Please Hold My Hand

Please hold my hand when talking to me

Don’t want to slip away, you see

I will hold your hand when talking to you

Don’t want you to slip away, too

My Mom has the most annoying habit of getting up from the supper table when I’m in the middle of a story so that I’m left talking to thin air.  This is what we’ve worked out.  Sooo,if you see me in a restaurant holding my Mom’s hand (or my Dad’s hand) , I not scared of the dark, I’m just trying to communicate.   My Mom -- bless her heart -- does not like for me to talk ’bout her.  She said that the only reason she gets up from the supper table is to wait on my sorry-ass.  That’s not entirely true, tho, she also waits on my Dad’s sorry-ass.  :p

That Good Ol' Diet Mountain Dew

I am certain that I’m going to Heaven

I have a wish or two (or three!)

My hot tub in Heaven shall be filled

With that good ol’ Diet Mountain Dew

I foresee my hot tub in Heaven as being a 20-foot oval with 2 rows of 4 stadium seats at each end.  There will be a 12 -foot diameter stage in the middle with a pole going up to the next cloud.  I think the stage will be covered by 2 or 3 inches of the Dew so that, when the Blonde nurse bends over backwards to dip her ponytail in the Dew, her nose will be out to inflate her FunBags!  :D

My ‘69 Charger runs so fine and fast

Those who challenge her are few

Vroom, vroom, vroom when her tank is full

Of that good ol’ Diet Mountain Dew

The Answer Belongs To Donald J.

My contribution to The Summer Of Love, Revisited

How many eggs must you break

Before you can get an omelet?

How many soldiers must die for you

Before you call off all bets?

How many kids must you kill in a day

Before you break a sweat?

The answer, my friend, belongs to Donald J.

The answer belongs to Donald J.    

They Call Me Tommy

-- The Midnight Poet, Revisited --

Can’t see no flashing lights

Can’t hear no ringing bells

Ain’t got no distractions

Writes by sense of smell

Ain’t seen nothing like him

He writes for you and me

That deaf, dumb and blind man

Sure writes some mean poetry

They call him Tommy, got a word for you

I’m the Midnight Poet, got a word or two

Seeing me, you can hear the glory

Hearing me, you can see the heat

Following me thro the light

You get excitement at my feet

       

Eat your heart out, Pete Townshend!

Daddy, Are You Ready For This?

I realize that this is more than a month early, but, frankly, I just don’t know where I’ll be then -- I figure that I’ll go ahead while the getting is good. 

Daddy, are you ready for this?
(go Meredith, go Meredith, go Meredith, go)

Cruisin’ to my 14th birthday
With my ponytail bouncin’ freely
Hot enough to melt a snowcone
Daddy, daddy, I’m eye candy!

Oo oo, are you ready for this?
Oo oo, puttin’ on quite a show
(go Meredith, go Meredith)
Oo (go Meredith, go)

How did it happen?
No one warned me
I turned my back
And now, eye candy!

Daddy, are you ready for this?
(go Meredith, go Meredith, go Meredith, go)

Happening With

As she, she gets out, she gets about

The world will notice, the world will shout

She’s turning thirteen, the world will say

O happy birthday, the world will “yay!”

Oh, Meredith, oh, Meredith

Happening with, oh, Meredith        

Happening with, oh, Meredith

She is, she’s a babe-o-licious

With a blonde pony-tail hangin’ down

A wiggle in her walk

A giggle in her talk

She makes the rockin’ world go ‘round!

As she, as she starts to make her way

All that I can say, Happy B’Day!  

The Years We Wasted

Sometimes I get in a Country mood and write Country poetry which, I think, would make a good country song.  If only I knew someone in Country music.  [rolleyes] 

Um, the years we wasted

They seem so long ago

Can we ever get them back!?

I don’t know, I don’t know

But it is worth a shot

I have always loved you

Can we get the years back!?

I don’t know, let’s try to

Over there, I saw you cry and sing the blues

Over here, there was nothing that I could do

Is it too late, oh, to get the years back!?

I don’t know, let’s try to, let’s try to

Oh, the years we wasted

Time marches on, it won’t slow

Is it too late to get them back!?

I don’t know, maybe so