MUG SHOT

"Turn to the right!"
Bat the eyes.
"Turn to the left!"

A slight smile.

"Look forward!"

Give a wink.

Pics gotta have some style.

Lost my license years ago.

Passport taken away.

Credit cards don't have no pictures,

They're not mine anyway.

So I got my mug shot taken,

Maw needed a fresh shot of me.

Said the only time she saw me,

Was on "Most Wanted" on TV.

So I smiled for my new picture,

And had it sent her way,

I'm sure she'll put it on the fridge

And look at it each day.

It's all she's got for 7 years,

That's when my sentence is through;

Then I'll get a new one taken,

And send her that one too.

Christmas Hangover

12 weeks of Christmas, now it's over,
What's a man to do?
No more garland, malls with Santa,
Gifts or Cindy Lou.
I miss Bing Crosby on the radio.
I miss hearing Elvis too.
He had a Blue Christmas every year,
Cause he had it without you.
Well now I'm blue in late December;
The past 12 weeks just flew.
What will I do till next October?
I haven't got a clue.
Maybe sleep or bonk my head,
Or sit in front of the tube,
And watch the Grinch 10,000 times
And eat leftover stew.
So Merry Christmas one last time
To you, and you, and you;
I'll be in my room till next October
With the Christmas hangover blues.

High School Drum Line

Last Friday night we had a game,
Everyone in town all came.
To see the Eagles of Dawsonville
Play the Bulldogs of Piney Mill.
It was high school football at its best;
The players spit and bumped their chests,
And held their helmets to the sky,

Glory days under the lights.

At halftime though when snacks were bought,
And thrown t-shirts from cheerleaders caught,
Kisses delivered under the bleachers,
No one left sitting but parents and teachers,
The band came out and marched in lines,
Played their flutes and dinged their chimes.
An awkward crew of 12 young gents
With shaggy hair and saggy pants,
Marched to the front, stood side by side,
Held their drumsticks to the sky,
And beat their snares and clanged their cymbals,
Pounded bass drums, all were nimble.
Gave their all, sweat dripping down,
12 drummers drumming what a sound!

Eleven Pipers Piping

Grandpa Joe liked his pipe,
Smoked 'bout every other night,
Plus the nights laid in between,
More smoke than any fireman's seen.
One Friday all his pals came by,
Oldest crew south of the sky,
Most would soon be checked in heaven,
Plus Grandpa there were eleven.
Lit their pipes and rocked their chairs,
Drank their shine and growled like bears,
Cussed an' hollered an' kept on smokin',
Rambled stories an' all were jokin'.
When the smoke lifted ten were gone,
Grandpa Joe just piped alone.

10 Lords a Leaping

Queen Vashti got a Christmas cake
       and asked, "What's it made of?"
"Coconuts or strawberries, marshmallows or tomatoes?"
But then popped out 10 Lords a leaping,
      one in every piece!
She chased them down and ate all 10
      and now she's quite obese!

Christmas Parade

At the Christmas parade in the town of Holly Pond,
The only thing I really need is one small magic wand,
To clear a path in front of me like Moses and the sea,
And have a perfect view of things that slowly pass by me.
The boys are cheering, the men are hooting, and I can't see a thing,
But rears, and backs, and pockets, and dirty ol' blue jeans.
No one will scoot or slide or share the sidewalk right up front,
I'm in the back with strollers and bags, I feel just like a runt.
From all the yells and all the hoots I know who's now advancing;
It's the buxom, jiggly, scantily dressed nine ladies dancing.
The wives are poking all the men and covering up their eyes;
The young 'ens pupils are dilated, their innocence compromised.
I feel like Zacchaeus without a tree with Jesus walking past,
And all I see is Granny's rumpus, I think she may have gas.
Don't want no teeth or fancy boots or toys nor a football,
All I want this year for Christmas is to grow 'bout six feet tall.

8 Maids a Milking

Wobbly knees and sweaty hands and
Swollen tongue, inflated glands and
Rapid heartbeat, taste buds bland
And world is spinning might crash land.

Eight maids a milking that one cow -
WOW! Not much room for that pow wow;
I almost fell off of my plow;
MEOW! MEOW! This should not be allowed!

OH POO! MY FACE IS TURNING BLUE!
CAN'T BREATH! CAN'T THINK - MY MIND IS GOO!
Must take a swig of Stew's home brew.
And smile and wave and pass on through.

But lo, they turned to wave, the burn,
My head's on fire, my chutter's burned
Disintegrating. . .where's an urn?
To place me in no more to yearn.

Eight maids a milking that one heifer,
A memory stored it's now a lifer.
Would love to make just one my wife or,
Two, or three, or four, or five.

Seven Swans a Swimming

Party's over, going home,

Prop up my feet, relax.

Turn on the tube,

Turn off the phone,

And pour some

Apple Jack's.

And then I'll draw

A bath with bubbles,

Make it piping hot!

Might even shave

Off my stubble -

Today it's grown a lot.

But wait, my plans

Are ruined now,

My tub already filled.

Seven swans a swimming

In my bath,

I think I'm ill.

With bows around

Their necks,

And droppings splattered

On the floor,

Singing loud or honking -

Can't really say for sure.

A note upon my door

Says, "Merry Christmas

My true love!"

But what you may not know,

You lost me at

Two turtledoves!

Six Geese's Layin'

I know you know I like the eggs,
Both scrambled, poached, an' fried.
An' last December I ate so many
I very nearly died.
I like 'em runny, crispy, white,
yellow, browned, an' boiled,
But this here gift you gave to me
Has really got me spoiled.
Six geese a layin' all day long,
I just foller 'em 'round,
With my fork an' with some salt,
An' with a sausage pound.
You've won my heart, my stomach too,
Let's tie the knot together.
A gift like this means the world to me;

Let's be yolked forever.

Melancholy Mormon

Mistakes are made that is no doubt,
But a wife I couldn't live without.
One golden ring then I was wed;

One lovely wife lay in my bed.

If one be good, shan't two be grand?

A second wife then held my hand.

Why not more, don't you agree?

If two be good, then how 'bout three?

Our life was full, but I got bored,

So next came matrimony four.

I must confess I should have ceased.

My house no longer held the peace.

But then I saw a lovely maid

My other wives stood in her shade.

Stop?  No sir, I've but one life.

I made that maiden my fifth wife.

Five golden rings, five wedded hands.

Five wives for this one Mormon man.

Oh Solomon, David, Jacob too,

Why didn't I listen to the three of you?

And take one wife and never more,

But no, I added another four.

Do they cook?  No.  Do they clean?

No, they just argue, shop, and scream.

My money's gone; I just can't cope.

What's on t.v.?  That's right, soaps.

No steak.  Just salads and hot tea.

They make me walk outside to pee.

They're on the phone, computer too.

Buying dresses and fancy shoes.

Pinterest, facebook, etsy, blogs,

Lace and flowers, pumps and clogs.

Oh, the horror, ouch the sting!

Why'd I buy five golden rings?!?

Four Callin' Birds

Midnight, breakfast time, supper, and lunch.
I know who's callin' - it's more than a hunch.
If they were here their toes I'd crunch.
Or maybe give their beaks a punch.

It's Christmas Eve - who has the nerves?
To phone besides those calling birds?

All four the same, they know no bounds
They called my cousin and then his hounds.
They'll call from home; they'll call from town.
They'll call a king; they'll call a clown.

Next year for Christmas please refrain.
From gifts that drive a man insane.

French Hens?

I know what you're gettin' me -
I heard!

No grill or ammo -

But birds!

It's absurd.

Don't have the words.

I'd even settle

For a fake rubber turd.

French hens?

Why not American?

Or even Canadian?

An eagle or hawk

Or falcon, a peregrine.

A gas card for my truck maybe.

It takes 100 gallons

To get down the street.

Some camo sheets,

Some skeet,

Boots for my feet.

Bug spray with DEET.
Green paint for my skin.
Razor for my chin.
But why the heck
Would you buy me French hens?

Guess I could shoot 'em.

Second Day of Christmas.

Holly berries, egg nogged brains,
Mistletoes on candied canes,
Santa sledding Christmas Lane

With snow drops in his beard.

Merry, jolly, happy times,

Elves are drinking from their steins,

Cheeks of Mrs. Clause sure do shine,

Jack Frost will soon be here.

Christmas closer every hour,

Jovey singing in the shower,

Snow forts, bunkers, and snow towers,

This special time of year.

Striped red socks and thoughts of green,

Naughty list with Charlie Sheen,

Joyful smiles like Mr. Bean,

And antlers on reindeer.

All makes sense this happy season,

No questions now just thoughts of reason,

Naked cowboy is now freezin',

Though one thing is unclear.

I know you runneth over love,

You hug and kiss, you do not shove,

How 'bout a hat or even gloves?

What the H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS?  TWO TURTLEDOVES?!?

First Day O' Christmas

Yes, it's that time again, been waitin' a year;
Hadn't done that much, just sat on my rear.
Could have read a book, or visited friends.
Could have learned the banjo, or cleaned up the den.
The yard needs a rakin', the kitchen cleaned,
My room's a bit messy, should wash up my jeans.
But all I could think about was gettin' a prize,
Just give me a present, I'll shut my eyes
And hold out my hands, and count up to ten.
Slowly unwrap it, you'll notice my grin.

It's the first day of Christmas? Look under the tree?
That beautiful present and it's all just for me?
It looks mighty big, oh what can it be?
I'll open it now, and then we will see.
I'm ripping it open, it looks like a pear tree?
With a bird in it, a partridge maybe?

I don't understand.  This seems a bit queer.
I'll sit right back down and wait till next year.

A Long Poem

I wish this poem would write itself 'cause my hand's a wee bit tired.
My eyes are heavy, the TV's loud, my mind's a little fried.
It's taking hours to write each letter; each sentence is taking days.
It's been three weeks from when I started and it doesn't fill a page.
A year has passed, my family left, the house is getting dusty;
My beard is long, my hair is gone, my pen is getting rusty.
Can't quite remember when I started, or what I've really said;
Guess I'll finish - I see a light!  OK, that's it.  I'm dead.

The Sweetest Name

To my sweet Jane,
You've sure got the prettiest name
Better than Tina, May, or Elaine
Drops on my ears like rain
Rattles me like a freight train
Saying it ignites my inner flame. . .


What?!? Your name is Loofus?

I sure feel like a doofus!

Thrift Store

There's a world to explore inside a thrift store -
From snow skis, clock radios, a shell from the shore;
Puzzles galore though not always complete,
Playing soccer this year?  Then look for some cleats.
Shirts from the 80's, pants red in color,
There's a purse for your sister, cassette tape for brother.
Your mother would like that jacket with feathers;
Your father that straw hat for shade from the weather.
Pencil sharpeners, crutches, picture frames and toys,
Toys, toys, toys, for little girls and boys.
Lamps and love seats, overalls and shoes,
Fishing poles and dinner plates, a cookbook for stews.
Autographed picture of Richard Simmons,
Yellowed undergarments for both fellas and women.
Books upon the shelves reaching up to the ceiling,
If you're looking for specifics then stay through evening.
Wet suits, bow ties, softball uniforms,
Velvet portraits of rainbow unicorns.
Hockey pucks, tweezers, clown noses, and chairs,
ATARIS, fish tanks, and lots of cookware.
It's closing time now and not a thing in my cart,
Can't find what I want, well there's always Wal-Mart.

Ms. Verna Croft

Ms. Verna Croft was a little off;
She kept her socks in the bookcase
And her wine in the loft.
Every night she slept in the closet,
And kept her t.v. on the john,
When she had to go and potty,
She went out and sprayed the lawn.
Her clothes were folded neatly;
They were then placed on the stairs.
She walked up to get her nightgown,
Back down for her underwear.
She hung her pictures on the ceiling
And her fans were on the walls.
Her telephone was in the Frigidaire
So she could make cold calls.
She put her doorbell on the inside
And her carpet in the yard.
She put her cellar in the attic,
Which was really rather hard.
She parked her car in the kitchen,
Her remote control was in the sink.
Her daughter Clara Belle wore blue;
Her son Rufus P. wore pink.
She put Pepsi in her cereal
And ate her soup with a sock.
Her watch was on her nightstand
And on her wrist was a clock.

When she died she was buried

In a cemetery grave,

But climbed out to lay on top
And give all passerby's a wave.

"Head West Young Man"

Heard that saying years ago,
It inspired me I must say.
I grabbed my boots and packed a bag,
Then I was on my way.
I crossed my state of Alabama,
Crossed Mississippi too;
Louisiana came up next
And I trudged that ol' bayou.
I passed Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona,
Went all the way to the Pacific.
Couldn't stop 'cause I was headin' West,
And it sure felt terrific.
Grabbed a boat and paddled on,
Not sure where I was then -
Some distant land with stranger talk,
I just waved and grinned.
Stayed the course - kept headin' West
Over many waters and lands,
Westward back to Alabama -
Now I'm a happy man.

Uncle Earl

Uncle Earl was practically dead.
He couldn't even lift his head.
His skin was pale his eyelids red,
"Won't last a day!" the doctor said.

So sweet Petunia meek and little
Came to visit with her fiddle.
Thought she'd play ol' Earle a diddle,
To cheer him up, that man so brittle.

With lifted bow she smiled at Earl.
She was his niece that little girl.
She curtsied once and did a twirl;
Brushed her face to move a curl.

She screeched the bow across the strings;
Ol' Earl let out a deafening scream,
Pulled his wires and needles and things,
And ran out the door no more to be seen.

My Pet Pterodactyl

My friend John's a falconer
But I'm a pterodactyl-er

A falcon's just too small you see

But a dino-bird's just right for me

Perched on my arm he is quite heavy

So now he perches on my Chevy

He flies around and comes right back

And when he does he gets a snack

I taught him how to hunt for deer

And on occasion he'll bring a steer

But last week I had to let him go

Cause he flew back with my son Joe

Black Hole

Maw said to keep away from snakes and cliffs and trolls
But she never mentioned nothin 'bout playing near black holes
So my gal and me found one - and she peeked inside first
Now I'm single again, but I guess it could be worse.

A Drink with a Tecolote

Worked hard all summer sweated lots left early came home late
From dawn till dusk plus hours more and rarely ever ate
So when the fall came headed up to the bar atop the hill
'Twas Buck's Saloon where heathens met and drank from 'ol Buck's still
Dusty cowboys, minin' men, outlaws, and ill-reputers
Ain't never seen a coat or tie there cell phones nor computers
Sat down right on a vacant stool, bellied up to ol' Buck's bar
There sat a feller quiet sort lookin' down his mason jar
Told him stories of my work my toils and endless days
How I'd labored hard and earned my keep despite my wage
Held out my hands and showed him callouses, scars, and dirty nails
Showed off my boots worn to the soles felt I had been through hell
And then that cowboy raised his head and turned it fully round
He had no beard but lots of feathers and then he made a sound
With eyes of yellow and mighty large my attention was acute
He said, "Son, please quit talking cause I don't give a hoot!"

Mr. Idealist

The morrow will be a perfect day,
No rain, just sun, we all will play.
A job will fall down from the sky;
I'll find some gold while eating fries.
The kids will sleep all through the night.
I'll wake refreshed at day's first light.
Our neighbors will invite us over,
They'll cook us steak; we'll get leftovers.
The trees will bud; the birds will sing.
We'll have fresh honey without one sting.
Twelve cards of love will be in the mail,
Good news all day, we'll feel quite swell.
My warts will vanish and nails will shine,
Our city water will turn to wine.
My teams will win, my teeth turn white,
A breeze will blow; we'll fly a kite.
I'll write a song and publish a story,

Become a rock star filled with fame and glory.

Stocks will rise, gas prices fall,

TOMORROW IS CANCELLED?  Well, blast it all!

Date With a Werewolf

Al met a girl cute as a button
He asked her out one day.
She said she'd better not
But as he begged she said OK.
Washed his car and shaved his face,
Bought some chocolates and flowers.
Ironed his pants and darned his socks,
Must have taken six showers.
Everything seemed perfect as he knocked upon her door,
Sun was setting,
Birds were chirping,
Couldn't ask for more.
He parked on Lover's Mountain
And he got out his guitar.
Strummed his sweet a song or two
They gazed up at the stars.
Then the moon it was quite full
Beamed down upon the gal.
Her hair grew thick, her teeth grew long.
She then began to howl.
You may not want to know the rest,
I'm sure you have a hunch,
But if you ask a werewolf out
Make sure it's just for lunch.

A Road Traveled Less

Uncle Bobby Frost sent me

Out for some milk and corn.

He said I'd come to a fork in the woods

And to take the path less worn.

So I set out on my errand,

And obeyed Uncle Bobby Frost.

I took the road less traveled,

And doggone it I think I'm lost!

Grocery Shopping

OK, let's see. . .
Got my list and a clean buggy.
Corn check, pork chops, yes,
Paper towels to clean up our mess,
Black beans, baked beans, pintos, limas,
Chicken, ham-hock, Aunt Jamima,
Noodles, sauce, both red and white,
Milk, 3 gallons, cookies, rice,
Bread and butter, jelly, beer,
Beets, Q-tips for my ears,
Lettuce, sprouts, cereal, chips,
Cheese, juice, avocados, dip,
Celery, bananas, apples, pears,
Soothing ointment for ingrown hairs,
Floss and toothpaste, shampoo, soap,
Watermelon, Pepto, and 2 cantaloupes,
Ice cream, pizza, cornbread, honey,
"HORSE FEATHERS!!! I forgot my money!"

Belly Itcher

We needed a pitcher

But not one was found

We had to get someone

To stand on the mound

We found a first baseman
And even a coach

We had a left-fielder

His nickname was Roach

We had all but one

One spot left to fill

We asked Hank and Lo-Lo

And Todd, Burt and Jill

All hope was then lost

On getting a pitcher

We gave up the search and. . .
Hired a belly itcher.

What It's All About!

That Tokey Milokey

He thinks he knows all

Sleeps each day in class

Wakes up to play ball

Doesn't care about Science
Or Reading or Math

If you ask him 'bout History

He'll sit there and laugh

He's not worried about Religion

Or politics or fruit

Don't ask him to shower

He won't give a hoot

He knows the MEANING OF LIFE

And he has NO DOUBT!

He does the Hokey Pokey
That's what it's all about.

Plane Ride

Started out in Birmingham
Things seemed pretty tame,

Stewardess went through the rules

She smiled and said her name.

Belt was buckled luggage stowed

Pilot said, "Let's Go!"

Wheels let go of earth and then

All norms were out the door.

We entered in a puffy cloud

With hues of green and yellow,
I looked over and saw a cow
Where once there was a fellow.
The sky was filled with flying things
Like saucers, dragons, parrots,
Frisbees, fish, ice cream bars,
Pigeons, pants, and carrots.
The stewardess then brought our drinks
Mine with bubbles and smoke,
She turned and walked back down the aisle
Wearing a long black cloak.
I downed my drink in seconds flat
The plane did wiggles and flippies,
Everybody ralphed except me. . .
And John from Mississippi.
We landed on the planet Mars
Had lunch with little green men,
Then flew back home to Birmingham
Can't wait to fly again.

Minstrel Cyclist

He comes to town 'bout once a month

Upon his unicycle,

Playing the flute and singing ballads
I think his name is Michael.
But just don't interrupt his tales
'Bout kings and Queens of old,
Although he's dressed in tights and lace

He'll punch you in the nose.

Snow'd In

Phoneline's down,

Water's froze,

Power's off,

Stuffy nose,
Dog is missing,
Rabbit's stiff,
Car is buried,
Fell off a cliff,
Out of wood,
Roof is leaking,

Kids are cranky,

Wife's not speaking,

Trees have fallen,

So did I,

Broke my arm

And neck and thigh,

Out of propane,

Out of bread,

Out of milk,

Out of my head.

Stuck inside

In layered clothes,

All that aside. . .

I love the snow!

Wad of Chaw

Ain't never seen the likes of Barry Paul

That boy from Hot Springs, Arkansas

Could hold a wad inside his jaw

'Twiced the size of Tatum's maw

He don't spit just lets it fall

Right down his chin and pants an' all

Never did see 'em without his chaw

Until the preacher got him thinkin'

So he gave up chewin'. . . but started drinkin'

CUSSER NO MORE!

My brother Ralphy Russer

Was quite the little cusser
Whether home or school or bus or
With his sister, aunts, or us, or. . .

He knew every bad word known to man

Like @#% or /&%#@ or *%#@ or *%&$

He even said +*%* to Uncle Sam

And *%^$ and *%&$ to Martha Ann

But now he doesn't cuss a bit

His rump is sore can't even sit

My Paw would have no more of it

What? Paw wants to see me, "OH $#}+!"

The Outlaw Spit McGraw

No one sat next to Spit McGraw.
Everyone knew he was a wanted outlaw.
Meanest man in Arkansas.
Some folks said he didn't love his maw.
He had arms of steel, was really tall.
Made Paul Bunyon look mighty small.
Could look at a glacier an' make it thaw.
Wrestled a bear and ate its claw.
Beat up a lion chewed off its paw.
Broke in an outhouse, graffiti'd the stall.

One thing about him, his one little flaw,

One thing 'bout Spit that made us all
Hold back our snickers and all our hee-haws. . .

Ol' Spit drank whiskey through a straw!

Sidesaddle Sally

Sidesaddle Sally grew up in Cali
Near the Great Valley of Yosemite.
Before she was grown her parents left home,
They sailed off to Rome and left Sally to be.

She climbed all the mounts and swam the great founts,
Used up every ounce of her young energy.
Decided a horse was the answer of course,
Caught one by force and rode it a week.

By then it was broke, then Sally she spoke
To the horse she called Oak, from Yosemite.
"Yore the best horse around, I'm glad you I found,
Let's ride into town and see what we see."

They trotted and clamped into old Angel's Camp,
Filled with gruff mining tramps, outside the valley.
The crowds they did form; this horse was abnorm,
Her name was thus formed - "Sidesaddle Sally!"

The Yeller Pianer

I might be a lousy shot, an' I cain't ride no horse,
Ain't never downed a shot of whiskey, but one thang is for shore.
Ever night 'bout ten O'clock I venture to Buck's Saloon
Sit right down at the yeller pianer and belt out a real nice tune.

All the gals an' all the boys will hoot and holler an' cuss,
An' look at me an' all will say, "Yore a better cowboy than us!"
I'll sang, "I ain't scared of this pianer but this pianer's scared o' me,
It used to be black till I sat down, now it's yeller as can be!"

An everyone from here to Texas'll say I'm the best around,

No one will mess with me for shore unless one little secret is found.

One small thang that no one knows from here to the Mexican border,

This yeller pianer sounds real nice, but only if you deposit a quarter.

Had a Date with a Suckerfish

I had a date with a suckerfish
It went fairly well - until
I gave her a kiss when I dropped her off,
And I'm standing on her doorstep still!

Expired Cowboy

Them buzzards been circlin' fer days,
Sure wish they'd be on their way.
Been lyin' here gazin' up,
Just wonderin' who's their sup?
Tried tossin' up some rocks,

But my arms they must be locked.

Tried screamin' and a yellin',

But my voice it must be failin'.

Tried to just git up and scoot,

But my legs ain't worth a toot.

My toes are numb, my ears don't work,

My mouth is dry but nothin' hurts.

So why are these buzzards circlin' my head?

Oh wait just a sec, that's right - I'm dead!

Professor Lou Answers Cindy Sue

Cindy Sue passed Professor Lou
And said, "May I ask a question of you?"
He stopped and whimpered and turned quite blue,
Looked down and snorted, "OH NOT YOU TOO!?!
Then Professor Lou began to fume -
"I just don't know I'm quite confused,

Is the earth 10 billion or fairly new?

Did we evolve from a bubbling stew?

Is there a God, I wish I knew?

And what will happen at the last?
Will we evaporate or turn to gas?

Or Jesus come and heal the mass?

I really don't know, but go on ask!"


Then Cindy Sue said to Professor Lou,
"All that sounds just fine and dandy,
But I really just wanted a piece of candy."

Climbing Trees

Oh my oh me I think I see

That crazy kid Brody McGee.

Way up high up in that tree,

That tall Magnolia of Ms. Bodene's.

Just like a monkey except one thing,

He's not as smart or as pretty,

But he doth climb quite routinely

Up birches, pines, and Christmas trees.

Up oaks, redwoods, and concrete knees,

And vats of aged giant blue cheese

And dragon wings and real tall swings

And thrones of queens and other things.

So if you see him climbing round,

Please tell that boy to come back down.