He mumbles

He mumbles, forcing me to ask,
"What's that? What did you just now say?"
His vodka's done its nightly task,
Helped push his empty day away.

Amidst the hubbub at the bar,
Perched on his stool, his words unclear,
Above the strains of a guitar,
He tries to talk, but I can't hear.

The barmaid passes by, he points;
She brings a drink to fill his need.
He spills some vodka, which anoints
The bar, then drinks his holy creed.

On still being carded

At twenty-nine, that was my age,
Not thirty, although near,
A bartender who couldn't gauge,
Sought proof to sell me beer.

I had a wife and kid at home,
A job for board and bed;
I was adult, how dare this gnome,
To question what I said!

I vowed this stuff would come no more,
A 'stache would do the trick,
And years flew by with no encore,
Time passing very quick.

I wear a full, grey beard today,
It suits me not to shave,
And proof of age, I have to say,
Is not a thing they crave.

Phooling around

It doesn't show some mental lack,
If called paronomaniac;
The name's for he who thinks it phun
To play with words, and make a pun.

Occam's Razor

Occam's Razor, suggests you find
The simplest way, and peace of mind;
Your first solution could work best
To get a problem off your chest.

The cockroach

Consider the lowly cockroach,
Who runs away at our approach;
The cockroach wants some crumbs to eat;
We try to kill him with our feet.

When species have the proper tools,
Survival of the fittest rules;
Cockroaches still may have their day,
When hapless mankind fades away.

On choices

Should we turn left, or to the right?
Is it the day, or is it night?
Confused, we heave dramatic sighs,
Then choosing, wonder, were we wise?
We make choices, and we fiddle,
Winding up close to  the middle.












And wind up somewherfe in the middle.

Schrodinger's Cat

Physics quantum's
Where we want him
Alive, or dead.
Is he either
One, or neither?

A visit from a one-percenter

The winter was freezing in year twenty-fifteen,
And we grew impatient for the spring, and its green.
Would times be better for each one of us renters,
Out-of-work home owners and non-one-percenters?

Our plastic maxed out, and nearly hysterical,
We needed money, and hoped for a miracle,
We'd stolen from Peter, as we tried to pay Paul;
With most bills overdue, we could not pay them all.

Last Christmas, fewer presents lay under the tree,
We'd bought for the children, but not you, and not me.
At night, we turned the thermostat setting to low,
With the oil tank near empty, the heat came up slow.

We'd spent every penny of our last jobless checks,
And stayed home all the time, in debt up to our necks,
But we hoped, as we shivered together in bed,
That things would get better, like our government said.

As I yawned, and began drifting off into sleep,
I heard a horn outside that had started to beep.
I opened the window, and beheld a Rolls-Royce;
It was silver and shiny, some wealthy man's choice.

The driver at the wheel of the custom-built car,
Well-fed and jolly, was puffing on a Cuban cigar.
He was dressed to the nines, in a fancy blue suit,
I could tell from his Rolex, he had lots of loot.

And sitting right near him on the passenger's side,
Was a gorgeous young blonde, just along for the ride.
He smiled as he saw me, and broke into a speech,
With cliches on hard work, bromides rich people preach.

"If you want to succeed, be like me, and work hard,
Or lazy, like losers who take care of my yard.
If you tax rich people more, you'll hurt all of us;
The jobs will trickle down, so cut out all your fuss!"

"Now, I have to go," he said, revving his engine.
I hope you're with me, wealth and power are no sin.
I'm off to the airport, so my new jet can fly;
It's Tahiti this weekend! Good luck, and goodbye."

On infatuation

I was infatuated with you, dear,
No other word describes the way I felt.
How did it happen? Why? When you were near,
I was bewitched,  all  my reserve would melt.
With dark sunglasses tilted on your nose,
You glanced at me, and I returned your look
And couldn't look away if I chose,
Your effect on me more than I could brook.
What followed, every time that we would meet,
Became a fencing match, of parry, thrust;
You won the match, and I signaled defeat;
My passion spent, love crumbled into dust.
Infatuation isn't meant to last,
But it consumes, until its heat has passed.

February

The earth, impatient,
Wishes that a bird would sing,
But awaits impending snow

On sunflowers

Pert flowers frolic by a wooden fence,
Their open faces turning to the sun;
Umbrageous blossoms flaunt insouciance,
Delighted that the spring has now begun.
Sunflowers know the briefness of their stay,
But they drink beauty from the morning light,
And like bold lovers, they embrace the day,
Although aware the day will turn to night.
Their evanescent life will soon expire;
But their vital presence shows the best
Of life's tenacity, and its fervent desire
To never end, to spurn an urge to rest;
The wheel of life rolls on, its turnings sure;
Like present time, sunflowers can't endure.