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If society is not integrated

Society will be disintegrated




Nothing comes and goes 

And when it's gone 

We're back here again 

But nothing's here again 

And we don't know it is 

Unless it comes and goes


Rien vient et va 

Et quand il est parti 

Nous sommes encore ici 

Mais rien est bien là 

Et nous ne le savons pas 

À moins qu'il vient et va  


Nichts kommt und geht 

Und als es gegangen sei 

Sind wir noch hier dabei 

Aber nichts doch schon hier streht 

Scheint uns nicht daß es sich dreht   

Wenn nicht es kommt und geht 

(I wrote this in English and it did not rhyme. 

I translated it into French and German and 

it rhymes in those languages.  Go figure! ) 




His rhymes are not flawless 

He misses by far 

His style is lawless 

Close but no cigar 




Dying is part of living 

Loving is part of giving 

Persistence is part of trying 

And living is part of dying



Red Wine in the Evening 


Red wine in the evening disengages my gears 

Red wine in the evening modulates my fears 

Red wine in the evening transitions my day 

Red wine in the evening allows me to say 


Things that I think about all the day long 

Things that I think about that may be wrong 

Things that I think about but never speak 

Things that I think about when I'm feeling weak 


Too weak to lift myself up from that place 

Too weak to fashion a smile on my face 

Too weak to remember how to be strong 

Too weak to sing an old favorite song 


An old favorite song that makes me smile 

An old favorite song I haven't heard for a while 

An old favorite song that makes me feel fine 

An old favorite song like an old favorite wine


My Father's Pen
My father's pen writes fascinating stories
And poems, and haiku, and allegories
And tales of woe, and mysteries
And Proustian prose, and histories
And musings on the meaning of life
And love letters to his now third wife
One children's book with a funny ending
And one on yoga with stretching and bending
And another all about health and nutrition
And even a book on psychic intuition
And three that dealt with room decor
And one huge tome on American folklore
And once he dabbled in science fiction
And he published a pamphlet on proper diction.
He wrote the lyrics to a rock 'n' roll song.
His book on China was 1000 pages long.
He wrote a letter to the editor of The New York Times
About how the police handled certain crimes.  
As a restaurant critic, he mixed his metaphors
And ended up with purloined petits fours.

Blonde Like Me
Not intending to deceive
But merely hide my gray
I bleached my hair from brown to blonde
On one cold winter's day
Though I never lacked attention
I soon discovered that
As a blonde I turned more heads
And often felt stared at
Smiles and favor came my way
More so than before
You don't know what you're missing
'til you become a Clairol® whore



Why do we capitalize "I"?
It makes no sense to me.
I took a survey of my friends,
And me, myself, and I agree.
It's not because it's a one-letter word,
As "a" remains lower case.
It's not because of first-person status,
Since "me" and "myself"' occupy that same space.
So why do we capitalize "I"?
How important can "I" be?
Since you're an "I" and I'm a "you",
It makes no sense to "me."


By Default
Oh, how I like to blame others
That I may remain exalted
It's important to be right
As those around me are faulted



God Loves Me  
That coffee has no calories is proof that God loves me
The lure of chocolate remains His worst joke
On the other hand, laughing burns fat
And I can buy egg whites without the yoke


Without You It's Like
Peanut butter without jelly
Stars with no moon
The button without the belly
A piano out of tune
The boullia without the baisse
The poet without the rhyme
Perry Mason without a case
Or the chef who's out of thyme


Rhyme Over Reason


Head over heels
Blades over wheels
Fair over fear
Joy over tear
Red over blossom
Pink over 'possum
Fork over spoon
Man over moon
Lemon over lime
Date over time
Mind over matter
Words over chatter
Mom over Pop
Scotch over hop
Deal over cards
Fence over yards
Iron over steel
Prayer over meal
Bottom over top
Block over chop
Dark over light
Land over flight
Belly over belt
Heart over felt
Bank over river
Arrow over quiver
Rhyme over reason
Time over season
Hand over fist
Love over tryst



Spilling Over 


I love the unexpected rhyme 

That comes when I commit the crime 


Of spilling over to the next 

Spaced stanza's line of text 


And continue the on-going thought 

Instead of ending where I ought 


I'm no Ogden Nash


Rhymes are not the latest rage 

And though I'm no Ogden Nash 

I persist in putting words to page 

Aware it generates no cash 


To state it simply isn't easy 

Go ahead and try it 

Dash off a ditty, light and breezy 

Just don't expect someone will buy it 




Gary buys a lot of berries 

He thinks he brings home ample 

My job is to wash them 

And on the sly I sample


Rarely do they last long 

I frequently will nibble 

I'm sure he knows I do it 

But he's not one to quibble 



For a Price  


What we've got here is a failure to remunerate

My services don't come cheap

For a price I will communicate 

Prepare to spend a heap 



Count Down 


Now I lay me down to sleep 

To do that I'll be counting sheep 

They've all run off with Little Bo Peep 

I won't, as such, be getting much sleep


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