The Last Oreo

Oh never mind the moaning and
The groaning in the hall
That’s only our ghost Doris who
We do not mind at all

We tried and tried to help her I’m
Afraid we did our best
But we were not successful in
Putting her soul to rest

So now she haunts our hallways
Every midnight without fail
So please sit down and I’ll relate
Unto you her sad tale

Doris rushed through every meal
Her passion quite overt
But not for her dull food she yearned
But for that of dessert

Perhaps a habit she picked up
Eating her mother’s cooking
Who told her she should eat her meat
Lest she could have her pudding

Or maybe lots of siblings who
Left her feeling bereft
If they took desserts before hers
And so there was none left

Or maybe she thought that her cakes
Her ice creams and sorbets
Would one day magically grow legs
And up and walk away

So Doris in her kitchen stood
Like one facing starvation
With food not really eaten one
Might call it inhalation

And little did she know she would
Meet her maker that day
At the hands of a chicken bone
That went down the wrong way

They found her two days later
Rigor mortis had set in
One stiffened hand poised on her throat
One on the cookie tin

And now she wonders through the halls
Focused, on high alert
Her soul will not be laid to rest
Until that last dessert

Of course we tried to help her sure
No reward would be greater
We offered every sweet and tart
In our refrigerator

But soon we realized our attempts
Would only go to waste
Doris no longer had the means
To chew, swallow or taste

And that my friend does mark the end
Of Doris’ sad story
Condemned to spend eternity
In Dessert Purgatory


Where Bad Tricks Go To Die

The awkward silence fills the hall
Another ill timed pause
That’s broken by a charitable
Smatter of applause

As The Fantastic Felix pulls
Another from the deck
To be told by the audience
That too is incorrect

A handcuffing that goes awry
Illusions that fall flat
As Felix manages to pull
Some lint out of his hat

But was it extreme pity or
Part of God’s divine plan
That made me bow to his request
By raising up my hand

When he said “From the audience
I’ll need a volunteer
For my next feat I will make
A human disappear.”

Next thing I know I’m up on stage
With Felix softly cussing
A slew of magic words amount
To absolutely nothing

And just when I am thinking why’d
I say yes to this weirdo
I hear him as he chants the words
“Presto change disappearo!”

I’m falling through a hallway
Catapulting to my doom
And soon I am transported to
A dark and dreary room

With a gloomy sign that reads
“Abandon here all hope”
I follow paths of yards and yards
Of strewn colorful ropes

Guillotines and large boxes
With easy open backs
Linking rings and barrels
Quarters covered with ear wax

Dogeared playing cards dispersed
Rabbits jump, doves fly
And soon I know I’m in the place
Where bad tricks go to die

And though I kicked and screamed at first
Now I am resigned
I may have been here months or weeks
I’ve since lost track of time

But I suppose it could be worse
The context of my doom
After all I could be like
My poor girlfriend here June

Who’s ’round to keep me company
And good for a few laughs
As we while away eternal
Searching for her other half



Memoirs of An Undertaker

Oh yes I do remember when we buried poor aunt Jean
She’d gone from a size 0 up to a size 14
That’s why we told the family we didn’t think it best
To bury her in her most favorite slinky cocktail dress
No amount of alterations really made for a clean line
As she hadn’t worn that dress since 1989
But they did not appreciate my well meant intervening
And so the word ‘viewing’ would take on a whole new meaning.

And remember that time when we picked up grandpa Ned
He died one night so peacefully right in his own bed
But I’m sure the family found our technique rather shoddy
Our laughable ineptness at attempts to move the body
I had him round the arms, Johnny had him round the knees
A coffee table in the way and an ill timed sneeze
Well let’s just put it this way, I never thought I’d say
You’re grandfather’s body is wedged in the stairway

And some stop and wonder how I work with these conditions
The eyes that sink, the mouths that gape, the bodily emissions
Amazed at how it is that daily I don’t blow a gasket
With angry relatives who tussle right into the caskets
Dismembered body pieces, putty, wax and string it’s set
Until they can be propped up much like a marionette
Oh I must admit it isn’t easy to be me
But there’s something to be said about job security


Freak Magnet

When walking through a field of grass
Most see a sea of flowers
I see a guy hand down his pants
Who offers golden showers

A simple introduction’s made
I’m holding my hand out
Next thing I know my fingers somehow
End up in their mouth

If I’m the least bit friendly and
I try not to affront
I’ll end up at a seance chanting
Or a zombie hunt

And if a somewhat normal friendship
Seems about to crop
I look upon it skeptically
The other shoe will drop

When it turns out she thinks she’s a cat
Or likes to pick her toes
Or maybe inhales chocolate milk
Directly up her nose

Or she’s about to suck my blood
In the midst of the night
Or she cries every time that Kim
and Kanye have a fight

Tell me do you think it’s me
A smell I am emitting
Some supersonic radar sense
Which I must be transmitting

A gullible expression they take
As an invitation
Or maybe just a general
Air of desperation

Or the way I try to stop from
Stepping on the cracks
When walking down the street with my
Invisible blue cat


Spirit of Radio

Edith worked the overnights
She sat there all alone
With nought a one for comp-ny but
His relaxed dulcet tones

That somehow did emit a sort of
Subtle sexy growl
And she would join immodestly
For his signature howl

“A whooo this is the sly dog here
I tell you I don’t bite
But I’ll bark and growl and take you
Through the lonely night

We got some Pistols coming soon
And then the Violent Femmes
So be sure to tune in right here

And Edith listened as Sly Dog
Would play her favorite tunes
Pretending he spoke straight to her
Beneath the waning moon

She’d answer all his questions and
Converse quite easily
With the voice she found on her
Radio frequency

But one day Edith spoke to Dog
Near had a heart attack
Because dear Edith was quite sure
That Sly Dog answered back

And she tested her theory sure
That something was amiss
Until he said it loud and clear
“Hey what it be, Edith?”

From that day on they chatted so
‘Bout all that suits their fancy
Like whether the Foos were all that
And whether Sid killed Nancy

And whether it’s Beatles or Stones
Or if Kurt’s recognition
Would be so if he hadn’t died
Or Fender over Gibson

And times when it was just about
The sun was due to rise
They’d get all philosophical
And just talk about life

Then one night Edith came to work
To Sly Dog said “Hello”
But there would be no answer back
She thought “Where did he go?”

She tried to find what happened but
All her attempts were thwarted
When she found that all Sly Dog’s shows
Were always prerecorded

But Edith bound back quickly
And not one to be depressive
Now she swears her new best friend
Is Flo from Progressive

This poem is dedicated to Wolfman Jack, Rodney Bingenheimer and all the overnight deejays who were there before overnight meant prerecorded.

Also thanks to Syl at Syl65’s Blog for his poem 10:55: You’re On The Air for inspiration.


Trampling At The Sampling

I circle like a vulture and
In deepest secrecy
Dare not divulge the nature
Or give out my strategy

And with the stealthiest of stealth
Unrivaled by a cheetah
I look on cups filled with cream puffs
Yogurt, spanakopitas

And with my wig and sunglasses
Practically incognito
No one will guess my gluttony
I wait on the burrito

She says it’d be 10 minutes so
I hover real near by
Studying a box of mac n cheese
I’ve no intent to buy

And soon the microwave bell dings
And surely I got dibs
But tell that to the woman waiting
With her seven kids

Nervously I do surmise
A serving less than ample
Dismayed as the burrito’s cut
To no more than 8 samples

Little fingers greedy clench
And little mouths that dine
Upon food that for all intent
And purpose should be mine

But what is this I come upon
In slow motion unfolds
The hands that eagerly stretch out
Of a poor three year old

Anticipation on her face
So pure and filled with light
All awaiting joyous tastes
Within the tiny bite

But all is fair in love and war
Some day she’ll understand
Just why I had to snatch the sample
From her tiny hands

I’m sure she will forget about it
By end of the day
And prob’ly wouldn’t have really
Enjoyed it anyway

And after that all bets are off
And destiny it calls
Along with soda, ice cream, meats
And two jumbo meatballs

Cheeses, crackers, sausages
Nuggets shaped like stars
As I cut a blind man off
To grab granola bars

Cookies, coffee, gummy bears
All worthy of a try
As well as some strange chewy stuff
I can’t identify

And vegan gluten free wheat cakes
That taste a bit like tin
A candy coated laxative
And children’s vitamins

And with all tables visited
It’s time to head on out
With bile in my stomach and
A bad taste in my mouth

And as I’m headed for the door
A woman there does greet
Me to ask me if I bought something
She would check my receipt

I say to her that I did not
And thank her for her service
But giggle that she’d think I’d
Actually make a purchase.

Inspired by a local story you can read about here, which turns out to be not nearly as funny.