A Blind Fish Seeks External Validation

A little blind fish was feeling blue
“Am I gifted?” he asked his mother
“Is there anything only I can do?
Am I unlike any other?
Does my future look sunny?
Will my life be a lark?”
Then CHOMP! Ain’t it funny?
His “mother” was a shark.

The Hocused Pocused Crocus

A witch hocus pocused my crocus
Through a hole in my garden wall
She aimed her old wand with great focus
And mumbled, “Kazamagarawl!”
Now my crocus appears in odd places
Like inside the drain of my sink
Or stuck through my brand-new ballpoint pen
Where I could’ve sworn there was ink
I found it again in the tool shed
With its stem tied around an old saw
And then again during Thanksgiving
It popped out of old Aunt Midge’s bra
It showed up once more in my wallet
Where six bucks and two dimes used to be
And then it showed up in my teapot
And again in a bag of split peas
When I put two red socks in the dryer
And left them to dry for an hour
I scowled to find when I checked it
Just one lonely sock and that flower
Then the crocus appeared in my pantry
And once, when I ate soup at noon
The crocus appeared in my fingers
Which a second ago held a spoon
I once, by mistake, smoked the crocus
Though I’d just packed the pipe with hashish
And POOF—while out walking my Schnauzer
The crocus appeared on the leash!
Then the crocus showed up on my clock face
And always points to the wrong hour
And once when I peered in the mirror
I saw not my own face, but the flower’s!
Now if I thought it might make a difference
I think I would probably shout:
“Witch! You un-hocus pocus my crocus!
You’ve succeeded in creeping me out.”

We Don't Fit In

We don’t fit in; none of us do
We’re like size six feet in a size twelve shoe
We’re like embryonic penguins in monkey wombs
We’re like Mayan corpses in Egyptian tombs
We’re like paperboys at the royal ball
We’re like swear words on a grandma’s shawl
We’re like onions in a chocolate cake
We’re like thick fur on a slippery snake
We’re like Happy Meal toys in caviar tins
We’re like banana peels in recycling bins
We’re like a Catholic vegan at a kosher deli
We’re like a navel ring on an old nun’s belly
We’re like a rape scene in a Disney flick
We’re like pudding made with arsenic
We’re like strippers at a Mormon wedding
We’re like jungle dwellers going sledding
We’re like a newborn baby in a hearse
We’re like a jock strap in a woman’s purse
We’re like pumpkins carved at Christmastime
We’re like silent parrots and blabbering mimes
We want to be sexy, but we can’t say our R’s
We want to be Ferraris, but we’re beater cars
We’ll just never fit in, though it may be our goal
We’re all square pegs and the world’s a round hole.

A Bear and a Bee Shop for Underwear

A bear-sized bee and a bee-sized bear
Went shopping for some underwear
Well, the bear-sized bee chose a size 23
But the bee-sized bear's size wasn't there

The Fearsome Mustard Rat

I am the fearsome mustard rat
And when I see a hungry cat
Approach me with his drooly chops
I squeeze my bottle and kersplop!

Life vs. Afterlife

Of the Heaven’s Gate cult we ask, “Why?
Did those poor brainwashed souls have to die?”
But while they're out in space
On a wild comet chase
We’re stuck here working dull nine-to-fives

Societally Frowned Upon Alternatives to Salt and Pepper

While at home, a young fellow named Jude
Would use ashes to season his food
But at parties he learned
Not to reach for the urn
‘Cause the hosts seemed to think it quite rude