Author: the bad poet

Dried paint is sexy

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Apologies to Kenny Chesney for using his tune for “She thinks my tractors sexy”

She thinks dried paint is sexy
On my face and arms
No projects are ever finished
Anywhere on this farm.

I can’t believe she tolerates the undone mess
She has no place to hang a single shirt or dress
She’s even kind of crazy ‘bout this poor dirt farm
Cause she can raise her chickens in the old tin barn
I open up a bucketful of indoor paint
I brush it on until my arms just cain’t
There’s more to do than one man can ever finish
The repair list doesn’t ever seem to diminish

Thank gawd she thinks dried paint is sexy
On my face and arms
I stumble thru the clutter
Piled up in both the barns

You’d never know that we were once city sophisticates
When you see that we have to go thru two cattle gates
The cows get in anyway and eat our plants
And now it looks like we can’t grow anything but ants
I’m sure I’ll get it organized one day soon
And when she sees it she will probably swoon.
I wish I shared her rosy view of the country life
I’d never work this hard for anyone but my wife

But she thinks dried paint is sexy
And the work to her is fun
She’s optimistic that
One day we will be done.

Imagine Baby Boomers

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Imagine Baby Boomers

Imagine there’s no wrinkles
It’s easier today
No moles or age spots
And parts of us will never decay
Replace all our worn body joints
Since Medicare will pay

Imagine all the people
Living for the day
When we can stop the exercise
Just a pill makes fat go away.
Imagine Richard Simmons
With nothing to say?.

You may say I’m a Boomer
The group that wanted it all
But when we got on fixed incomes
The interest rates did fall

Imagine there’s no need for walkers
or reading glasses at all
Imagine that we all can get up
If ever we should fall
Just spend our time speed walking
In the local mall.

Imagine no possessions
After we move into the Over 50 commune
With other old folks just like us
A brotherhood of doom
Imagine all the people
Crammed into one big bingo room….

Yes, you’re right, I am a Boomer
You may say I’m in denial
But I am not really dreaming
Perhaps just a little bit senile

Beer Run Blues

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Beer Run Blues
I hear that beer a callin’, It’s callin’ out my name.
My thirst is nearly about to drive me totally insane.
I’m down at ICR to stay for the weekend long
But I did not bring enough beer with me, which was just plain wrong.

When I was a new owner my neighbor said, “now listen, son,
You’ll really love it out here, you’ll really have some fun
But bring all that you need to eat and drink when you come to play.
Its hot out here and you’ll need beverages if you’re gonna stay”.

My neighbor also told me, “please mind the speed limit sign.
Driving too fast out here is a crime that is not benign.
It’s 20 miles per hour, so please watch your driving speed.
The wildlife and other owners will thank you, guaranteed”.

Well, Sunday morning got here and I was out of beer.
I knew the town of Rock Springs was the closest place to here.
So I drove directly to the Lowes Family Grocery mart.
I went inside, glanced around, and grabbed a handy cart.

I knew just what I wanted, I made a beeline to the back.
That’s where the beer cooler was, so I grabbed a multi-pak.
I loaded up and headed back to find the friendly cashier.
who sadly told me she could not sell me any beer.

So, I’m leaving empty handed as the sun begins to shine.
I cannot linger here now; I just don’t have the time.
As I leave I pass by Country Boys, and then drive on past Grooms.
Cause its Sunday and they can’t sell beer until the clock strikes noon.


			

	


			
				


	

							
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Bad Poet’s Society introduction:


I have been writing travel stories for a few years now on my blog:  your intrepid traveler.blogspot.com.   Traveling for business kept me busy, and I visited over 30 countries during a span of just a few years.  But due to security reasons and my laziness, I have foregone most travel.  I still work, but don’t go overseas unless I have to.  So, my good travel stories have dried up.  But I still like to be creative, so I have launched this blog to show the world that there is a bad poet in each of us.  My bad poetry takes perfectly good songs and changes the words to fit my own brand of humor.   You can be the judge if this is bad poetry or not.  I feel certain you will share my opinion.  I welcome comments and your own bad poetry.  After all, I cannot be expected to fill the world’s need for bad poetry.  I am only one man.