The Glass is Half Empty but God is Half Full

The glass is half empty but God is half full

I lost my retainer inside of a

Bowl of rice pudding from President Bush

Who sat on a thumb-tack and injured his

Tush, tush! He’s sleeping! Or maybe that’s “hush”

I can’t comb my hair 'cause I've lost my

Bruschetta is good, it’s tomatoes on bread

But if it is poisoned you’ll quickly be

Dead baby jokes are the cream of the crop

But when I perform them my mother says:

Stop and sbottom, bottoms and tops

Rain falls down in little

Dropsy is a bad disease

Always say thank you and always say

Peas are delicious and carrots are too

The hen says ‘ba-gawk’ while the cow says

Mood rings are funny, they show how you feel

Achilles was famous for having a

Heel of a good time when booze was around

Some items are lost and some items are

Founding fathers all wore wigs

The wolf went after three small

Pigsty! That’s what your room is!

I hope you studied! There's a

Quizzical wizard inside of my brain

My brain is quite small so the wizard’s

Insanely uncomfortable, what a poor chap!

Close your eyes, darling, and have a nice

Nappies are good when the baby has gas

The nappies are strapped on the baby’s small

Glass is half empty but God is half full

I lost my retainer inside of a

Bowling ball made for my dad who’s in jail

This poem is for you, Dad! It’s sent in the

Mail, or the female, which one has more power?

I picked all the petals off this lovely

Flower is used for the pie and the cake

What shall we do? Oh, there’s so much at

Stake is delicious, I love a dead cow

In Italia, instead of ‘goodbye’ we say

Ciao down! Dig in! Have a bite of this treat!

Let’s all eat together! This poem is

Completely absurd and my sweater is wool

The glass is half empty but God is half full
Of Himself, He's almighty, why not?
Horses can gallop and horses can
Trotsky was killed by a pick in the skull
The glass is half empty but God is half
Full-figured women are sexy as heck
As long as their head is on top of their
Neckties are fancy, tuxedos are grand
The Barenaked Ladies are my favorite
Banned are the books that depict sex and gore
And kids are so greedy, they always want
Morally we are inclined to believe
That when someone dies we should probably
Grievous and Butthead is quite a good show
I tried hard to watch it but Mother said
Nobody here has been doing their chores!
Hippies smoke ganja and soldiers fight
Warsaw's in Poland, and Poland has poles
Satan is busy collecting the
Soles of the shoes that have been overstocked
The man at the door rang the bell and he
Knocked up the girl of his dreams! And what dreamt he?
That the glass is half full and that God is half empty.

Cheap Noose

Cheap noose! Cheap noose!

Tied up in a noose-knot and ready for use!

It’s a very nice noose…note the strength of the rope!

It’s perfect for those who have given up hope!

It’s much cheaper than life, it’s just $4.99!

And those who have used it say….

It Is Neither Precious Nor Semi-Precious to Be Buried Alive in Jewels

I’m lost inside a pile of gems

I’m clawing through diamonds and quartz

I’m trapped in this heap of mineral stones

And sparkly rocks of all sorts.

I’m trying to leave to come find you

I’ve been digging for over two years

But whenever I break off an emerald

A sapphire or ruby appears.

I miss you, I love you, I need you

I’m trying to be by your side

But I fear that this glittery prison

Is impossibly dense, deep and wide.

I wonder if you’re also digging

Through amethysts, topaz and onyx

Or maybe your heap isn’t gemstones

But car parts or used electronics.

When I first found myself in this gem heap

I thought: Hidden treasure! What luck!

Turns out that it’s not really treasure

When it’s something in which you are stuck.

I hope that I find you, my dear one

And maybe one day we’ll be married

But if I am crushed first by diamonds

At least I'll be stylishly buried.

Oh Why Can't I Make a Good Cake?

Oh why can’t I make a good cake?

And why did the pickle jar break?

And why are there sexy French maids?

And why do some babies have AIDS?

And why is my underwear gone?

And why are there worms on the lawn?

And why is my brain in my skull?

And why does my belly feel full?

And why aren’t there dragons and elves?

And why are there guns on the shelves?

And why don't lobotomies work?

And why do some men go berserk?

And why is my head on my neck?

And why is this planet a speck?

And why do I frequently yawn?

And why are there dewdrops at dawn?

And why is the prince on his knees?

And why does our kitten have fleas?

And why is there soup on my tongue?

And why is my youth so un-young?

And what, in the end, is a ‘why’?

And why do we bother to try

To make reasons abound in the mind

When the mind is so wrinkly and blind?

Oh, MAN—how he constantly reaches

For answers as if they were peaches

As if there’s a Truth Peach to bite

To distinguish the wrong from the right!

Oh no, there’s no peach of this kind

We’re stuck with this lump of a mind

It’s made up of neuronal buzzes

There’s ‘whys,’ but not many ‘becauses’

There’s buckets galore of self-doubt

When we pour out the buckets we shout:

OH WHY, MR. UNIVERSE? WHY?

WHY BOTHER? WHY DO IT? WHY TRY?

And the question is always in vain

We can’t exit the trap of the brain

Perception’s the leash on our thoughts

So we think we’re connecting the dots

When really there aren’t dots, but blobs

Unconnectible blobs made of sobs

Unexplainable oceans of tears

Of wars, bombings, murders and fears

Where monsters—not answers—exist

Are you getting the terrible gist?

These nightmares are going to stay

And we can’t explain nightmares away

So why can’t I make a good cake?

Because PAIN, EVIL, LOSS and HEARTBREAK

Because MEN HAVE BEEN DROWNED IN A LAKE

Because PEOPLE ARE VAPID AND FAKE

Because MANKIND HAS SO MUCH AT STAKE
And also because I can’t bake.

The Whiskey Cow

You’re bored you say? You’re bored right now?

Well, then, I’ll milk the whiskey cow!

I'll simply grab my milking mitts

And go right out and squeeze her tits

Just ten to twenty hearty tugs

And we’ll have whiskey in our mugs

Then we’ll get drunk! Hip hip hooray!

How does it sound? What do you say?

You say you’d like to drink some booze

That did from whiskey-udders ooze?

Too bad! ‘Cause whiskey cows aren’t real!

So you’re just going to have to feel

That boredom. Go on! Let it in!

Be boreder than you’ve ever been

Let boredom soak you with its juice

‘Cause otherwise, well, what’s the use

Of being human? See, you must

Feel all the feelings, or you’ll rust

And boredom is a feeling, right?

So FEEL it, dummy, just sit tight

And be a human! K? Sound good?

You are not made of glass or wood

So just BE bored, be grateful, see?

Not for the bored, but for the BE

The feelings, well, they come and go

But you can always BE you know

And you don’t NEED a whiskey cow

When you are in the here and now

The present moment is at least

As good as boozy-uddered beasts!

Perhaps it’s better, ‘cause it’s free

At least that’s how it seems to me

A whiskey cow would cost a lot

And then there’s all the food you’ve got

To give it every single day

Like barley and alfalfa hay

And milking seems like quite a task

When you can simply get a flask

Of whiskey, from my whiskey hoard

Which you should do, because I’m bored.

A Silly Woman

A woman with a broken wrist

Insisted she did not exist

I said, “You damn well do, old hen!”

She said,  “Okay, well, prove it then!”

“I’m looking at you, I declare!

I see your fingers, nose and hair!

I hear your voice, I sense your heat!

Like me, you’re made of human meat!

You’re solid! Mortal! You have weight!

Your heart and organs palpitate!

You’re sentient, you have cognition!

Look! You moved! You have volition!

You’ve been 'round since your conception!

You know that! Proprioception!”

“Lies!!” she said. “That’s how things seem

But what if we’re in someone’s dream?”

This silly statement made me pissed

And so I broke her other wrist

“Ooch! Ow! That hurt!!!” I heard her squeal

“Calm down,” I said. “It wasn’t real.”

A Special Guy

“You know my friend Jake,” Julie said with a wink

“He’s unbearably rare, he’s distinctly distinct.

He’s…how can I say?...he’s unique, sui generis

Among planets he’s Earth, among cities he’s Paris

He’s eminent, striking, bizarre, distingué

He’s different from others in every which way

He’s special, he’s peerless, a keepsake, a prize

Not all can behold him, his light blinds their eyes

He’s the wolf in the story of little pigs three

‘Neath the princess’s bed, he’s the singular pea

He’s the treasure of pirates, a trophy, a gem

He’s not one of us, and he’s not one of them

He’s Godlike, he’s wondrous, he’s highly regarded

(Shh, is he gone? Here’s the truth: he’s retarded.)