Out on the farm there lived a pig
he'd spend the day to root and dig.
A firecracker from the sky
came down on him on 4 July.
...
Cool breezes herald the arrival
of neutral sanity among the folks
who pitter patter through the streets
relieved yet ever saddled with
...
In search of crime and criminals
I muster my subliminals.
Write poems, simply, on the run
and wish I had a loaded gun.
...
A fluffy-feathered bird, small,
to some a picture of
great loveliness
and rarest beauty
...
I came to sort a couple things
expecting comfort as of right.
There's family, my sacred blood
surely they'll stand alongside me,
...
In life there are, you know it, those
who'll pluck the most exquisite rose
in selfish greed and place it in
a vase, and, later, in the bin.
...
Two lice were living on the belly
of a good-looking, though quite smelly
Afghani woman in the hills,
they did not have the bathroom frills
...
In Europe, all the feathered friends
get ready when the summer ends
to fly themselves to Italy,
away from winter misery.
...
I walked another endless mile
to spot at last, a crocodile.
Had heard from knowledgeable mates
and Publicans in hot debates
...
There once was a sheila named Tara
on the day that she said 'Sayonara',
she was off on a trip
on a paddlesteam ship,
...