Whose Box is This?

Thanks to the late William Chatterton Dix for the melody.

Whose box is this, left here in the snow
on my home’s humble front porch?
Where blue jays proclaim supremacy
and the neighbor’s dog douses the torch.
This box of someone’s new or old
now  soggy and ungluing from the cold
sits waiting still for it’s Santa Claus
to take the damn thing home.

What genius led them to drop this thing off
knowing someone’s holiday is inside?
Way to go mailman you did it again
Just wait until our next meeting.
Don’t say I’m bitter, I’m not even mad
but it’s been here already a week and a half
It’s really, really starting to smell
of old fruit and shellfish and liver.

So at my request come get this sad thing
wear a gas mask if you’re wise
it may not be anything I have guessed
but the smell is burning my eyes.
Please, please reclaim the box
I cry to all who can hear
Please, please take this thing away
my house needs to be aired out for a year.

Usually, postman, you do a fine job
but this one is really an expert bomb
Hurrry, hurry to pick it up
this horrible box of wonder.

 

Untitled

Thwap!

A father and his children trudged through untouched wilderness. Every one of them was disgruntled.

"Dad, why are we doing this?" one of the children asked.

"We are seeking God!" their father exhaustedly growled.

They hiked on, none of their attitudes changing much. The children asked for more details about how God could be found in the woods but their father's responses grew no more detailed.

Finally, they reached the end of the trail. The thick forest fell away to reveal a long ledge overlooking a large river canyon. The sun was just sinking below the far horizon and the sky was spangled with multi colored clouds. Everything around them was speckled with golden light.

The children gaped in awe.

"Aw, dammit!" the father said suddenly.

His children looked at him, puzzled.

"We just missed it," he sighed.

"Missed what?" said one of the children.

"God?" his youngest asked.

He nodded.

The oldest child was skeptical. "How do you know we just missed him?"

Their father pointed to the sunset, "that's the exhaust from his jet pack."

Mommas

 You'll recognize the tune. It's dedicated to all those perfect little works of art out here.

It should probably be said that I don't call people morons. It isn't very sporting and it doesn't help anything. If you miss the point and make it personal keep that drama to yourselves. 

I don't know your dad.

Also, I emailed a link to the Willie Nelson crowd and invited him to give me the what-for if he doesn't approve.

Mommas, don't let your babies get ass-whooped by morons

Make them pick guitars and fix up old trucks

school them on doctors and lawyers and such

Mommas, don't let your babies get ass-whooped by morons

Don't make them stay home where they're always alone

pretending they have somebody to love

Life without daring leaves them youthless and cold

spending their dreams searching heaven for fools gold

belts and the paddle, and the chair for time out say

you want them to clone you

without understanding your way

Mommas, don't let your babies get ass-whooped by morons

Make them pick guitars and fix up old trucks

school them on doctors and lawyers and such

Mommas, don't let your babies get ass-whooped by morons

Don't make them stay home where they're always alone

pretending they have somebody to love

Take them to your best places and let em say that they're boring

make them clean up after puppies and stay up all night

They may never know you

if they do they won't show you

but if you let them be different

they'll more likely say when things aren't going just right

Mommas, don't let your babies get ass-whooped by morons

Make them pick guitars and fix up old trucks

school them on doctors and lawyers and such

Mommas, don't let your babies get ass-whooped by morons

Don't make them stay home where they're always alone

pretending they have somebody to love

Mommas, don't let your babies get ass-whooped by morons

Make em pick guitars and fix up old trucks

school them on doctors and lawyers and such

Don't make them stay home where they're always alone

pretending they have somebody to love