The Welsh Moron

The finish line recedes as fast
As all the milestones I’ve passed
Until at long and weary last
I recognize the stick
One end of which atop my head
Is tied with twine; from t’other, thread
Suspends the treat toward which I’ve sped
So long my tongue is thick
And arid, but the die is cast
And though I know I won’t be fed
I crave at least a lick
Confound this cartoon trick

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The Price You Pay

I don my borrowed skin
And grin
To welcome the hereafter
How near the demi-year?
Begin
The fabled months of laughter

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Somnambulism

Somnambulism: That’s when you
Get up before your sleep is through
And go about your night as if
It’s day; though when you wake you’re stiff,
You’re pleased your FitBit says you’ve leapt
To record step-counts while you slept.
I prefer to stay in bed
And journey gently in my head.
Walking in your sleep is fine
When it’s your sleep. Stay out of mine.

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Kneeblets

I’ve stacks of sacks of frozen peas
Inside my freezer. When my knees
Are sore and aching, then I need ’em.
When I’m hungry, though, I eat ’em.

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Donkey Talk

Donkeys mill about the yard.
They try to talk, but not too hard,
‘Cause talking donkeys don’t win prizes
‘Less they’re wearing good disguises.
Dressed as elephants, they’ll bray;
As donkeys, though, they’ve naught to say.
The reason is–this may sound crass–
When donkeys talk, it’s out the ass.

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Hot ‘n’ Hungry

Hot ‘n’ hungry
Match for me
Like peanut butter
An’ ice tea
Or cats ‘n’ tacos.
‘Nother words,
Hot ‘n’ hungry’s
For th’ birds.

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The Night Before

All-nighter days were done, I thought,
When I left school, but, sadly, not.

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