Pop Star

She thought she’s do a solo project
Thought she’d lose the clowns
Who stifled her creatively
And only weighed her down

Regurgitated some old riffs
And no one would be wiser
If she added drum machines
And a synthesizer

Wore a see through jumpsuit that
Was made of fishnet mesh
Sequined grapes covered her crotch
Some pasties at the breasts

Learned some simple hip hop moves
To keep up with the fad
Hired dancers that seemed not
To make her look too bad

And even though not needed they
Thought it most opportune
To make it more commercial by
Adding some autotune

And when they’d ask ’bout her new stuff
She’d call it country funk
With classical and jazz thrown in
Of course a bit of punk

But soon enough the jig was up
As she climbed to the top
She’d given up, surrendered to
Be labeled simply pop

And in just a few years from now
Your kids prob’ly won’t get
The irony of what they find
Scrolling the internet

And finding the old pictures will
They ever understand
Why that pop star looks just like the girl
Who played in that rock band

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The Curse of the Black Thumb

The weather warms as my sweet children
Volunteer to take
The thriving healthy classroom plant
Home with them on spring break

But what my kids were thinking well
That I can’t rightly tell
But history dictates that this
Can really not end well

I think of lima beans to sprout
At merely 3 days old
When ours just turned an eerie black
And yielded deadly mold

Petrified petunias and
Non-breathing baby’s breath
The sickening sunflowers that
We swear became possessed

A tulip that apparently
Died of self immolation
A cactus that managed somehow
To pass from dehydration

And so the school plant’s blackened stem
A sign to me for sure
I say “Babies you might not need to
Water this no more”

Another added to the list
Of poor unwitting plants
In my defense they had to know
It never had a chance

And so on their spring break I guess
This clearly puts a damper
They should be glad they didn’t choose
To take home the class hamster

Thanks to Michelle at Lipstick and Laundry and her blog Grow Baby Grow for inspiration.

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Deviant Delicacies

Sour, sweet Chinese store well
In my refrigerator
Too bad I always seem to be
Hungry an hour later

Italian’s tasty, rich and dense
And sinful as I dare
Skin parmesan I’d say we’re on
Unless I find a hair

Mediterranean is a feast
That rarely goes to waste
Ahad may bob in my kabob
And leave a garlic taste

For Mexican I have a yen
And for it give a holla
No way Jose maybe saute
Him in my enchilada

A kosher dish, a flesh knish
Let’s do it to the hilt
Oh Rabbi Stein you were divine
Well worth the Jewish guilt

And spices work, a jerk with jerk
That comes straight from Jamaica
And Japanese I say ‘yes please’
To sushi and a geisha

The meat is lean, bones boil clean
I get what I can take
A cannibal can’t have it all
So why discriminate

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