My Uncle's Motorquacklers

In the motorcycle sidecar

Of my uncle's Yamaha

Are a pair of baby ducklings

That we nicknamed Zim and Za

My uncle didn't realize

That a duck had laid her brood

In a rusty motorcycle

That he'd hardly ever used

When we took them from the sidecar

They went 'QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK'

And kept up the commotion

Until we put them back

My uncle fixed the bike up

And took them for a spin

I made them little helmets

Out of rubber bands and tin

The children jump and giggle

As Zim and Za cruise past

My uncle honks his horn--beep beep!

And then speeds off real fast

My uncle is a fellow

Who enjoys a good duck roast

But now Zim and Za are famous

And my uncle likes to boast:

"It's the only Motorquackle

In a hundred thousand miles!

And everywhere I take it

All the folks erupt in smiles!"

The ducks who don't choose sidecars

As alternatives to nests

Might end up on a dinner plate

Divided, legs and breasts

But Zim and Za are special

They're as lucky as it gets

As official Motorquacklers

They're my uncle's favorite pets.

The Queen's Servant

the queen asked for a paw

'cause she wanted the claw

for a potion to poison

her daughter

and her servant said 'no'

"i'm no paw-cutter, so

i won't aid in your

hideous slaughter."

but that night as he slept

a slim feline had crept

to his bedroom

and mewled to awake him

he slurred: "shut your maw

or i'll cut off your paw"

and the cat slithered off

to escape him

yet the next night the cat

with a vengeance came back

and kept yawling

to keep him from snoozing

said the servant: "you creep!

if you keep me from sleep

i forewarn you'll end up

with a bruising!"

the third night, undeterred

the loud cat  that he'd heard

had arrived to continue

her mewling

so the servant awoke

and with blanket as cloak

he attacked her

to give her a schooling

with insomniac craze

and his mind in a haze

he dismembered the paw

of the kitten

and the murderous queen

entered quick on the scene

and snatched up the cat's foot

in her mitten

you can probably guess

that the end was a mess

and the queen made

her villainous potion

and the servant was seized

by such guilt and unease

'cause he knew that he'd

set things in motion

he felt anguish and pain

when the princess was slain

as he knew he'd

abetted the murder

and the moral is that

if awoke by a cat

you should know
it's indecent to hurt her.

That Lemon

that lemon will dress up in hot pants

that lemon will wriggle its butt

that lemon will slap on fake glasses

and show off his silliest strut

that lemon will fart with its armpits

which makes all the apricots blush

but one menacing wag of the juicer

and darned if the rascal don't shush!

the flower's funeral

at the flower's funeral, mostly bees attended

"it was a good flower," they said, "full of nectar."

that angel's touch

staring straight at the funhouse mirror

you see yourself with a unibrow

although you are looking straight ahead, in the mirror your eyes appear downcast

you see an angel on your right shoulder and a devil on your left

"those things aren't real," you think. "i don't have a unibrow."

you press your finger to the bridge of your nose and slide it upward with trepidation, wondering if you'll feel the thick frida kahlo bridge you just saw in your reflection

when you hit fuzz, you gasp

you decide to leave the funhouse and go to a regular mirror

the exit is down a corridor, and a woman in a long, white dress approaches you from the other end

she is carrying a hand mirror, which is facing toward you

in that mirror, your eyebrows are separated again

your eyes are looking straight ahead

the angel and the devil are gone

but, doubting yourself, you think maybe the funhouse mirror was true

did it show you the angel, devil and unibrow you never knew you had?

"angel," you whisper, "are you my conscience?" and a voice from over your right shoulder says, "yes"

"devil," you ask, "are you my bad intentions?" and a voice from over your left shoulder says, "yes."

you've almost forgotten the woman in the white dress who is now stripping, slipping the white sleeves off her shoulder, exposing her breasts.
"Oh no, no, no," you say, but the woman with the mirror says, "yes."

Ink Vampires

When teacher says, "Write answers down."
It's not that I don't think
I try to write an answer, but
Ink vampires drink my ink!
They're small and pink, and so they hide
Inside my pencil cases
And if you didn't see their fangs
You'd think they were erasers
And when you go to write a date
Like 1492
They suck the ink right from the pen!
Now what a thing to do!
It's cause of them I failed the test
And left the pages blank
I act'ly had a lot to say
But all my ink was drank.

Wrong Seasoning

My mum made a soup
Using abstract reasoning
It seemed she'd run out
Of allspice seasoning
The soup still smelled great
But you can't take a bite
Unless you can solve
A hard math problem right
"What's six hundred
divided by seven?" it said
I guessed "sixty-two"
And went hungry to bed.

The Lizard's Tale

My tongue is long
The desert's dry
Oh hidey ho, oh hidey hi
My blood is cold
So I sun on rocks
With one eye open
To look for hawks
The cacti are friends
I know them by name
That one over there
I call Spikey Maclaine
At night I hang out
In the skull of a horse
Where I meet my friends Igor
And Charlie of course
I ask how their day been
I ask what they ate
I ask if they had a close call
With a snake
"As big as a hose!
With a ten-inch long tooth!"
(That's Charlie--he sometimes
Elongates the truth)
We drink water, and when
We run out, we drink dust
From the cow skull we watch
The sky fade into dusk
The more dusky it gets
The more sleepy we feel
'Specially if we have had
A few bugs for a meal
The cacti stand guard
While we snooze for a bit
In my dream, my tongue's short
And the desert is wet
But when I awake
Hidey ho, hidey hi
My tongue is long
And the desert's dry