Category Archives: humor

When it comes to travel and music, look for that driving beat, something that doesn’t drive you crazy.

Hit It Off.

We’d take in a long road trip getting to our holiday destination
So we settled back after settling on the good old Oldies station,
On cruise control we hummed along, signal clear and loud and strong,
Golden oldies, transported back to the old days for which we long.

But on this long trip, something felt strange indeed,
Today our treasured songs sounded somewhat hackneyed,
Every song they played we’d heard many times before,
All too soon my partner in harmony started to snore.

I heard the Eagles reiterate their Californian lament
And just as I thought they’d never leave, they went,
Up until now I’d found them soothingly appealing,
Two songs later I’d lost that peaceful easy feeling.

On the hour I was treated to the best of Fleetwwod Mac,
Six of the best (and the rest) back to back to back,
Ten minutes later and again, the Eagles were checkin’ in,
Now those turkeys welcome was beginin’ to wear thin.

But so long as as my beloved lay a’lolling in her seat
I vowed to listen to whatever sins songs they’d repeat,
‘Tween that and the snoring from my sweet somnolent wife
I spent the most boring day I’ve ever heard in my life.

I swear I’d hand Mephistopheles my tarnished soul
To save me hearing another tinkling trill by Billy Joel,
I’m so over the tragedys of ‘Staying Alive’ and ‘Jive Talking’
-Anything in the catalogue of adenoidal Bee Gees squawking.

Back then, this guy was the most avid champion of Queen,
Now, let’s say this fan of flamboyant Freddie is a has-been,
All that Rhapsodic bombast- oh, and on that histrionic note
I’d love to cram Meatloaf’s every last word down his throat.

Let’s not forget the gals, like the countrified poppy Shania Twain
And her patented line-dancing toons that tap deep into your brain,
And once I loved the pitch and depth in that song by Celine Dione…
But now, couldn’t she just Jack it in, and not go on and on and on…

I drove on, the sun shone on, morning dragged into the afternoon,
Every familiar song had me hope my darling would wake up- soon,
As the miles and day wore on my sore eyes and ears began burning;
More Fleetwood Mac- or a dodgy Big Mac- set my stomach churning.

At sunset I heard a yawn and saw my sleeping beauty had awoken,
At last, along with her spell, my unwanted record could be broken,
Off went the radio, and to say the silence was awkward wasn’t wrong;
So much for happy trails, reminiscences, and a jolly good ol’ singalong

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First comes the bitter disappointment of rejection, then the acceptance of losing- but who’s griping? Well, I am. Still.

A Kick In The Guts.

Since a humourous poetry competition rejected the fine words I’d written
I’ve been forced to take some time to review the ill-fated verse submitten,
Now to add to my mental misery, by a virulent stomach flu I’ve been smitten,
If the first upset left me sick as a dog, the second leaves me weak as a kitten,
Regurgitating my turned down offerings was unsettling I don’t mind admittin’,
Keeping cruel criticism and chicken soup down ain’r easy- from where I’m sittin’.
 

Fifty years and billions of bucks ago we went boldly forth, shootin’ for the moon. Now we can look up and say ‘been there, done that.’

Twinkle In The Sky.

It was fifty years ago on this auspicious day
Neil Armstrong had these prophetic words to say,
‘One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,’
Before stepping out to see what in Heaven he might find.

Will there be diamonds, just lying around?
Will there be gold, or the good oil underground?
A planet full of platinum- or plutonium- ours to take?
Some star-spangled silver to make into a lunar keepsake?

And what worldly wonders the brave spaceman saw;
Just rocks and dust, dust and rocks, rocks by the score,
Dutifully into the sample satchel Neil tossed in the rubble;
A dumb bag of rocks costing all this time, travel and trouble.

See that tiny twinkle, fading on the moons crust?
Fifty years on Apollo 11 sits, forever gathering dust,
Back on Earth NASA scientists say it has all been worth it;
Pity NASA’s accountants, they’re still struggling to unearth it.

In the Cricket World Cup the true fans stayed up to watch India defeat New Zealand. Ummm, the outcome was not the result most had anticipated…

A Sad Business.

It’s a hard old life for our poor hard-working Sanjay,
Manning the tills, at the counter eighteen hours a day,
Opening the doors at the first hint of dawns early light,
Not closing those doors till the clock ticks past midnight.

But yesterday Sanjay appeared bleary weary and grey-faced
And on his always-open door this declaration he tearily placed,
‘Closed this morning, thanks to the Black Cap over-achievement’
This Cup-upset leaves Sanjay mourning an unexpected bereavement.

He had them swaying in the sun and sand to the Bossa Nova beat. Take your final bow, Jaoa Gilberto.

Ciao, Jaoa Gilberto.

‘Bye to the man who made ‘The Girl From Ipenema,’
That ode to the hot-blooded Latin dreamer- and schemer,
Jaoa’s beach partying days are done,
For him, the Ipeneman sands have run,
He’s had his time, his moment in the sun.
For Jaoa Gilberto, the reclusive master of the Bossa Nova
The dreams of golden beaches and glistening peaches are over.

Kentucky Jim Beam warehouse burns, lock, stock and barrels. The story, distilled.

Cast Upon The Waters.

Laden to the brim with prime Jim Beam
The ol’ Kentucky warehouse caught afire,
It proved dispiriting to the Fire Fighting team
So sorrowfully trying to water down that pyre.

What did not burn flowed slowly downstream,
What more could a lucky Kentucky fisherman desire?
Fish flopping happily into the net is an anglers dream-
Steamed pickled fish out of water, straight into the fryer.

We welcome the winter solstice in the southern hemisphere. Even when I try to escape into fantasy I find it’s still a cold cold world. Oh yeah, spoiler alert.

Chilled Out.

It’s a cold day in June and winter is here,
Over the land a chill bitter wind doth blow.

Now my nights drag on and on and I fear
This last winter of discontent only adds to the woe.

My hopes for the future faded, finale, mid-year,
Winter’s come and gone, and I’m soooo over Snow.