CUTTING OFF YOUR NOSE TO FEED YOUR FACE

My smeller may be broken
I cannot get a smell
Is that chicken noodle soup?
Or Clams Casino?
I can’t tell.

My nose is on the fritz,
At least that’s what I think,
We drove past a manure farm
And I could sense no stink.

In fact it’s all non-scents,
No matter what I sniff,
The assembly line of my olfactory
Can’t make a whiff.

Whatever might be in the air
I can’t a bit detect
But if I may, those cookies in your hand….
Might I inspect?

They look delectable,
My eyes are Frisbee big.
Would I like one? Well I shouldn’t….
I don’t want to be a pig.

But maybe just a bite
A nibble, and another,
Wait! I can’t believe it ….
I think my nostrils tingled, brother!

Better take another cookie
They have the power to heal!
Every scrumptious crunchy byte
Makes my nosy muscles squeal!

What’s that – you’re out of cookies?
Now that they did the trick?
That’s a shame. Condolences.
At least my odor motor’s fixed.

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WITH MY CAR WINDOWS ROLLED DOWN IN THE RAIN

The inside of my car is getting wet,

So I open an umbrella inside it,

I discover that it isn’t a great fit,

A convertible might be a better bet.

rainyumbrellacar_edit

THE UMBRELLA CAR – (Drawing: PaC)

YOU CAN’T, LEAF!

You there, leaves,

Back on the trees!

You may NOT yet come down

And blanket the ground!

You must help us stall

The beginning of fall,

Because the end of summer

Would be such a bummer.

So up, up, you go

To those branches you know,

Back up in place,

This isn’t a race!

Then in one month feel free

To LEAP off the trees,

Right now I can’t take

The thought of a rake.

AUTUMNA NON GRATA - (Photo - PaC)

AUTUMNA NON GRATA – (Photo – PaC)

ON THE OTHER SIDE

I can see it there …
Just beyond the bus door …
Just down the bus stairs …
After just one stop more …

Hissing brakes
Lurching stop
Squeaky hinges
I stand at the top …

Then step step step, down I go,
When feet hit street it’s begun:
The summer, sweet summer, there it is, right there,
Just beyond the bus door, all that fun.

GRAINIACS

They have rice by the silo
Risotto by the truck
Without oatmeal or cornmeal
They’re never stuck.

Next to their quinoa
And rye piled high
They keep sorghum on hand
In mountains scraping the sky.

By a longshot there’s less
Pasta than Theirs in Italy
And certainly than Them
Ireland has less barley.

Maybe you think
They need granola?
About as much as
Coca needs Cola.

They are the Grainiacs
With more grains than you know
Now all they need is oceans
And oceans and oceans
(did I mention oceans?)
of water to make all those grains go.

NOT A SQUARE ANYWHERE

There was a block party
The Lincoln Logs hosted,
Being metal the Erector Set
Ran marshmallow roasting.

Like a social chair would
K’Nex networked non-stop,
The Magformers stuck together,
The Wood Letter Cubes did not.

The Megabloks, Nanobloks
And Kreos all came.
Jenga tried to sneak in again.
Why’s he so lame?

Often Bristle Blocks skip these things
But not this time:
They were chilling with Goldieblox,
Who, as usual, looked fine.

Typically they don’t
But the Play-Dohs got the invite,
But that wasn’t even
The big surprise of the night,

Which came when the Legos
Walked through the door
Their snap-on hair smooth
As they found the dance floor

Where they boogied down with
All the Playmobil ladies
When ‘New Kids on the Block’ played
The whole place went crazy.

Oh what a block party it was
It’s true,
Not a square anywhere,
And the Legos there, too.

THE CLOUDY CROWD

The dour damsel
Jade Lowbar
once ran a Cynic Clinic

Which marketed to
optimists Jade’s
“Cynic Fixaminic.”

Half-empty cups
were all Jade offered
to her sunny guests

In hopes they’d look
back and agree
that “What Was” was the best.

As time went on
Jade’s blue drink grew
famous with blue folks
…then others, too…

To not be happy
got sooo cool
it got too cool for
kids in school.

So Jade shelved plans
for “Grown and Groan”
her new sad syrup because

Adults didn’t need
and kids didn’t want
help celebrating “What Was.”

THE NAMING CONVENTION

Nick Name monikered all he met
with handles that explained
what were the things he noticed
that stuck most to Nick Name’s brain.

He’d say, “There goes Steamboat Sally
here comes Ragamuffin Joe!”
and Beany Fred and Jolly Jed
who if you saw you’d know

by those handles Nick Name issued
to organize his world
from Exotic Esmerelda
to the famed Non-Descript Girl.

SPUR CRAZY

Fewer things more than The Duke on a Schwinn embody what it means  to be Conveniently Texan

Fewer things more
than The Duke on a Schwinn
embody the meaning
of Conveniently Texan

I got boots for fightin’ brutes
but love to sip from champagne flutes,
I get burrs on my spurs
but have a closet fulla’ furs.

There’s a Stetson on my head
on my belt a giant buckle,
but the aftershave I wear
comes from lovely honeysuckle.

Mama had me on the banks
of the mighty Rio Grande
but the outdoor life is one
of which I’ve never been a fan.

Rassle me from the Lone Star State
if you think you can
but if there’s one charge I won’t fight,
it’s I’m conveniently Tex-an.

SAND HASSLE

Go away birdies
leave me be,
I want to relax
here by the sea,
But your pecking is creepy
your breath smells like gill,
I want to sleep
and your cawing is shrill.
So go away birdies
go fly away,
there are no crackers here,
no reason to stay.

bird_venicebeach_og

“Early Bird of Venice Beach” (Photo: PaC)

CAN’T BE LICKED

All day I could eat ice cream

Then still have more at night

To say there is a time I can’t eat ice cream

is not right.

That’s why in all my belt loops

I hook on sixteen spoons,

It’s why at my house there’s

Ten freezers in each room

And toppings stashed inside the pocket

Of each coat I own

And why I’m working on a way

To eat ice cream through my phone.

Ice cream may not be perfect

But it’s very very close

So to sundaes, cones, and chipwiches,

Let’s raise an ice cream toast.

licked_edit

BuccanAir

The Pilot Pirate

flies a peg-leg plane.

The Pilot Pirate

keeps booty on the brain.

The Pilot Pirate

has a sneaky parakeet,

who’d rather have an aisle

than a window seat.

The Pilot Pirate

navigates sea and air.

The Pilot Pirate

doesn’t have a care.

The Pilot Pirate

makes the world his lair,

soaring and swording

and ARRRR-ing everywhere.

The Pilot Pirate

wears an eye patch,

and when putting it on, yells,

“Batten down the hatch!”

The Pilot Pirate

goes fast but doesn’t run,

because swashbuckling sweaty

ruins the fun.

Screen Shot 2016-08-19 at 11.56.58 PM

This photo first appeared on Instagram.  For more like it, click here.

letter perfeCt

Coelacanth
scimitar
sconce and crèche
are words in which you can see

A flexible fungible
letter with moxie,
the magical malleable
letter C.

It’s silent it’s loud
it’s subtle it’s proud
it comes after A and B,

Coy crazy clandestine
Cantankerous cirrus
The bendable mendable
letter C.

A coelacanth is a famous fish from the Indian Ocean, which borders on Asia — where curved swords called scimitars were created.

UNBE-C-ABLE: Coelacanths are famous fish from the Indian Ocean, which borders on Asia, where curved swords called scimitars were created. (Illustration by PaC)

BE RINDFUL

One small boy
can handle an apple,
A peach, a pear,
the largest strawberry.

One girl can devour
an orange, a fig,
a pile of dates
or even blueberries.

Between two pals
A giant grapefruit
or a big bunch of grapes
won’t very long last.

Among a few people
a bowlful of raisins
Or a pound of cherries
will be gone fast.

But above the rest
is one social fruit
That can only be consumed
by a large group that’s gelling,

Because like a village
raising a child
It takes a whole team
to eat one watermelon.

A SWEET SITUATION

Don’t make me eat these donuts
Because I will, I swear
It may be almost dinnertime
But I don’t even care.

I’ll take down the powdered sugars,
All the crullers and old-fashioneds
With no concern how it offends
Those potatoes that you’re mashing

‘Cause I feel a little nuts and
Upsetting spuds won’t hold me back
From irrationally ingesting
A giant donut stack.

Will my appetite be ruined?
Let’s just say I’ll take that chance.
In this game of donut chicken
Try and push me and we’ll dance.

Click on the photo of JFK - here, stopping for donuts at a West Virginia store in 1960 - for more great HistoryinPics. (Photo: HistoryinPics)

Click on the photo of JFK – here, stopping for donuts at a West Virginia store in 1960 – for more great HistoryinPics. (Photo: HistoryinPics)

STRING DANCER

I want to run away
You can think me a fool
I want to leave this place and join
An elite Yo-Yo School,

I want the finger magic
The skill to twirl and flick
How making disk and string obey me
Would be plain epic,

The Walk the Dogs
And Elevators
Eiffel Towers
Alligators
Cradled Cats
And Rounded Corners
Twinkled Toes
And Jolly Mourners,

Imagine all these parlor shows
That will reside in my elbows,
Wrist and palm and thumb combos
Yos flying high, yos digging low,

For the knowledge I will need
For the lessons that I crave
For a mastery of Yo
I will gladly be a slave,

Years of study it may take
Perhaps a decade, that’s a fact
But like a yo
After I go
If I do right
I will be back.

EIGHN’T THAT THE TRUTH

Mom’s a driver, hand on the van
Mom’s a cook, hand on the pan
Mom’s a shopper, hand on the bread
Mom’s a tailor, hand on the thread
Mom’s a scrubber, hand on the towel
Mom’s a builder, hand on the trowel
Mom’s a math whiz, hand on the bills
Mom’s a doctor, hand on the pills.
It all proves that
Mom’s part octopus:
At least eight-handed
Looking after us.

ROUND AND ROUND

My sister’s dance recycle was held this afternoon
The open was a fresh take on the classic “Brigadoon.”
The ballerinas stole Act II updating “Claire de Loon”,
Next came a Modern version of “The Ballad of Rocky Raccoon.”
Throughout it all I snacked on extra crunchy Lorna Doones,
Which the Tap Dance Troop’s clicks covered to a new “Angelina, Zooma-Zoom.”

From where this event got its name,
at first I had no clue:
There were no boogeying bottles or can-canning cans.
But after seeing the old songs
rethunk, reduced, and reused
“Dance Recycle” is now a name I understand.

recycle_edit