POEMS IN PRAISE OF PRACTICALLY NOTHING

Ode to a boor
The jungle is a kind of grove
Where elephants, lions and Rajah’s rove.
It is not the sort of place that I
Should choose to live in, or to die.
But I would just as soon be in it
As to hear you blab another minute.
Rudyard Kipling

Where we are
Black is white, the sky is brown.
Bad is good, the world is flat.
Nothing to do but live with that.
The world sits now, with upside down
And waits for a knight to turn it around.
Bob B

Reminiscences
My hookie days are over,
My pilot light is out.
What used to be my sex appeal
Is now my water spout.

Time was, when of its own accord
From my trousers it would spring.
But know I’ve got a full time job
Just to find the blasted thing.

It used to be embarrassing
The way it would behave.
For every single morning
It would stand and watch me shave.

As my old age approaches
It sure gives me the blues
To see it hang its little head
And watch me tie my shoes.
Un-confessed author

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