Want to know a secret?

Would you like to hear my secret talent?

I’m a poet.

(WARNING: to avoid permanent brain damage, don’t read onward!)

Mind you, I don’t write poetry like you might think of. Perhaps, you think of The Raven, The Lady of Shalott, or The Highwayman. Mine is far classier than that.

Example, you call for? Oh, alright - since you begged. This is a piece I like to call ‘Musings of a Bored Detective’.

(be afraid)

"Sometimes I wonder
what's going on.
... (cricket chirp)
It seems to me that
red hair should ensure
that I be ruler of the world.
I have a gut of steel
and a receding hairline
But it seems to me
that I ought to rule the world."

And, here’s a poem I wrote that’s based on a true story. Oh, yes! It’s called ‘The Street Sign’.

"I thought it said 'Edgar',
but it said 'cedar'.
I had been so hopeful
but it said 'cedar'.
My dreams were dashed
I almost wept
because it said 'cedar'.
Why couldn't it say 'Edgar'
instead of saying 'cedar'?
It just didn't love me
like I thought it did.
So now, I wait for it 
to change it's mind.
And to decide, instead,
to say 'cedar'."

Oh, and here's 'Happiness'.

"Goats be happy if you sly!
Happy goats mean happy duck.
Ducks fly at night-time jack.
But what be that stark-raving?
"Converse!" cries the happy cow.
"Hark!" cries a dad. "An idiot!"
And everybody dies.
The dead happy goat yells in delight
"Party in Deadtowncity!"
And everybody dies.
Fly, fly little dead peeps.
Fly safely to your party.
**And diiiiiiiiiiiiiiie.**"

Uh, here's a favorite, 'The Wonders of Outer Space'.

"We fly up, up, up.
I see stars, and space.
Planets and moons.
And my old co-worker, Bob.
Suddenly, I hear ground control.
"There problemo, senorita. Abor-"
Then all we hear is static.
I look out the window again.
All I see is stars, stars, ground,
stars, ground, stars, then a LOT of ground.
Death comes quickly to those not prepared.
Ha."

In conclusion, I leave you with ‘The Uncommon Happening of Pringles’.

"When Aslan shakes his mane,
there will be Pringles
Dorth pickles manifest themselves 
in pulchritudinous sausages?
I don't think so.
But hark, what harmonious cats
eat the clock, of which I have
admired for these 17 long years.
Is that a bandage that I see
upon your nose?
I'm not quite sure if I should find
a large cactus beneath your toe,
but if I did, would I learn that
you found a large number of 
dark eyebrows?
Who knows the way to Bree?
Could I find my true love there?
Or would she just kill me first?
Could she forgive me for the ferrets?
I guess I'll never know."