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.
...
I came to sort a couple things
expecting comfort as of right.
There's family, my sacred blood
surely they'll stand alongside me,
...
A fluffy-feathered bird, small,
to some a picture of
great loveliness
and rarest beauty
...
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.
...
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
...
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
...
There once was a sheila named Tara
on the day that she said 'Sayonara',
she was off on a trip
on a paddlesteam ship,
...