I built myself I time machine
then traveled back to yesterday,
and very, very soon
I’ll re-create my time machine
and travel once again
to yesterday where, like before,
I’ll wait two days and then
I’ll build myself a time machine.
I’m such a nincompoop.
I never should have made this thing.
I’m stuck inside a loop.
My goldfish took up tennis.
They installed a little net
at the bottom of their fishtank
for their first official set.
They got tennis balls and racquets.
They got tennis shoes and shorts,
for my fish are fond of tennis
more than any other sports.
It’s a funny thing to watch them.
when they practice every day,
as the tennis balls they serve each other
always float away.
I’ve recently returned from Mars
I went for several years.
I rode in Martian motorcars,
bought Martian souvenirs.
I went to Martian movies
and saw Martian movie stars,
attended Martian concerts
and heard Martians play guitars.
I ate in Martian restaurants
and went to Martian schools.
I played on Martian tennis courts
and swam in Martian pools.
I hung around with Martian girls
and talked to Martian boys.
I went to Martian shopping malls
and played with Martian toys.
At last I’m back on planet Earth
from out among the stars.
So why does everyone I see here
act like they’re from Mars?
With a basketball, a bowling ball,
and baseball bat he came.
He had golf clubs, cleats and catcher’s mitts
to help him in the game.
He had Rollerblades and elbow pads
with climbing ropes and straps,
plus athletic shorts and running shoes
to race a couple laps.
He was schlepping all his scuba gear,
his snorkel and his mask.
He had suitable accoutrements
for nearly any task.
He had helmets, hats and headgear.
He had uniforms galore.
Why, he even brought the costume
of a Spanish matador.
But though Benson Baxter came prepared
for almost every sport,
he forgot his tennis racquet,
so they threw him off the court.
I am Merlo the Magnificent
I’m skilled at sleight of hand.
I’m a master prestidigitator;
greatest in the land.
Yes, at making things invisible
I’m truly the premier.
There is nothing that I cannot make
I have hidden doves and rabbits
in the lining of my cloak.
I’ve concealed my stage assistant
in a camouflage of smoke.
I’ve evaporated elephants,
put tigers out of view.
I’ve disguised the Eiffel Tower
and the Wall of China too.
I have made a mountain vanish
and an ocean fade from sight.
I’ve eclipsed the midday sun
to turn the afternoon to night.
I’m undoubtedly the best
at getting things to disappear,
so would someone please explain this to me:
Why are you still here?
Oh, spinach is one of my favorite foods;
I savor each wonderful bite.
I eat it each day
served up every which way.
I also enjoy it at night.
And yes, I like sauerkraut, turnips and leeks,
and all kinds of peppers and shoots.
I think that the beet,
is just perfect to eat
like all other vegetable roots.
I love every leaf, every seed, every sprout;
Each plant in the vegetable phylum.
I like to consume
them right here in my room
at the lunatic mental asylum.
The fish in our aquarium
are looking rather ill,
and most of them are turning
kind of green around the gill.
I might have fed them too much food,
forgot to clean their tank,
or maybe they’re allergic to
the toys and junk I sank.
Perhaps I broke the thermostat.
I could have cut their air.
What’s certain is they’re sickly
from my downright lack of care.
But even though they’re looking ill
I still have cause to gloat;
they’re obviously talented–
they’re learning how to float!
I went to the doctor
all covered in bumps.
He said “you’ve got chicken pox,
measles and mumps.”
He said “you’ve got whooping cough,
from green salmonella.
“You’ve got halitosis
You’ve also got athletes foot
“You’re covered with head lice,
mosquitoes and fleas.
You’ve even got pink-eye
and mad cow disease.
“What’s more you’ve got cooties,
a cold and the flu,
but don’t be upset;
I know just what to do.”
He told me “I promise
this won’t hurt a bit,”
then grabbed a syringe
like a barbeque spit.
He made me bend over
the seat of my chair
then plunged that big needle
in my you-know-where.
So now I’m all cured
of my cooties and fleas,
my whooping cough, measles
and mad cow disease.
He cured me of every last
sniffle and bump,
and now I’m all better
except for my rump.
My brother built a potent antigravity machine.
It runs on electricity and hi-test gasoline.
He sat in it and and turned it on and shot up to the ceiling.
Which took him by surprise and has him clamoring and squealing.
He’s yelling like a maniac and pounding his device.
He’s calling it some epithets I’m certain aren’t nice.
I guess he should have given just a little more attention
to all the knobs and switches that he put on his invention.
Without a switch to turn it off, he’s stuck up there, alas,
until the batteries are dead and he runs out of gas.
If a person has four babies
you would call them all quadruplets.
If a kangaroo does likewise
should you call them kangaruplets?
And there’s something else I wonder,
that could use illuminating,
When a kangaroo is thinking
is it kangaruminating?
If you baked a kangaroo a pie
and shaped it like a boomerang
would it be best with whipping cream
or maybe kangaroo meringue?
I’ve got so many questions,
I just don’t know what to do.
I guess perhaps I’ll have to go
and ask a kangaroo.