The Car

Keep the car running
There's grit in my coffee.
Give me more ham.
Poem?

What? No comments?

I'm hurt.
Profoundly so.
To find my dog
has left the badger
alone
for the night.

Soldiers of Fortune

Fling and Flung
brothers-in-arms
march upon you.

Fields of glory
fields of corn
trampled underfoot.

Spring sprung the
trap, which holds
the bubble wrap.

Kinky!

Say What?

Those crazy Germans.
Always with the mustaches.
C'mon man!
Make with the paint!