Dumb Poem Collection - # 166 through # 176

My goodness. Here we go with another eleven of those little poems. It won’t be long before there will be enough of them (101 by some sort of counting method) to fill another of the "101Dumb ^Funny Poem" eBooks. I surely do hope so, for my fingers are getting more and more weary, and my eyes are blurring, too. We shall not detail how the brain is faring, mainly because I have already forgotten.

That’s the way things go when a person is careless enough to take up writing.

Let me try out a new word (a new word for me) – eclectic. It kinda rhymes with electric. Perhaps these Dumb Poems of eclectic subjects will also be electric. Nah! No way, right? It will be OK if they just do not put everyone to sleep.

Back in my salad days I used to have a "Selectric" typewriter. I did a lot of work with it until the day someone broke in and stole the thing. Whoever stole the thing deserved the problems it caused, at least so if they tried to write with it.

I have been whacking away on these poems for a few days and, because I don’t remember what all the subjects are since putting them onto the tall pile of poem papers, it is reasonable to describe the subject matter as eclectic – even if I am sorta hazy on the meaning of that fancy word.

Hazy is as hazy does – so here we go with this electric, eclectic compilation, written in its entirety without any help from that long-lost Selectric typewriter.

# 166 – Bewear

When I bought them for my feet
I really, truly thought them neat,
but my blue suede shoes
most folks confuse.
I can’t wear them on the street.

# 167 – The Uncle Sam what am

The guy with striped pants and white beard
wore a tall, gaudy hat that was weird,
and whenever he pointed
at someone anointed,
the country could work as was geared.

# 168 – Speedy VD

Doctor Donald hated sin.
Each VD case he’d promptly win
with penicillin and advice
to be with people who are nice,
and not with whom you’d been.

# 169 – "Your Honor, I will show that the earth is really flat"

Most lawyers are contentious.
A few are conscientious.
They argue forever.
It’s their main endeavor.
Their ways are quite pretentious.

# 170 – Cities

Leadville, Leadville,
how do you stay
at 10,000 feet
with all that you weigh?

Charlotte, Charlotte,
why do you cry?
When it rains, you get wet.
When it stops, you’ll be dry.

Dallas, Dallas,
what are you saying?
A place like you
should stick to hard praying

New York, New York,
you’re a crowded cage,
so full of people
in a rage.

St. Louis, St. Louis,
you’re stuck in the middle,
which is why, I suppose,
that you play second fiddle.

Chicago, Chicago,
corruption perfected.
The smell is so bad.
(The worst we've detected?)

Fairbanks, Fairbanks,
whenever it’s snowing,
your whole doggoned town
may stop vertically showing.

Atlanta, Atlanta,
your plan is a mess,
with your ten Peachtree Streets,
or one more or one less.

Scarsdale, Scarsdale,
costly for sure.
Your taxes do make you
among the worlds poor

Boston, oh Boston,
Yankees and fishes –
Please speak better English.
That’s one of our wishes.

Albany, Lufkin,
Smithville, and Prater,
L. A., Metropolis,
Phoenix, Decatur...
All of you places
do earn direct mention,
but next to this Houston,
you’re out of contention.

Houston, my Houston,
I’ve saved you for last,
and when I’m through writing
I'll leave town (real fast).

# 171 – Clear Sale-ing

At "A-1 Plastic Contraptions, Inc."
There’re tubes and sheets and plastic stink.
If you come with money, they welcome you,
and do a few things you’d expect them to.
If you’re broke, they scarcely blink.

# 172 – Realpolitik

Both Jim McClone and Frank Wilgo
want mayordoms. They told us so.
Both say a lot and mean right little.
Watch ‘em, for their smiles are brittle.
We voters are so slow.

# 173 – My golf score is higher than my bowling score

My set of clubs is downright funny.
I’d throw it out, but it cost big money.
The two-iron’s got a left-hand twist.
The rest are shaped to sprain my wrist.
My ten-ton bag sure is no honey.

# 174 – No swinging on these gates

Saint Peter stood beside his gate
and pondered on a question.
All applicants were caused to wait
as Peter sought suggestion.

He studied all the faces there
as the line grew longer,
and each face held the same blank stare,
none weaker and none stronger.

"Is sight of heaven just too great
for all you folks who’ve died,
or had you people sensed a fate
by which you might have fried?"

"Cheer up, you people standing here,
you’re now on top at last,
yet, please don’t break loose with a cheer,
for noise gets to us – fast."

"Just put your street clothes on the cloud,
and fit your wings on tightly.
Solo flights are not allowed.
These gates are locked up nightly."

"The other rules you’ll have to learn,
and then it’s on to duty.
Here you get just what you earn.
Is not our deal a beauty?"

An old-time soldier was in line,
Just waiting, like the rest.
Said he, "Saint Pete, although you're fine,
your deal is not the best."

"I had a sergeant just like you.
He loved the army, truly.
His deals, like yours, were never through,
with reg tacked onto rulie."

"Please let me have a nice long pass
so I might visit hell.
It’s not as cool down there, alas,
but the rules I can foretell."

# 175 – Pee-Wee

Who once was small, now runs and whirls.
Her hair’s real full of pretty curls.
She kicks a ball for miles and miles,
and, at nice boys, she smiles and smiles.
Our Perri Jean’s a girl of girls.

# 176 – Ask me later

There was a young man, Kevin Kelledy,
with a mind as constrained as old melody.
When asked to declare
when the trees might turn bare,
Kevin’d pause, think, and say, "I can’t tell a day."