I gave you the chicken of my dreams

But you just gave me maize.

I dressed him with fine poultry gloves

And stared at him for days.

I strutted through the barnyard

And wore my blackest cloaks –

But you just read St. Augustine

And made medieval jokes.


The Pope who kissed my mother

Was much fatter than the other

Who tittered in faded robes

While the stout one fondled her earlobes.


Burning down the house

I forgot about her blouse

That I left by the fire parade

With the bowling ball charade.

But afterward, the cops

With their integrated crops

Were able to entangle

The fingernail’s angle.

I gave them forty bucks

And a Sirloin Duck Deluxe.


I once dated a shirtless raccoon

Who managed a drink-free saloon

He ran out of peanuts

And ordered three grilled mutts

But his jukebox did not have the tune.


“I’m going to copyright your head,”

Warned the mayor,

Pointing the gun at the cold cuts.

I tiptoed and got him in a headlock.

Staggering, he sputtered three words:

“Meat.  Rice.  Poultry.”

For more strangeness check out my collection Space Command and the Planets of Doom.  “Highly recommended”  “I loved this book”  http://amzn.to/atEZo9