If I could sleep at night,
As well as I sleep through
These stupid, endless meetings.
I would be well-rested, indeed.
Maybe that’s why meetings are recorded.
You can listen to the playback at bedtime.
Then, you can gently nod off to sleep.
I’m getting sleepy just thinking about it.
I love Tex-Mex food.
I would eat it every day.
Rice, beans and nachos,
What else is there to say?
It’s just sometimes,
There is a dramatic effect.
Like a volcano erupting somewhere,
Or a pilot forced to eject.
Today, my wife dragged me shopping.
She bribed me with Tex-Mex first.
We got to the store and I felt rumblings.
It’s not like something was about to burst.
I thought.
So, my colon blew out in WalMart,
I was stranded in the stall.
The guard came to check for theft,
But I hadn’t taken anything at all.
(Well, I took a dump. But, really, I left it. Thank you, George Carlin.)
To the tune of “My Bonnie”
My colon is long as the ocean,
My colon is wide as the sea.
They’re sticking a scope in my colon,
It’s called “colonoscopy.”
Did you never see “Queer Eye”,
My dear gay friends on board?
Can’t you fix the black socks with sandals?
They’re an abomination to the Lord.
We’re falling apart.
From head to toes,
From North to South,
All parts must go.
We’re forgetting things
We used to know.
From basic to complex,
From fast to slow.
There’s other problems,
This was just a little bit.
I had even more problems,
I don’t know where I wrote it.
My doctor found excess water
In my ankles and my feet.
He said, “I have a cure for you,
Here’s a pill that can’t be beat.”
I never used to exercise.
My feet were made of clay.
But now, I take Furosemide.
So, I run around all day.
I’ve located every bathroom,
Between my office and my home.
I’ve panic stopped at most of them.
I’m never far to roam.
I’ve found the shortest distance
To every rest room on my floor.
I know how to avoid the talkers,
I’m not distracted any more.
I’m running more than ever,
From sea to shining sea.
I’ll complete this in a moment,
But first, I have to pee.
Wine improves with aging,
So does imported cheese.
My life has turned to vinegar,
So, can I stop aging, please?
I wrote a poem at fifty-four,
It wasn’t bad, I think.
But that was a year ago,
Now, I need a drink.
I don’t really feel that old.
Age is all in the mind, I see.
So, I guess I’ll pick a random time,
Let’s say, I’m forty-three.
In spite of all the Facebook posts,
My expression is still stony.
I’ve finally admitted to myself,
I’ll never get a pony.
I still don’t feel old,
I guess I really should.
I’m writing my life lessons,
I told myself I would.
I shouldn’t waste money,
But I just can’t be a miser.
I’m another year older,
And another Budweiser.
Salesmen can be useful,
Those just aren’t the ones I get.
Lawyers can be honest,
It’s just not the way to bet.
You can fall in love,
You can fall in really deep.
But whomever you may find to love,
No-one beats a good night’s sleep.
It’s too late to be on the stage,
I’ll just stand here by the riser.
I’m another year older,
And another Budweiser.
Lots of (funny) failures,
Very occasional success.
I’ve tried to be myself,
Just never to excess.
I made fast food in high school.
Burgers, fries and all.
So, I’m an unemployed chef
Whenever Food Network calls.
I won’t ever be a King.
I won’t even be the Kaiser.
I’m just another year older,
And another Budweiser.