When Brains Are In Season

(to the Zombies Time of the Season)

When the brains
Are in season
I’m a hungry guy
Pickled lobes
Cerebellum quiches
And then I’ll fry
Up tasty glands

And if I had a mind to
Nibble hands
Till thoughtful treat has come
For when brains are in season
I’m frothing

I obtained
(what’s his name)
Maybe Danny
(spicy laddie this dish)
Quite a dish he be.

His medulla
(in a stew-a)
Mighty fine
(squeeze of lime cook slow)
Cook slow then add his rack of ribs.

Really I’m not pro meat
I can’t stop
A zombie thing you know
When the brains are in season
I’m gobbling

Frightened dame
(I attained)
Maybe nanny
(or a granny I swear)
A delicious treat

Salt is shaken
(add some bacon)
In a brine
(mighty fine then throw)
Then throw on “Kiss the Zombie” bib

You may think I’m lowly
That’s just rot
My diet’s apropros
When the brains are in season
I’m noshing.

Copyright 2010 Warren Baker

Lost Without My Rug

(to Bread's Lost Without Your Love)

Lost and feelin’ prone
The Rogaine bought
Appears to hamper hair to grow
I’m bereft,
My shiny head is on display
No length to cover pate
And my hats I’ve thrown away.

I’m pondering my pride
While searching cabinets
The hide I must apply
For the mop atop will make a man of me
Hormonal guarantee
My locks of liberty

But I’m lost without my rug
Should have bought two cos’ the fit is nice n’ snug
Head is blinding as
A light with harmful rays
The bright within a blaze
I’m seen from outer space

It seems I’ll have to scrap
And maybe use those from my back

Yes it’s tough without my rug
Tried some paint I kept inside a plastic jug
Apple look I have
The green has got me miffed
I look like Granny Smith
I hope my stock will split

Of this my mind is sure
Ron Popeil has got my cure

Copyright 2010 Warren Baker

Parade of Clowns (November Torment)

Author's Note: Our system of government is a wonderful system made of representation and transitions of power. However, getting elected in the US brings out the worst in candidates. I guess it's so we can see how much of an ass they can be when they get elected.

(to Speed of Sound by Coldplay)

A throng
Are showing their ends
The tongue it talks
Engaged to offend
Old song
The melody nice
The goal I know
Negative snipe
They throw
Mud don’t you know?
You must pick a side
The masses tell you so
So long
My sanity slides
I feel the vibe
Of an autumn decline

Play tough
Commercials at night
Vagaries crooning
Out to fan the fright
Drink up
Manic debris
Any flavor you want
With a slice of cheese
Through fog
Of edited jabs
Sense the big bucks
Pulling the strands
My heart
I fear it will stop
Before the seething
And trash shut up.

Big top ploys
And circus sounds
Funny faces
Smiles abound
As we keep watching a parade of clowns
To see who is an honest man
What they’re saying
Fertilizes ground
And you can smell it
In the underhand.

Hear cheers
Decorum decline
Loudest protesters
Hype loudly defined
The clinking of china cups
In hands of minahs
Parrot stuff
Designed
For no one like me
For I think and I often read
Your god would have me believe
The heavenly best will
Guzzle tea

Frenzied joy
In rings of round
Painted faces
Come to town
So jaded watching this parade of clowns
Who knows if he’s an honest man?
Facts are fictions
It’s so turned around
If you could feel it then you’d take a bath
And if you don’t you’ll likely get a rash

Voting time
November torment
Strange sounds
Promises said
Some get broke
And some get bent
Oooh

Words flow slyly from parade of clowns
To show you they are honest men
Clowns are winking
And their drums will pound
I can’t believe them
And they all annoy.
I find ‘em pleasin’
Like a hemorrhoid.

Copyright 2010 Warren Baker

Oprah Gives Away Kernersville, NC

K. Letterman News Agency

Oprah Winfrey, who has ruled the television talk shows since she made her debut, gave away Kernersville, North Carolina on her farewell broadcast yesterday.

Mary Jenkins of Park Place, New Jersey, who knows nothing about North Carolina, says she’s underwhelmed with the gift.

“I really wanted Raleigh,” she said. “But Oprah knows all, so it must be destiny or a very cruel joke. A refrigerator would have been nice.”

Jenkins, a part-time receptionist for a chemical plant, said she has no immediate plans to change the city.

“I need to get a map first,” she said. “I hope they have a Belks there. I like Belks.”

Oprah has owned Kernersville since 2007 since she won the North Carolina city in a poker game.

The last episode of Oprah, which aired Friday, featured many giveaways. Gifts included a small Chinese man, the Rice-a-Roni factory in California, and Mel Gibson.

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Kramden Comes Alive!

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Rest

Fatigue comes fast like rain
Even handed and no prejudice
Whirlwind spins slowly and simply
Until
Mind finds purchase in pillow
Soft and easy leads to fall
And summer is gone again.

wb 2010

Meet the Weasels

(click for a higher resolution picture)

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Labor Day Haikus

Morning

Coffee on the deck
Cool breeze...hey...wait a minute
When did summer leave?


Afternoon

Sawing through tree limbs
Trimming hedge electric'ly
Trimming power cord.


Evening

Grill fascinates me
Tis a manly appliance
Controlled gas passing.

I Left My Harp In Sam Clam's Disco

(to Tony Bennett's I Left My Heart in San Francisco)

Our swimphony the sweetest
The coral swished and sang
A soiree under foam
I plucked and gladly played

Played the Tommy Dorsal tome
Where the Mussel Shoals were snappin’.
Arriving home
“It is missing!” I exclaimed.

I left my harp
In Sam Clam’s Disco
Next to a gull
Who cawed to me.
I saw her waving at the bar
Near fishies who were stars
Near siren’s song
I left her there
Unaware.

My porpoise there
At Sam Clam’s disco
To whale the tunes
In urchin sea.

And now I’m floating to
Sam Clam’s disco
If harp is gone
Tis beach for me

Copyright 2010 Warren Baker

Vogon Poetry Corner (volume 1)

(Poetry originally translated by the late Taro Riser)

The Comfort of Brains and Behinds

If I were a couch with cushions carefree
Take my seat and vacuum the kernels of yesterday’s kettle corn
Behind, so bulbous and seated, tether me to my L2 vertebrae
And rock me gently until grazing goats gouge my ganglia.
Your lullaby vacuums the caverns of my medulla oblongata.
I am refreshed with your spicy syrup of spores.


My Iron, Cold and Angly

You wrinkle this sheet like an emu who seeks a dung beetle in a tiny patch of filth
Do not hinder my sweaty palms of destiny and vehicular malfeasance
Your willful metallic water dripper dost not phase my granular insect infested thorax
“Nay!” I phleghmatically drip into a case of ripe avocados.
The day has copulated grandly and my will has been expedited by a fur pocked hammer.


Pondering a Patch of Lint on Crust of Pizza

Oh filth on a plate of rusty carburetor screws
Lube the lugs of yesterday forthwith until the seals howl "Momma!"
I see you deposit gunk so easily on my Noritake
Wherefore art is my pepperoni?
See how your garment sheds like a dandruff infested alligator...