Of
Species & Feces
A lizard bigger than an SUV
Chows down on all the flora it can chew,
Then vents a Nile, an Amazon, of pee
And voids an Everest of #2.
In time, most of the turd disintegrates,
Like flesh, grass, all that's biological.
But from some fragments, slow nature creates
Small treasures paleontological —
Dung fossils, also known as coprolites,
Which scientists dig for with patient zeal
And scrutinize in hopes of fresh insights
Into the lizard's prehistoric meal.
These scholars then wash up, go home to eat,
Step into a small room, and take a seat.
Quintagenarian
(for PK)
When your age reaches half a century,
You find yourself regaled by lots of folks
Who sublimate fears of mortality
By roasting you with shopworn geezer jokes.
The punch lines often feature pastures, hills
(Ones you’ve been put out to or are over),
Or your need nowadays for small blue pills
To drive her wild as the young you drove her.
But friends who’ve hit the big five-oh before you
Have too much wisdom, dignity, and class
For stale gags that would only rile or bore you.
Instead, we raise an empathetic glass,
Proposing: Your new milestone’s a gold one.
You’ve been a rare young fool; be a grand old one.
How Many Poets Does it Take To Screw in a Lightbulb?
Eschew the headlong thrust and choose the screw,
That subtle swerve that Archimedes knew.
Let there be light! Let there be deft rotation
And delicately twisted penetration!
Copyright © 2002 Chris O'Carroll