Went to Sam’s Club yesterday,
when Checking out to Our Dismay,
no more Helpful/Smiling Faces,
Self-Check Kiosks in their Places.
As Sam’s and Others move High Tech,
“Why Not” a Dud that Seems a Wreck.
My solution – do I Dare –
to Fix a System called Healthcare.
Acting as “The Idea Proctor,”
eliminate Seeing a Doctor.
No Waiting Times – Appointment Stages,
or Magazines with Curled Up Pages.
Open Gowns – Operations.
Show up when Suits you Best,
no Need to Pay plus then be Stressed.
Tear out the Rooms – the Check In Desk,
Open Space that’s less Grotesque.
Arrive whenever You darn Please,
exam Yourself in a Breeze.
Instead of People just a Machine,
treat All the Same and not Demean.
Push buttons Here and buttons There,
no Need to Strip to Underwear.
To start Things out – Chips might be Used,
attached to Organs and then Fused,
to Guts, and Brains, and surely Hearts,
perhaps Bar Codes on Private Parts?
The Bugs at First will all be Minor,
as Things progress it Will get Finer.
For those Who won’t Go out their Door,
that’s what In-Home Kits are For.
“Wattle” you Going to Do,
when Age sneaks Up on You.
Gravity takes its Toll,
sagging Jowls you can’t Control.
Fight it Every single Inch,
surely use a “Wattle Winch.”
Shore it Up with Masking Tape,
perhaps Back to a Younger Shape.
Maybe just Embrace it All,
as “Wattle Creep” starts to Sprawl.
When your Chin begins to Roam,
love your “Wattle Metronome.”
Another year Has rolled Around,
never Fails to me Astound.
This Little Girl my Spirits Lift,
I know That She’s a Precious Gift.
Grandpa is what She calls Me,
name me Grateful – I’d Agree.
Hope she’ll Always understand,
what Photos mean to this Old Man.
Skin should Come like Folded Clothes,
use it Once and then dispose.
One for Work – One for Play,
One for Comfort – Day to Day.
Green or Red – Black or White,
Polka Dot might look Just Right.
Tan would Come in any Shade,
Melanoma not be Made.
Hair would Be an Added Choice,
Toned and Buff so all Rejoice.
Old Folks skin Would have No Wrinkle,
Spots of Youth within there Sprinkle.
Wear it Once then through Away,
to be Embraced I’d have to Say,
Enhance when Worn and Likeable,
the Skin must be Recyclable.
My solution for World Peace,
Hostilities would surely Cease.
Would be “The” News Cycle Hottie,
using Just a Porta Potty.
Collect them From around the Lands,
Construction Sites to Hard Rock Fans.
Then select the Ripest Few,
you Know it’s What we gotta Do.
Set Them out in Sunshine Rays,
and Leave them There for Many Days.
They’re done for Sure if Smell for Miles,
burns your Eyes and don’t bring Smiles.
Bring together Feuding Leaders,
with Cell Phones and Tiny Heaters.
In separate Potty’s – must go There,
wearing but Their Underwear.
Heavy Chains to Lock them In,
until Discussions they Begin.
Can’t Come out ‘til They Agree,
to Bare it All and shout “Whoopee!”
If they Can’t reach a Solution,
then There’s only one Conclusion,
Perhaps they Will no longer Spar,
While Standing in the Reservoir.
All in All this Plan will Work,
though Some might Label me a Jerk.
Results the End for Host’s to See,
from “Potty Mouth Diplomacy,”
A Google Dude who Acts quite Young,
really Stepped in Obtuse Dung.
His argument on Gender Gap,
is Totally a Load of Crap!!!!!
Base this on the Forty Years,
I worked with Women as my Peers.
Not to Mention Fifty Total,
Marriage that’s not Anecdotal.
Experience equates with Age,
coming From an Elder Sage.
Hope eternal May sprout Wings,
don’t Speak of really Stupid Things.
If She’ll have him – Mate or Friend,
be By his Side until the End.
This Point of View he’ll still Commit,
I’ll know He’s truly full of S__T!!!!!
At Seven-one — Seen/Heard it All,
the Dreams alone are Standing Tall.
So I felt this Was the Time,
to Bare my Soul in This Here Rhyme.
Sex peaks our Imagination,
been that Way since our Creation.
So I’ll share My Storied Past,
even though None ever Asked.
Stimulating some might Say,
guess I’ve Tried it Every Way.
Stories that I’ve never Told,
can’t Believe I am so Bold.
Experiment of Sorts I Say,
how many Views have Come my Way.
What else I Wrote is just Made Up,
I guess I’ll call it “Rhyming Fluff.”
that’s what YouTube means to Me.
Not to Post my Aging Mug,
just Hear Old Songs I Dug.
Never liked the Flip DJ’s,
turned me Off in many Ways.
Always seemed to miss the Mark,
not the Case with Young Dick Clark.
Memry, well It’s kind of Shot,
glad the Internet I Got.
Pick a Year and Lists Appear,
select the Tunes that I hold Dear.
Listen and the Memories Flow,
relive the Moments – Let them Go.
don’t Watch the Screen or Boring Ads,
perhaps that Is a “YouTube Bad’s?
Boy and his Dog transcends Time,
from Cuddle Time to Dirt and Grime.
Pals for Sure – a Special Bond,
there for Life and Well Beyond.
But in this Case “She” Let me Down,
though Clearly seeing What’s Around.
Creeping close – the Camera Showing,
and Snap this Shot without Me Knowing.
Are those You see and Them you Don’t,
some You fix – Most you Won’t.
Baggage comes With any Link,
some Relationships they Sink.
People can’t Live Day and Night,
without a Scrabble or a Fight.
Warts show Up and stick Around,
live with Them or Battleground?
Fifty Years show Many Warts,
Have to Tell the Truth of Sorts.
She has Some That make me Sore,
but I have Many, Many More.