Mr. White

Mr. White was a blank slate,

A hole in the spectrum,

In his spotless white suit and white shoes and white house

At One-Twenty-Three White Street just off Off-White Lane,

Mr. White lived a life that was crisp, starched and plain.

But behind all that white,

Back behind the white whiteness,

A breathtaking masterpiece hidden from sight.

He felt splashes of colors, bold strokes in bright hues,

He felt greens, he felt yellows, deep reds and sad blues.

Mr. White was a painting,

A rich, colorful canvas,

An intricate portrait no one ever saw.

You see, poor Mr. White, was not white, not really -

Just a canvas, hung backward, his paint to the wall.

Lost Thought

Tonight while having a deep think
I tipped my head to sip my drink
And as I did my thought slipped out my ear.

It rolled across the hardwood floor,
Continued right out my back door
And I have lost that thought for good I fear.

It's such a shame, if I may say,
To lose one's well-thunk thought that way.
To have a thought fall right out of your head.

If only I could get it back,
But life's sometimes unfair like that
And so I think I'll just go on to bed.

The Man in the Desert

I met an old man as I walked through the desert,
As I walked through the desert I met an old man.
In a tired straw hat
And a pair of worn sandals,
That carried him over an ocean of sand.

I said to him "Sir, it's a pleasure to meet you."
"It's a pleasure to meet on this fine sunny day."
But my greeting was met
With a stare and a silence,
He passed me and wordlessly went on his way.

I still travel the trail that cuts through the desert.
I still walk the path that winds through the sand.
I wonder whatever

Became of that stranger,
That stoic, that sun-chapped, that weathered old man.

The Fly in My Eye

I have a fly
That is caught in my eye
It's the biggest fly I've ever seen

He's hairy and blue
And he's blocking my view
And he's staring at me kind of mean

I've tried pulling and prying

And winking and crying

And jumping on a trampoline

But that fat, stubborn fly

Is stuck fast in my eye

And I can't seem to intervene

To Be a Bee With Allergies

To be a bee with allergies,

The endless sounds of buzz... buzz... sneeze.

Hour after loathsome hour,

Toiling within wretched flowers.

Oh, the bitter irony...

To be a bee with allergies.

One Gnu Too Few

I won an old gnu

Which was one gnu too few

One less gnu than I knew I would need.

But I'll try to make due

With this one lonesome gnu

'Til the day I can have two or three.

Little Shoeless Boy

Little shoeless boy
Throwing stones at the sky,
Only he knows what he's aiming for
And only he knows why.

I Have an Elephant Stuck in My Ear

I have an elephant stuck in my ear

It's squeezed in so tight I can barely hear
Just how it got there's not entirely clear
But it's there nonetheless and it feels rather weird
Now I'm fully aware that my quandary sounds queer
But you must understand that I'm being sincere
When I tell you an elephant's stuck in my ear
I'm sure my predicament's quite severe

This sort of thing's always been my biggest fear
I need a good doctor or engineer
Who can figure out how to make it disappear
Maybe pull from the trunk, or push from the rear
But please, someone, please get it out of my ear!

The Bumbling, Grumbling Shumble

In the corner of my garden
Underneath a stepping stone,
A bumbling, grumbling shumble
Makes his solitary home.
Though he's never caused me trouble
I suggest you keep away,
For that bumbling, grumbling shumble's
Always having a bad day.

Unknown Beauty

She was filled to the tip top
With delicate things,
Like dandelion blossoms
And butterfly wings.
But she never knew love,
Just the withering sting
Of rejection...

Her beauty not easily seen.

The Last Man in the World

He walks through a desolate wasteland alone,
A fistful of daisies in hand.
He's not sure where he's going, forgot where he's been
He just aimlessly wanders the sand.
He belongs to no country, religion or creed
Adrift, the last man in the world.
And although it seems crazy, he clutches those daisies,
Just hoping to find the last girl.

The Extraordinary Disappearance of a Good Hat

By some quirk of nature,
By some twist of fate,
A hole opened up in time and in space
And before I could grab it
My hat blew right through it
And vanished without a trace.

Did it jump to the future
Or back to the past?
I have no way of knowing just when it is at
So I'm standing here, waiting
Confused and debating
If I should go buy a new hat.

The Gum That Time Forgot

As I was strolling down the sidewalk

On this pleasant summer day,
I was the victim of a thoughtless act
Much to my own dismay.
I felt a gooey, sticky squish

Under the sole of my new shoe.
It was a chewed up glob of bubble gum

That I had stepped into.

And though I'd like to have a few words

With the one who chewed and spit it,
Logically, I know I must move on
'Cause I shall soon forget it.
You see, it's times like these that one must pause,
And learn to be reflective.
An incident like this should really be

Put in proper perspective.

Yes, I'm sitting here, picking at
This gum that isn't mine.
But I know man is insignificant
When viewed through the lens of time.
All of mankind and all we ever did
Will be forgot one day.
Our legacy, our history,

Broken down and washed away.

And now I'd like to take a moment

To expand your world view.
For planet Earth is just a morsel

Floating in a cosmic stew.
Our solar system's swallowed up
By an enormous galaxy.
Yes, our whole world is but a tiny speck
Lost in an endless sea.

We are adrift in time, adrift in space,
Our lives so meaningless.
And when you understand that fact

It just seems so ridiculous
To give a second thought,

About a wad of gum stuck on a sole.
It is a pointless exercise

That fails to appreciate the whole.

But though I know how unimportant
This tiny moment will become,
I admit it's not much consolation

As I sit here scraping gum.

The Hole

He stepped into his sandbox
Just before the crack of dawn
A young spelunker in pajamas
Rubbed his eyes and gave a yawn

He tied a coil of knotted rope
Tightly 'round an old oak tree
He donned a backpack full of snacks
And he gazed down at destiny

And then he knelt and started digging
With a silver serving spoon
That he had taken from the kitchen drawer
The previous afternoon

He tossed the sand over his shoulder
As he made a boy-sized dent
In the bottom of his sandbox
Down and down and down it went

And after only half an hour
He had disappeared from sight
He was deep inside his tunnel
Heaving dirt with all his might

He dug a shaft into the darkness
Carved a hole that plunged straight down
He dug through dirt and rocks and clay
As he dug deeper underground

He dug past long forgotten artifacts
Cast off by early man
He dug through fossilized remains
Of dinosaurs and ancient lands

He dug past sedimentary layers
And through igneous ones, too
He broke right through the Earth's thin outer crust
By early afternoon

He made quick work of the soft mantle
Although his arm was getting sore
He just kept digging with that silver spoon
Until he reached the core

And at the center of the Earth
He paused to eat a little snack
He drank some juice and then continued
His unstoppable attack

He just kept digging, digging deeper
Burrowing through the world wide
He planned to dig right through the planet
And break through the other side

Surely no hole was ever deeper
It was really quite a sight
When he looked up through his handiwork
He saw a speck of light

But when he finally reached the bottom
As he neared the last few feet
He heard those dreaded words call down the hole
"Young man, it's time to eat!"

Topsy-Turvy World

Things can get a little mixed up
When you're spinning 'round and 'round
Sometimes it's hard to know where up is
Until you have found the down.
When left is right and straight is crooked
And the world feels outside in
Just close your eyes and clear your head
And try your best to start again.

Deal With the Devil

An old cowboy rode into town
On a worn out horse with his head held down.
Stepped into a tavern
On a dusty, windswept,

Unforgiven street.

One last chance was all he had
'Cause things had really turned out bad.
And he sat down at a table

Dealing endless hands of stud.

That night, a cowboy came for blood.

Across the table, bathed in red
Sat the Devil, horns upon his head
A stack of chips
And a wicked, rotten smile.

The Devil looked like he'd been there awhile.

Confident the cowboy

Slid his chips into the pot.
Looked at his cards

And he felt his face grow hot.
But times were tough and he'd had enough
He bet his soul, and Red called his bluff.
And when the cards fell
The Devil laughed

And swished his pointy tail.

Can't take it back, once you go all in.
Sometimes there's just no way a man can win.

The Devil lit a fat cigar
He laid the contract on the bar.
And Old Scratch let out a chuckle
Through a toothy yellow grin.
And then

The cowboy looked him square in the eye
And he signed his name with a tired sigh.
He had no choice
And now his fate was sealed.

Someday the Devil would collect his due.
But what else could a beaten cowboy do?

He Wears a Mask

Concealed and exposed
Walks through a world
That no one knows
He wears a mask
Tied 'round him for eternity

A blessing and a curse
Defines the best
Reveals the worst
Becomes the only him
That he's allowed to be

Modern Man

He leaned back in his kitchen chair

Until he found the razor's edge

A dance choreographed in millimeters

And for a brief moment

He was transformed...

Daredevil

Thrill seeker

And he found himself
in the open cockpit of a WWI plane,
taking fire...

And then he was twisting the throttle
of a sleek black motorcycle,
coming out of a hairpin turn...

And he was taking a step to the left
as an arrow whistled harmlessly past his ear...

And he was breathlessly willing the dealer
to turn over the ten of spades...

And he was hiding in the brush,
downwind from a pride of lions...

And he was holding a machete high in the air,
pausing briefly before the downswing...

And he was locking eyes
with a mysterious redheaded woman...

And he was releasing a Molotav cocktail...

And he was standing on the edge of a canyon trail,
staring into a deep ravine...

And he was squeezing the trigger
of a large-caliber revolver...

For a split second,
he felt the thing men have always felt
as they taste the salty blood of life...

And then, his morning ritual complete

He leaned forward, slowly and deliberately

Carefully letting the chair legs down to the floor

And he finished his oatmeal

In silence

And tried not to drip any on his necktie

The Frog

Clinging awkwardly to a damp log
Spends his hopless days in the bog

Swimming in circles
Lost in a fog

Such is life for a one-legged frog.