THE PAPERBACK BOOK

It started out to be such fun -
Our "rough it" camping trip.
We'd planned for months to spend this time
In rugged fellowship.

Our bodies lean - our backpacks light -
We four survivalists
Departed as the day began
A paddling through the mists.

The sun rose up and brought some warmth
To bodies stiff from bed,
And showered light on rocks and trees
And Perch and Copperhead.

And as our day wore quickly on
Our bodies lagged behind,
Until our breaks were longer than
Our journey plan's design.

So when the time for stopping for
The night eventually came,
You didn't hear complaint from me -
My comrads felt the same.

We built a fire and cooked our meal
And settled down to chat;
But chatting took some effort so
There wasn't much of that.

Then I pulled out my paperback
And snuggled in my bag
To top a full day off with just
The perfect kind of tag.

But as I read my paperback,
Six eyes bore into me;
And I soon realized my friends'
Combustability.

It seems I was the only one
Who'd brought a book that day;
And now my friends appeared to be
Considering foul play.

So as I finished Chapter One,
I took my hunting knife,
And sliced it cruelly from the book
Where it had spent its life.

But as I passed it to my friend,
Her smile was my reward
As she and I tucked in to savor
Every written word.

But then we felt two pairs of eyes
Accusing us of sin,
So when I finished Chapter Two -
I did that chapter in.

She passed her part to our third friend
And she got Chapter Two;
And as we three began to read
Our fourth friend came unglued.

And so our night progressed that way,
I'd read and slice and pass
Until we all had read that book
And bedtime came at last.

And as we packed next morning
And floated down the stream,
The pages were the evidence
of "Paperback Blaspheme."










The Red-Neck's Swimming Pool

I saw a sight the other day
That like to blew my mind -
A mobile home with chain-linked fence,
And chicken coops behind.

And plunked down in the front yard was
A metal tank so big
That when the red-neck swam his laps
It made mud for the pig.

The iced tea in the mason jar
Was on a wooden box;
And on the tree were pants and belt,
A flannel shirt and socks.

The cowboy boots sat on the steps
And the red-neck didn't blink
When he saw he was surrounded
As the cattle came to drink.

Oh, the red-neck's swimming pool
May only be a water tank;
But the red-neck saved a wad of dough-
Just take that to the bank.









THE FLU

I peer into the mirror, and what peers back is a sight.
The apparition's hair appears to stand almost upright.

With hanky clasped and nose aglow and face an ashen hue,
I'm finally forced to say the words,"I guess I have the flu."

I wasn't going to get it - I just won't stand for that.
The flu is for those other guys who "veg" and eat high fat.

I wash my hands and eat my greens - this can't be what I've got.
I know one thing, I want my money back for my flu shot.





MIND CONTROL

I'm getting just a little tired
Of coping with control.
Just when you think things are OK,
You have to pay a toll.

First animal control comes by
And slaps you with a fine.
Then the fleas and ticks must be controlled
On your out-of-hand canine.

Then you cruise control right down the road
At a pretty awesome clip.
'Til the traffic cop controls your speed
With his little radar blip.

You need weed control when you plant your lawn,
And flood control when it rains,
And crowd control when you have a mob,
And air control for the planes.

Our President needs spin control
And weight control for his girth.
And we can't forget a big concern -
We need control for birth.

And if we don't watch what we write,
(Some folks can't take a joke),
We might awake to find
"Poetic-license's" been revoked.

Oh yes - "they" may control my life,
And make me toe the line.
But I'll be blessed.
I'm never gonna let 'em have my mind.





SMALL STUFF

The toothpaste's smeared around the sink.
The cap is on the floor.
My shoes don't match, one earring's lost,
And someone's at the door.

Hey - I'm not gonna sweat the small stuff.
I say again, won't sweat the small stuff anymore.
When the small stuff starts to take control,
Gonna crunch it on the floor.

A friend called with a tale
To which I just cannot relate.
My gas gauge sits slap dab on "e,"
And I am running late.

Won't sweat that small stuff - I tell you true
Won't sweat the small stuff now, my friend.
If you let the small stuff get to you,
It'll get you in the end.

I don't have time for lunch today -
The bank won't cash my check.
I broke a nail, my car won't start,
And I can't turn my neck.

But I'm not gonna sweat the small stuff.
Won't lie to you - sometimes it's tough.
But you can't give place to the small stuff
Simply tell it - "That's enough!!"

My dinner's frozen like a rock,
There's a pounding in my head.
I thought that things could not get worse -
Then I learned Elvis's dead.

But I'm not gonna sweat the small stuff.
I say again - won't sweat it anymore, my chum.
'Cause if you let the small stuff win,
You're way past help - you're dumb.

KOOL AID

The Kool Aid flowed like water
At Bible Time this year.
The red and purple mustache
Was worn from ear to ear.

The seed was planted in each heart
And watered with a treat.
Next year I won't wear sandals
'Cause the Kool Aid stained my feet.

The Saga of Black 'An Gus

The newsman suavely read his notes,
And smoothly told his tale
Of Black An Gus - two hapless cows
Whose train had been derailed.

When finished with his sad account,
I heard his buddy say -
"Hey pal, do you suppose those were
Black Angus gone astray?"

MENAGE A TROIS

pronounced "May Naj Ah Twah"

The frog sat shivering in the cold
As geese flew overhead.
"I wish that I could fly with them
To sunny shores," he said

A pair of geese heard his lament
And stopped to chat with him,
And as they passed the day, these three
They quickly became friends.

One goose suggested that the frog
Accomp'ny them that day,
But geese are pretty stupid
And they couldn't find a way.

The frog put on his thinking cap
And soon hatched one fine plan.
He had the geese pick up a reed
Each holding one far end.

The frog clamped on the middle part
With strong and powerful jaws.
And off they flew,
This most peculiar group - menage a trois.

The villagers marveled at the sight
And praised the great design
And wondered who could be so smart
To hatch a plan so fine.

The frog was now puffed up with pride,
And bound to claim the fame,
Let go the reed, and fell to earth,
And once more pride brought shame.





SATURDAY MORNING

The sun has been up for some time
And I am still in bed.
I only get one day each week
To let my mind re-tread.

I rise each day before the sun
(Unless the sun's too soon).
I know - let's see if we can get
The sun to rise at noon.





SHOES

I like 'em shiny, clean as spit.
Don't even mind them scuffed.
Imelda Marcos set the goal,
And I can't get enough.

I want a pair for every day,
And don't mean in the week.
I've walking, Sunday, swimming shoes,
And even shoes that squeak.

If at this point, you think I'm nuts,
Then mock me if you choose,
'Cause when I walk into my house -
I must kick off my shoes.





THE TANGLED WEB

Eyes fixed on the monitor - fingers flying fast,
Minutes ticking into hours - the day flies quickly past.

First we see the "web site's found," then "waiting for reply."
My back grows stiff, my glasses fog - I can't unglue my eye.

The information highway has knocked me to my knees
My fingers falter - then press on as I grope for the keys.

I tell myself - "just one more hit before I go to bed."
But then I have to tie another knot into the web.

And if next morning I'm still there, I hope you'll understand,
I died a surfing on the web, my keyboard in my hand.




PLASTIC BOXES

How did we live without them -
Where did we put our "stuff?"
Our closets and our dresser drawers
Could never hold enough.

Just think of all the "things" that we
Would have to live without.
If Wal-Mart didn't sell them,
We would just be lost, no doubt.

I'm thankful for the plastic box
In which I place great store.
But seems I'm always one box short -
So I simply buy one more.

I have just one suggestion
For the "plastic boxes" guys -
They need to make a great big box
That measures coffin size.

VIAGRA

Viagra now is all the rage.
I hear that men have turned the page.

No longer will they fear to fail
No problem now to be a male.

Relationships will be sublime.
They'll live forever in their prime.

I wonder if their thinking's marred -
Relationships are not that hard.

Women want men who will commit
To put them first before their "kit."





THE CAT

Jacob and Hannah and Pat
Ran after a strip-ed cat

They caught him that day,
Then he started to spray,

And the skunk had the very last laugh.

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Copyright 1998 Judy Sadler

Email: alfie@galstar.com