|Mork from York
By Joe Spaghetti
My wife's dog is a little Zoe and Zoe.
She will wave (not wag) her tail to say hello.
She's a curly tailed bit of a lap hog,
Who has graduated from being a school dog:
She knows sit, stand, wait, stay,
Heel, come, down and pray.
Her color is tawny
And for a midget she's kinda brawny.
I would be too
If I ate like you-know-who.
Her mixed breed is an American vogue,
But ofttimes the lass will dog talk wit' bit o' the brogue
(She softly bargles when she's not supposed to yip
Except when fetching exuberance makes her slip)
By Joe Spaghetti
Bad batters hit infield flies,
Mad hatters sip tea with house flies,
Some campers peg tent flies,
Crosswords contain half flies
(The tse from tsetse flies)
Actors get butterflies
A garbage truck has four wheels and flies
A roaring fire can make a flu fly
"Waiter there's a soup in my fly"
An open barn door is really a half masted fly
Which can be avoided by buying a button down fly
You might miss an appointment
Because there's a fly in the ointment
There's May flies, Crane flies and Caddis flies
And anglers catch trout by tying these flies
When bothered with dripping dread
You can shoo fly, shoo fly
Unless that fly is a deer fly
And bites you on top of the head.
|Viaduct? Why not a chicken?
When I’m chicken, I won’t play ‘possum,
I won’t think that the sky is fallin’,
I won’t droop like a weepin’ willow,
And I won’t put my head under a pillow.
I will honor my tears
And rise up to face my fears.
I won’t sigh and I won’t low,
I won’t decry the fire down below,
I won’t cringe and cower,
And I won’t hide under the covers.
I will let my heart quicken
And my blood thicken
As I take a lickin’
And call for Super Chicken.
Do you have any dough?
A sawbuck, a bit or a bill?
Could you let the currency flow?
Or would you fawn a lapse at the till
And let slip somethin' to me
(Like a clam, a fin or a cee)?
It won't cost you a thing,
You'd just be gambling
With self respect and misdemeanor crime
(And perhaps some jail time).
Or will honesty prevail upon you
When no one is watching you?
|Shuffle off to Buffalo
The bison once were as grass across the crest
Of all the plains of the American mid-west
Until shot and wasted by skinners
Who sold only the hides to the corporate sinners.
Now the North American buffalo
Has numbers enough that it will not go
The way of the passenger pigeon.
The buffalo will live on
Due to demand for meat
On buns of North American whole wheat.
|Is it clammy in here?
Why'd you clam up?
I wish't you'd spoke yer mind.
I mean, wha's up?
Are you d' kind?
Has d' herb kept you inside?
Ja wants you outside
Feelin' irie for your fellow
Wahine or kane, bro'.
It's pearl and coral,
It's colonial and it's imperial.
You might be mellow,
Or you might be yellow,
But either way you gotta be
And you...you just gotta live.
The anteater has a hoary tail
About how his stripe belongs in jail.
He'll lick any ant in town.
He'll lick the uncles too.
So now bow down
To the Irvinite of the zoo
That reps the only team in town!
I came across your slime trail
And I wondered about your drive,
Your quests, your travails.
What makes you come alive?
Is it a slow trek under burden
Or a restful day in the garden?
Do you ever come out of your shell?
Do you ever make hell
On a Saturday night?
Or is it just not worth the fight?
Perhaps, some day, our paths will meet
Until then, I hope you go
Safely, my little escargot.
Copyright © 2015 by Joe Pivetti