Amazed I have a niece
So beautiful and bold,
She married her twin
Before getting too old,
Not afraid to be out
In the world with her best sister,
Mrs. & Mrs.
Each knew when they kissed her.

I'd rather have a ****
Than a shart,
I'd rather have a bed ache
Than a headache,
I would prefer a scratch
Rather than an itch,
And I'd rather be filthy rich.

But instead I understand
It may be better,
To be satisfied
With a consonant letter,
It's more common
Than a vowel, my friend,
Than an x-y-z perfect
At the end.

I won’t argue with the
Ideal of perfection,
Because it’s more than just
Natural selection,
Hard work and ambition
Rule endeavor,
You may be short
With the largest pure lever,
Balanced on the fulcrum
Of perseverance,
Expect excellence
But settle for clearance,
Otherwise disappointment
Makes failure too easy,
And if you give up now
Your efforts look cheesy.

“Portland Police Draw Weapons”
It must be an artistic police station,
They need something to do with their hands
So they don’t suffer stagnation,
Maybe they draw weapons
When confronted with unarmed men,
To de-escalate the situation
They grab charcoal, paper and pen.

A stash of ten thousand rounds
Was found in a square house,
Luckily the rounds had no bullets
They couldn’t harm a mouse,
Armed perpetrators
Brandished pistols and guns,
But their rounds were effectively neutered
Like ten thousand nuns.

Out of an abundance of caution
We shelter in place,
And if you try to leave your house
You get sprayed with mace.

Active shooter situations
Only to discover that  nobody is home,
Locking down an entire neighborhood
Now that’s some crazy foam.

A lot of terms of our times
Are all about control,
Contain the population and the narrative
Then hide it in a hole.

We’re all in this together
If we each play our part,
That rarely works out……...
Because one bad apple
Can upset the apple cart.

There’s a light at the end of the tunnel
Yes, things are on the mend,
The narrative is under control
Until the last page; “The End”.

I would rant and I’d rave
I’d bargain and scold,
Till I was blue in the face
And feeling quite old,
Just to get the girl reading
Something more than Teen People,
I’d gladly climb Everest
Or leap from a steeple.

I burned 17 packages
Of incense and sage,
I scouted the bookstores
For tomes for her age,
But what good would it do
If she never opened the book,
She would tell me, dear Father
I don’t like the look.

I loped to the library
And toddled to Tower,
I dashed down to Dalton's
Scanning books by the hour,
All with a longing
And a keen aspiration,
This daughter would read
For a minute's duration.

Alas and alack
All my efforts were nil,
Not a Shakespeare or Keats
Nay, a Jack or a Jill,
Until I admitted
My failure as Father,
All my running amuck
Was an embarrassing bother.

I was forced to succumb
To the wiles of her ways,
She could read fashion mags
To the end of her days,
If only this Father
Would pay the subscription,
Or this daughter would connive
A catatonic conniption.

This tale has an ending
And it came down to loyalty,
I pay her to read
So she's feeling like royalty,
I had to demonstrate
That I was loving, not mean,
I said, "Read in the car"
She replied, "Limousine".

How often it's told
In stories and lore,
That raising one's children
Is often a chore,
But the right application
Of smiles and charm,
Will insure that the Father
Will avoid lasting harm.

Down at Mary Lou's,
There's a Venezuelan *****,
I'd have married her at 16
If we were south of Mason Dixon,
She's as sweet as cotton candy
She's a Venezuelan fox,
She has all the right ingredients
To be unorthodox.

Down at Mary Lou's
There's a Venezuelan momma,
She looks hotter than Hell
And knows nothing of Obama,
She has a way with coffee beans
A special way to grind,
The brew so stimulating
Oh baby; What a find!

Down at Mary Lou's
There's a Venezuelan beauty,
She blends outstanding coffee
And she really is a cutie,
Whenever I stop by
I feel her Venezuelan heat,
I get an overwhelming urge
Just to have a bite to eat.

Down at Mary Lou's
There's a Venezuelan girl,
She makes the finest Latte'
With a little mocha curl,
Her steam is hyper-pressured
Milk frothing to a frenzy,
I think I'll wait outside for her
To perform an apprehenzie.

Down at Mary Lou's
There's a Venezuelan dame,
She prepares an awesome beverage
While I play a little game,
It’s called watch the Coffee Maid
Tamp the grounds and make some steam,
Oh, this Venezuelan Coffee chick
Is an old man’s sweetest dream.

There's a Venezuelan princess
Down at Mary Lou's,
If I had done the hiring
She's the one I'd choose,
Her charisma is intoxicating
Her aromas even more so,
And when she wears that skimpy T - shirt
I'm just nuts about her torso.

Down at Mary Lou's
Things are heating up,
I keep dropping in for coffee
At three bucks a cup,
And while I'm on the subject
Regarding a Venezuelan Barista,
If she isn't available.........
Might she have a sista'?

A vacation too short
But the views were **** good,
Thanks to a Venezuelan beauty
Preparing coffee as one should,
I'll return again a year from now
And stop at Mary Lou's,
Will the Coffee chick come back again?
If not I'll sing the blues.

An anonymous name
On a platform of minions,
I like it that way
I care not about opinions,
I'm not socially adept
I don't seek your approval,
I think that I'm harmless
So I don't need removal.

I can't paint pretty pictures
Make gifs or do coding,
I can operate the mouse
And occasional downloading,
But I know how to type
And run a good rhyme,
So I can spout my opinions
Any old time.