though he began punching back,

That big dude way above my weight;

“Whoa man,” I cried. “I’m a lover Barack.”

So I told the President I was late.

Yep, late for a very important date

Like the white rabbit running scared;

Hah, me punching above my weight,

In my dream a hero almost compared.

Semantics

His parachute didn’t open

And I suppose it is now moot

But flailin’ and gropin’,

His last word was, “Shoot!”

Of course there is some dispute

For witnesses on the scene,

They say his last word was, “Chute!”

Which I suppose it could have been.

But I guess semantics is all,

Shoot or chute just before he hit;

Whatever his last word to call,

I bet he was thinking Oh shit.

The Treaty

In a backroom the deal was cut

And the opposing sides shook hands.

Finally cracked, was this tough nut,

And they settled on the demands.

Hope at last, there was a glimmer,

A fine photo-op with the press;

But already tensions simmer,

Which, I’ll admit, caused some distress.

And as they signed with a gold pen,

Were ancient hatreds put to rest?

These great leaders of lesser men,

Such visionaries, unlike the rest.

Former enemies, now allies,

With co-operation to share;

A solution in compromise,

This new beginning, sitting there.

But tenuous, you could see

And I sensed failure there and then.

I knew this peace would not long be,

When one guy pocketed the pen.

Bored Beyond Belief

“Really, really, you don’t say.

Marvellous darling,” I was fawning.

The waiter brought another tray,

While inside I was yawning.

Bored I was beyond belief,

Turning a whiter shade of pale;

Man, I needed some relief,

The conversation was really stale.

And though she was a lady -

But boring beyond belief;

Until leaving for the coast maybe,

I stole into the night like a thief.

Gone as she called out for more,

In the dark down the trail,

So many drinks like memories to pour,

I missed the end of her tale.

With a Song on My Lips

With a song on my lips

And poetry in my heart,

I sing of women and ships

For this is my biggest part.

Men will go down to the sea

Just as they will return to shore,

For no greater love could there be

Than women and ships in lore.

Atop the waves from crest to crest

With a stiff breeze at my back,

Before the mast I’m meant to test,

And love I find with each new tack.

But my girl she waits on the shore

And my true love can’t be denied,

Until like all sailors gone before,

Stem I can’t the rising tide.

And of our time to remain

With my girl or ships to be,

And which I love more or the same,

Depends if I’m home or at sea.

Heard At the Bar

The turnip and the onion dip

Were talking religion at the bar,

Then the salsa I heard it quip,

Its religion was the best by far.

To eavesdrop on these condiments

Or ‘appies’ as they’re known,

I didn’t get their sentiments

For surely logic was not being shown.

Yes, each with their own point of view

Espousing loudly from their bowls.

Only their religion would do,

And theirs alone could save souls.

Now I’m not cut from the same stock

So I really didn’t have much to say,

But then the lemon and lime began to talk,

Yes, in my glass they twisted away.

“Religion,” they said, “Is merely bunk,

And nothing better refutes,

For you morons where the crackers dunk,

Still won’t accept us fruits.”