I didn’t plan
And I don’t regret it,
Some say, you should have
And I say, forget it,
It all turned out fine
The way it was done,
So I will continue
And it ought to be fun.

I didn't plan
Because of childhood drama,
The unexpected near death
Of my beloved Mama,
That's when I understood
That the future was uncertain,
That plans could be derailed
By what's behind the curtain.

Sometimes I plan
Regarding tomorrow,
That’s my limit on the future
That I’m willing to borrow,
Because two days from now
The completely unexpected,
Might force a new direction
That had not been projected.

When I do try to plan
I’m frozen in my tracks,
Uncertainty assails me
And gives me forty whacks,
I flounder in the maelstrom
Overwhelmed by specifics,
I’ve tried to work through it
But to me it’s hieroglyphics.

I didn’t plan
And it turned out alright,
I married a princess
And she’s with me every night,
But I was just mail-order
And now she’s stuck with me,
And other than that
Our lives flow happily.

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"Where have you been",
I live an uninvolved life
Absent of sin,
Each every day
Is peacefully sublime,
Don't ask me to plan
I just don't have the time.

My little poems
Are short stories,
Most of them fictional
Few personal glories.

Something in everyday life
Flashes a spark,
But I’m not Superman
More likely I’m Clark,
My enhanced power
Is a quick imagination,
Much to my mate’s consternation.

She listens quietly
And doesn’t interject,
She probably ignores me
Out of self respect,
Not to be tainted
By my wild accusations,
Crazy word salad
From mental gyrations.

Rhyming is an easy way
To express what is in my brain,
Puns, jokes and associations
Seized before they go down the drain,
Best written pretty soon
Before I forget the theme,
And sometimes the best ideas
Are from a lucid dream.

Short little stories
With an eight line meter,
Less than a kilogram
About a half liter.

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”.