Who To Vote For

Why not combine for all the best
And leave behind the chaff,
The scandal-vestured scary chick
With master of the gaff?

Which Way To Vote?

He’s a walking powder keg,
And says just what he thinks.
She’s a seasoned politician,
Schooled in all that stinks.

Picky

You say I have an attitude?
Let’s have a little pause.
You take a lot of latitude,
Both critic and the cause.

Used Recepticle

I thought of calling you a ‘douche’ but I don’t think I oughtta,
For that would be an insult to a noble use of water.

Far more apt comparison, of which I am less skeptical:
Empty and of no more use, you’re like the spent receptacle.

Night Trolls

The trolls are always listening;
They whisper when I sleep.
They linger in the garden
And among the foliage creep.

Flat Sales

The quarter’s looking solid,
The pipeline’s nice and fat;
We’re penetrating places where competitors have sat.

The only thing that bothers me,
And you’ll see where I’m at,
The ladies sales team’s front projections come in way too flat.

Free Verse

I had a box of random words but dropped them on the tile,
And when I swept them up again I cast them in a pile.
I didn’t try to sort them out or even make a rhyme;
I labeled the whole pile “free verse” and gave it no more time.

The Trolls

They hide out in the parking lot in plateless brand-new cars
And listen to my merest whispers–have you got full bars?
They follow me in traffic like some lovesick brontosaur
And whisper unsweet nothings–that you talking, commissar?