The following poems are a change of pace blog, hopefully to elicit a smile after a busy day.
Bathing in the Sun
Bathing in the sun, they say, is really good for you.
It’s something, they say, you should make a point to do.
Ultraviolet light, they say, makes your vitamin D,
and vitamin D is needed if healthy you would be.
The test of a great vacation, they say, is baking in the sun.
So you can return home brown, make sure both sides get done.
What would they say or think if you came home white?
You’ve wasted your vacation; you’re really not too bright.
So spread your blanket on the beach or out beside the pool,
even though it’s sizzling hot, being brown sure looks cool.
Don’t spoil your vacation by thinking about damage done
to your skin and to your eyes from the blazing sun.
Lather on the lotion and wear those real cool shades,
drink some bottled water or some lemonade.
Never mind that shades and lotion are not good enough
to screen all the rays that cause old skin and cancer stuff.
Why not tan your retina like your dermis.
Crank up the rays just like you would a furnace.
Your vacation was expensive but was well worth the cost.
Its effects will be permanent even when the tan is lost.
Melanoma and cataracts will remind you of vacation days.
Wrinkled and brown skin are worth the price you paid.
While you deal with consequences of sunny vacations
why not plan your next one now, make your reservations.
Book the doctor’s office and hospital clinic,
because you would not believe the warnings of a cynic.
Sex is Unknown
Sex is unknown to the paramecium.
Amebas and euglenas are really too dumb .
Virus don’t use it and couldn’t care less,
and without it bacteria have great success.
But humans need it, or so I’ve been told.
It’s considered to be worth much more than gold.
There is an exception if you have any doubt.
It’s taught in churches by the devout.
They claim she got pregnant some other way.
Just how it was done they really can’t say.
When I was young I thought it was true;
I believed the story, what else could I do?
But now that I am older and wiser too,
I’ve studied biology, I know it’s not true.
I’ll need more proof before believing in tales,
about babies that come without using males.
Notice his limp or hear his cough?
His ailments are many, but at them don’t scoff.
His back is stiff, his elbow sore;
his knee swollen, his eyesight poor.
He stomach is upset, he can’t stand much more.
His ailments are many, they’re hard to ignore.
He should be in bed taking pills;
relieving diarrhea; curing his ills.
In spite of his ailments he insists on playing
the championship match instead of delaying.
He’s running a temperature, he’s not up to par.
Three out of five? He can’t go that far.
I don’t have to play hard to beat this poor guy.
I’ll have this match won without half a try.
I’ll soon be the champ and get the gold cup
in just a few minutes, it’ll be hard to screw up.
The first game was close; I can’t figure it out.
He won by a point, ’twas a fluke, no doubt.
The second game ended the same as the first!
I’m not playing well; it seems like I’m cursed.
In the third game I fought hard as I could
but he played better, he just was too good.
All of his aches and all of his pains,
all of his illness and all of his strains
were really a ruse to catch me off guard,
inflating my confidence, so I wouldn’t play hard.
When will I learn to not be misled?
When will I learn to be cautious instead?
When will I learn that to win in this world
I must wave my flag and not leave it unfurled?
So when you compete here’s something to know,
Never, but never, underestimate a foe?
Don’t be a loser and don’t be unkind,
but don’t get yourself kicked in the behind.
The armchair quarterback contemplates the past
and our poor decisions he just loves to blast.
His secondary wisdom is a marvel to behold,
your mistakes and mine he has conspicuously retold.
He marvels at his wisdom and his perfect calls,
and ridicules our mistakes and our brains so small.
He analyzes what he claims was right before our eyes
and wonders how we jerks could be so unwise.
His judgements on all matters are perfect as can be.
He never makes mistakes as far as he can see.
I marvel at this prophet of events already done
and wonder to myself if he were born this dumb.
Lots of Corn
Ever since the day I was born
I’ve eaten lots and lots of corn.
I eat corn for breakfast I eat corn for lunch.
I eat it for dinner too. I like its crunch
in the bowl and on the cob. I like it as a spread
in the form of butter slathered on my bread.
Most of all I like to fry other food in its oil
bubbling, spattering, sizzling while it boils.
I don’t like it when it’s in a rancid state but
I love it when it congeals on my dinner plate.
It creates the free radicals I so dearly love.
It fattens up my body both below and above.
Fatty food gives me energy and makes me so ferocious.
It also gives me diabetes and athrosclerosis.
I’ll eat corn until I die if I have my way.
I hope I live long enough to eat another day.
When looking for the missing link,
it’s never where we usually think.
I’m told it looks something like me
and something like a chimpanzee.
I’ve heard it often has been found
by paleontologists, in the ground.
But, when its missing place is filled,
those who found it still are grilled
about the links before and after
that still are missing. What disaster!
Tracing far back our family tree
a primate lived who gave rise to me.
She lived so many years ago,
her true birthday we’ll never know.
I’m so glad that she stayed alive,
to begat enough that did survive,
so I could arrive upon the scene,
a hundred percent human-being.
Tinkle, Tinkle Little Bladder
Tinkle, tinkle little bladder
how I wonder what’s the matter.
Tests show PSA is high,
I wonder why it’s high. Oh my!
My doctor tells me not to worry
about not peeing in a hurry.
And waking up three times at night?
I’d rather pee when it’s light.
Should I worry about my prostate
and the problems it might create?
If it decides some more to grow,
should I take saw palmetto?
In my youth this gland worked well.
On how I used it, I won’t dwell.
But now that I am old and gray,
I wish it would just…go away.
The Archaeopteryx is fictitious, shall I tell you why?
It doesn’t fit into God’s plan; it’s just a secular lie.
Fossils found all over the world are not the missing links.
As I was taught in church, evolution theories stink.
I can’t let facts get in the way when I read my bible.
I can’t let science confuse me; it’s simply secular libel.
How do scales turn into feathers, a beak evolve from teeth?
How can legs turn into wings? The concepts cause me grief.
As I lay me down to sleep, I hope I don’t have dreams
of flying reptiles with feathers and teeth, animals so extreme.
The Archaeopteryx cannot exist, the bible tells me so.
Fossils are lies and science is wrong, this I truly know.
I’ll stick to claims of Bronze Age prophets with faithful resolution
and ignore all those scientists who do swear by evolution.
Archaeopteryx, you never lived, you’re not a missing link.
You’re not part of nature’s plan, for those of us who don’t think.
Drosophila – Ode to a Fruit Fly
Drosophila Melagaster, you sexy little fly.
Your universe is in a bottle; you never saw the sky.
You never had the chance to fly, free as God made you.
Your firmament was made of glass, all you ever knew.
A slice of apple or an orange, would have been your wish.
A ripe banana is your heaven in a little dish.
Instead you existed under glass just for me to see,
to reproduce and be bred by a human deity.
I watched you copulate, lay eggs to my delight;
I watched as your larva pupated in plain sight;
I watched your offspring hatch and spread their tiny wings;
I etherized your whole brood and examined the little things.
With a little brush, I selected a few mutations,
and then bred them once again to make some new creations.
Playing God sure felt good for some unholy reason.
Creating little mutants was supernatural treason.
What I did in college lab with deliberate resolution
happens all the time in nature, its called evolution.
But there are those of little wit that still cannot conceive
that what we did together should really be believed.
I finished my genetics course and passed the final tests.
I never could have done it without my fruit fly pests.
Playing God is bad enough; some think it a holy crime.
But, it was fun proving evolution by my design.