My Rest Home

(sung to the tune of “Deadman’s Curve”)

Cruisin’ in my Rascal slidin’ across the floor

Burnin’ rubber, strippin’ gears, bumpin’ into your door

Challenge there and then to drag, two dash hounds

Ol’ man Woot’s bedpan will be out-of-bounds

‘Round the nurse’s station, IVs to drain

Depends for you and me in victory lane


My rest home, it’s no place to play

My rest home, best to keep away

Won’t survive my rest home!

* cough, wheeze, cough *

And More...

I’m too busy living to worry ‘bout dying

I, I am not lying, I am, I’m crying

I am not ready to go yet

This show ain’t over, you know, ye

Do not remember me for what I’ve become

A balding broke down ol’ coot, that’ a nice sum

Remember me for what I was

I was eye candy, had that buzz 

My faith’s been shot and left for dead

In the middle of, of the roadbed

Nobody Likes Sad Poetry

I started writing poetry to give a parting gift to my nephew and my niece, the two most important people in my life.  I feel like I’ve been a miserable failure and wanted to leave a message from the other side (oh, gosh, this sounds mighty “The Twilight Zone-ish” :p ).  Most of my poetry is pretty pedestrian -- tho, every once in a while.  :D

Nobody likes sad poetry 

Or so I have been told

But i just got let it out

Before I get too old

Oh, Turner, ah, Bailey 

Can you, can you hear me!?

Lend me your ear before I die

I’ve got something to say

It’s not really that important

Sorry for wast’ning your day

Oh, Turner, ah, Bailey

You still list’ning to me!?

I wish I had been a better uncle

I wish I had been a better friend

I wish I had been better

‘Til the end