If I Go Crazy, Then Will You Still Call Me A Poet?

If I'm ever on drugs for a medical procedure,
Give me a pen and paper, please,
'Cause I've got a feeling I might pull a Lewis Carroll
And come out with a bestselling masterpiece.

Abracadabra!

Want to see a magic trick?
No matter where or who you are
I can tell you exactly what you are doing
At this very moment. I know, it's bizarre.

Let's see, first close your eyes...
I said close your eyes...
Keep them closed! You're definitely peeking...
Close them! I can't do it otherwise.

Okay, fine. I'll try it anyway...
Abracadabra! You are right now
Reading a poem on your computer.
Nailed it! And now I know what your thinking too: wow!

I Would Like to Speak to Whoever's in Charge of Spider Neighborhood Construction

I'm sorry, spiders, that I today
Reeked havoc on your homes,
Forced you to your catacombs,
And crushed your dreams (and exoskeletons) in every possible way.

Perhaps you should consider building future subdivisions
In areas not used for airsoft,
Or maybe set them more aloft—
Just be more careful with your zoning decisions.

You see, my friends, when being shot
With stinging plastic pellets,
And accumulating a collection of welts,
Its easy not to see your webs and in them to be caught.

So take my advice and make everyone glad
By sticking to insects as your source of food.
I'm sorry I don't mean to be rude,
But a web in my face sure makes me mad.

Teenage Wasteland

There was a kazoo that lived in a shoe,

Not smelling the stench nor moving an inch,

Having neither ability nor the agility

To do even these in that shoe.

Close by lived a shirt, stained with mud and with dirt.

Not knowing its neighbor, the shirt was in favor

Of using the ground on which comfort it found

For sleep by which it was held deep.

There was also a bed, not far overhead,

On which covers were strewn, where was also a spoon—

Out of place though it seemed it was happy and beamed

When the sun would its great circle run.

There were papers scattered everywhere, a textbook here, a pencil there.

The curtains were closed on just one side, the chest’s drawers all open wide.

They didn't mind chaos and valued the loss

Of order within their borders.

A small, red deck of cards had no proper regard

For its box lying under some socks;

And some pants on the floor, right in front of the door,

Would block any person who knocked.

For he who doesn't know what this poem’s to show

He will know what I mean in the room of a teen,

For there he may stand in the mystical land

Of the shoe and the little kazoo.

A Hole in My Heart

Peter, I understand you've gone away

To do big things and that’s okay,

But I've just one question left to ask:

How much of your wardrobe is up for grabs?

Not Again...

I want to write a poem

But nothing comes to mind

Why on earth does inspiration

Always seem so hard to find?

I can write about anything

(As you may have seen),

But why are clever reasons to write

So few and far between?

A letter from a fan:

James, this is the third poem you've written about writers block.

Find a different topic please

You're a brilliant writer but it's getting old.

Thanks for reading. ~the entire country of Belize (Apparently I have a rather substantial Central American fan base.)

My response:

Dear Belize, I appreciate your honesty.

The trouble is, with writers block,

There's only one topic I have in stock—

And that, of course, is writer's block.

Trust me, it's a frustrating dilemma,

A terrible enigma, 

Almost worse than that of Simba.

Sincerely, ~Rush Limbaugh (because nothing rhymes with James)



Okay, I admit, writing my own fan mail may be a little desperate.

On Matters of the Utmost Importance

Which came first: the chicken or the chicken sandwich?
Did God design the chicken and leave us to discover its wonderful edible application,
Or did He create the sandwich and resolve to design a creature worthy of its deliciousness
Which would bring us all such amazing taste sensation elation?

A Prayer for Pete

My brother goes where You will take him,
And Lord I know You won’t forsake him.
Please keep him safe and let him know
That You are present wherever he may go.