Oh Gert

I’m singin Oh Susannah
Pluckin geetar with my toes
And I’m getting most the melody
By hummin thru my nose
I’m singin Oh Susannah
Even tho your name is Gert
And if you don’t smile a little bit
I feel so awful hurt
Oh Gert Oh Gert
Don’t cry for me.

I don’t come from Alabamy
I don’t come from anywhere
And I need to stop and sit a spell
But my butt can’t take a chair
I’m on my way this evenin
And I’ll be there by tonight
I may be a sight for sore eyes
Or I may just be a sight
Oh Gert Oh Gert
Don’t cry for me.

In fact I got no geetar
Cuz I went and got it lost
And I do not have a nose to hum
Cuz that was frozen off
I can’t recall the melody
Cuz I don’t have a head
I am not exactly livin
But I also ain’t quite dead
Oh Gert Oh Gert
Don’t cry for me.

Quietlees End

The Quietlees lay down to bed
they set their clocks, the sleepy heads
they do not know where they begin
they know their end, again, again.

See their last episode

walking on cars

I had to get to town

That’s where the best shops are

But the traffic was so backed up

And I do not have a car

The traffic was so thick

I couldn’t cross the street

I couldn’t buy the things I want

Or get some food to eat.

I could have stood and waited

I could have called it quits

But I used my imagination

And all my inner wits

I cannot walk on water

A Jesus I am not

But I could walk on top of all the cars

To get to this downtown spot.

I walked on all the cars

It was kind of like a road

They weren’t going anywhere

But I was with my walking mode

I walked from hood to hood

And got there pretty quick

While all those cars stood in their jam

Which never got less thick.

losing and winning

I bought a lottery ticket

The colorful kind that you scratch

But when I did the scratching

The pictures did not match

I was a little depressed

I turned on the TV, bored,

And then I jumped into the air

For I won an Academy Award.

I may have lost the lottery

But I won an Oscar tonight

And that is kind of surprising

Because screenplays I don’t write

Neither am I an actor

Nor do I direct or produce

But I won an Academy Award

And I laughed like a silly goose.

I wasn’t there to accept the prize

I guess that was my mistake

So I turned up my kitchen oven

And baked me a victory cake

I pulled out my acceptance speech

All my thank you’s I started to say

But I didn’t quite get it finished

Because the orchestra started to play.

melting me

The sun and heat are turning all

The ice and snow to puddle

But this warm-up is presenting me

With a strange kind of muddle

The temperatures are higher

Exactly as I was expecting

But not in my expectations?

That I would begin melting.

I thought I must have run too fast

But that liquid wasn’t sweat

My skin and all my clothes

Were absolutely soaking wet

I figured I was melting

When my nose had gotten small

If the forecast calls for warm I’ll lose

My hair, my feet, my all.

The weather for today

Will even worsen my sad mess

If the weatherman is right

By tonight I will be less

If I could get on Oprah's show

This is what I’d say,

“I’ll show you how a little spring

Can melt my pounds away.”

furniture couture

At all the social functions
I’ve always got a chair
And that is so because it is
The thing I like to wear
A table worn for pants
A bookshelf for a shirt
An ottoman for cufflinks
Will almost never hurt
I wear the best of furniture
It fits me to a T
But I tried on all the couches
And none of them suited me.

A day spent at Ikea
That’s where the fashions are
I thought a sofa nicely placed
Would make me look a star
But maybe they were overstuffed
Or had the wrong pillows
But none of them matched my armchair
Or made my complexion glow.


There were so many colors
But all of them were wrong
None of them suited my figure
Or complemented my lampshade sarong
I was going nowhere
I felt completely beat
Until I saw it and I tried it on
My new coat of loveseat

no pome

I’ve been thinking hard as stone

But I don’t have my daily pome

So why don’t you leave me alone

By practicing my pome arts

I did come up with lots of starts

But they all sounded much like farts

Now that the day is nearly here

It is becoming rather clear

You’ll have to stick this in your rear

dreamland woes

I memorized the lines
I rehearsed certain scenes
But even tho I do auditions I
Am rarely in my dreams.


I fall asleep at night
Or wish upon a star
I wonder, as the dream unfolds,
Just who these people are.


Were they at cattle call?
I don’t want to seem a grouch
But sometimes I think my dreams are cast
On some casting couch.


Another dream has ended
And nowhere did I see
In the major roles or extra crowds
A dream role played by me.

i wasn't wanting wednesday

I wasn’t wanting Wednesday

At least this week, this time

If we could skip to Thursday

To me, that would be fine.

If Tuesday was like Egypt

And Thursday, promised land

Wednesday was kind of wilderness

With quagmires of quicksand.

It’s not that I hate Wednesday

Not generally at least

It’s just that this one Wednesday

Could be a kind of beast.

The calendar is steadfast

It won’t give me a break

It looks like this is Wednesday

And I am wide awake.

traffic radio and me

I wake to traffic radio

I’m a morning devotee

But this morning traffic radio

Was reporting about me

I heard the awful news

While I was still in bed

The words of the announcer

Are still spinning in my head

It seems there was a crash

And it was on my arm

So that is why my wrist is

So unusually warm

And then a pile up happened

On the roadway of my leg

Avoid the gawker slowdown

Don’t look at it, I beg!

The traffic is free flowing

On my neck and on my chest

I like when traffic radio

Tells me I’m at my best

Rush hour is almost over

Traffic guy is out the door

I have to hope tomorrow

I won’t still be the detour

my friends

i don't meet my friends in cafes
i don't chat all night in bars
not for me such socializing
for my best friends are all cars


disadvantages? there are some
conversations aren't so deep
i might spill my life in rivers
but the car just says beep beep


such friendships are one-sided
this is terribly clear
i buy my friends their gasoline
but they won't buy me beer


will my friends protect me?
or ease my aching heart?
that depends on their transmission
or whether they will even start.

pome guy

I read this pome the other day

And it was clear to see

That the character in this strange pome

Was someone just like me.

He had my way of walking

And my way of talking too

And he just happened to wear his foot

On the outside of his shoe.

He wore my type of sneakers

He wore my tank top shirt

And when he tripped and fell

We shared exactly the same hurt.

We both had likes and interests

That were pretty much the same

And that pome was written by someone

Who actually had my name.

messed up me

i wear my foot inside my mouth
cause that is where it goes
i keep both my left and right hands
deep inside my nose
i wear my shoes upon my head
i want to start a style
and gather round you people
to see my happy buttocks smile

my hair grows on my kneecaps
and my teeth are on my chin
i am twice as fat as i am
and i'm also twice as thin
friends say i should see a counselor
my mania to surmise
and i wish that i could see one
but my shorts cover my eyes.

after reading the headlines today

guns don't kill people
they kill five
they keep thirty or more
from being alive
it doesn't matter a musket
what you say
each gun killing comes at the hands
of the NRA

at schools or malls
or any other place
guns don't shoot people
in the face
guns don't shoot people
in the head
guns aren't killing
people dead

it's not the guns
it's the NRA
they're the killers
today and yesterday
it's really about time
they
put themselves out of our
misery

lost love pome

I wrote you a lovely love pome

But I left it at the mall

And how that lovely love pome went

I really can’t recall.

I might have rhymed up June with spoon

And maybe cat with splat

But I really can’t remember

Any more of it than that.

I really still do love you

And I’d tell you in a pome

And I actually wrote it

But I don’t have it at home.

master of the obvious

I’m the master of the obvious

I’ll tell you what you know

If a play has gotten good reviews

I’ll call it quite a show

If there is rain or snow or sleet

Or if a tire is flat

I will not mince a single word

I’ll say exactly that.

I’m the master of the obvious

I’ll tell it to you straight

I’ll call a window window

And I’ll call a gate a gate

I will tell you you’re a person

And you’re wearing a pair of shoes

I will tell to you or you or you

The most obvious of news.

I can tell a ceiling from a floor

And a hammer from a horse

About the very obvious

You’d consider me the source

But if you hanker knowledge

That is not so very pat -

I don’t do well with the subtle

So please don’t ask me that.

dream directions

When I fall asleep at night

I go to a certain place

I may not go to Greenland

Or out to outer space

I take a trip to dreamland

But the reality

Is that my dreams have a poor sense

Of geography.

You’d think they’d do some research

Or Mapquest on the net

Cause in my dreams the river’s dry

And all the streets are wet

And talking ‘bout those streets

The names just aren’t the same

And where the bus is running?

My dream says the wrong lane.

My dreams might have the right map

But switch the north for south

If dream isn’t going to get things right

Why won’t it close its mouth?

I’ll start a new dream journey

But I’ll keep in mind the cost;

If I used my dream’s directions I

Would always wind up lost

something to say

I have something to say

But I won’t say it today

I won’t say it on Tuesday

But on Wednesday, well, I may.

I will say it just one time

And it might be quite sublime

If you miss it, know that I’m

Saying it that single time.

I will start with just one word

When I say it, you’ll be lured

If you miss it, be assured

I will not repeat that word.

When I’m finished, I’ll have said

All the statement, every shred

If you miss it, then your head

Will not know the thing I said.

king of comebacks, almost

I’m the ace of snappy comebacks

There are few that are as great

But my greatest comeback drawback:

Mine are almost always late.

He might give me a rude gesture

Or rude language you might speak

I’ll send back a snappy comeback

But it might just come next week.

You might try to get me flustered

Or instill a sense of fear

I will smother you in comeback

But it might not come this year.

Did you say I had a horse face?

Did you say I am a lout?

Just you wait, I’ve got a comeback

But I need to think it out.

I will kill you with the comebacks

Or your sister, or your pappy

But you’ll find that my great comebacks

Aren’t what you might call so snappy.

lingering buger blues

I got myself a buger, and it don’t want to go

And I think that buger might just have a tendency to show

I blow so hard I almost sweat, but my kleenix is clean

I curse, I howl, I wet my pants, and then I even scream

I got those lingering buger blues

From my head down to my shoes.

That buger left on Wednesday, on Thursday, I suppose,

It came back to the back and side and front part of my nose

I even used my finger, but I couldn’t fish it out

I bleat like my old donkey, I vibrate and I shout

I got those lingering buger blues

From my head down to my shoes.

I thought a little dynamite and nitroglycerin

Might make that buger much more out than where it is – in

I lit the fuse, I counted down, the instructions I had read

But the buger stayed inside my nose and I blew off my head

I got those lingering buger blues

From my neck down to my shoes

nettie's knitting brows

They elicit cheers and whispers

And a whole wide range of wows

All the sweaters, scarves and mittens

Knit by Nettie’s knitting brows.

Just above her right and left eye

Just below her straight-line bangs

Are the brows that clothe grandchildren

With the neatest knitted thangs.

Nettie’s brows move rather quickly

Knitting scarves as fast as blinking

She can’t see much while she’s knitting –

I know that’s what you were thinking.

Nettie doesn’t knit with needles

Her brows cannot get that grip

So it is quite the thing to see

Her brows knitting by toothpick.

These days Nettie’s getting older

And her brows are turning gray

But they still can knit a sweater

Tho it might take one more day.

living dead cats

The cats had used up all their lives

They’re scratching at the door

It’s been a while since they’ve eaten

And now they’re wanting more.

They had to dig their bodies out

They’re wanting to be fed -

There’s Ed, Mildred, and Fred and Ned

And they’re the living dead.

The living dead felines are here

I wonder what they eat;

For now they’re licking dirt from

Desiccated claws and feet.

I can’t find the can opener

It’s driving me insane

And I hope that what they’re yearning for

Is not my flustered brain.

I get so crazed and sickened

That I actually vomit

And the cats lap it quite greedily

Before I can get the Comet.

They have returned to my back door

After lives one through nine

And much to my surprise they came

With Ernest Borganine

ashless wednesday

Today is called ash Wednesday

That’s what they call today

But I can’t find around the house

A single full ash tray

I’m looking in the cupboard

I’m looking in the trash

I look and look but I can’t find

A single trace of ash

I don’t know if it’s only

I don’t’ know if it’s most

But try I might I cannot find

A small piece of burnt toast

My forehead is a blank slate

Unless you count that mole

I guess you have to call me just

Another big ash-hole

Pome of loss

I went out to the nightclub

I really liked the bands

But when I got back to my home

I didn’t have my hands

I went out grocery shopping

To get lettuce and meat

I brought home both my grocery bags

But left behind my feet

I went out to have breakfast

Some bacon and some eggs

I remembered to bring back my coat

But left behind both legs

I went to see a movie

The funny ones are best

Good thing I ate my popcorn then

Because now I’ve lost my chest

I better stay around the house

In fact, I’ll remain in bed

The way that this is going

My next trip, I’ll lose my head

bad morning blues

I guess I still was sleepy

Perhaps it was that nagging cough

But I ate a bowl of alarm clock

And turned my oatmeal off.

I tossed and turned the whole night thru

now I feel like such a dope

For I took my bath in the litter box

And fed the cats the soap.

I stayed up well past midnight

And I’m reaping what I sewed

I peed into the orange juice

And drank the whole commode.

Tomorrow is another day

This morning was a waste

For I brushed with my newspaper

And I read all the toothpaste.

Sleep Bookkeeping

I do not dream of islands

I do not dream of sheep

But in the morning I find I’ve often been

Bookkeeping in my sleep.

I’ll wake up in the morning

And find, filled out very well,

A reconciliation

Or a complex P & L.

I don’t sleepwalk to the kitchen

I do not send out sleep-faxes

I’ll sleep-shuffle over to my desk

And sleep-fill out all my taxes.

My sleep-bookkeeper is honest

He’s too sleepy to defraud it

And he passed with flying colors

Our last 3 a.m. sleep-audit.

Cars for Hats

The price of gas is so high these days

It really blows my mind

And that will make me panic

For I am a car-loving kind

It calls for drastic measures

And I think I’m up to that

So I’ve joined the maybe millions who are

Wearing their cars like a hat.

We’re wearing our cars like hats these days

It does take a strong neck

And motor oil dripping down your back?

You have to say, What the heck!

But I need to take my car with me

Wherever I may go

And that is why the latest style

Is to wear a car chapeau.

I’ve got a little import

So I wear it with some ease

But the story isn’t quite the same

For those with SUV’s.

I wish my car had ear muffs

For the coldest days around

But the only muffler it has

Only reduces engine sound.

If I see that you are coming

And I happen to know who you are

I may give you my usual greeting –

A little tip of the car;

But after a day of wearing it

I’m ready for several naps

But such are the trials of those who wear

Their automobiles for caps