I Got a Gal in Kalamazoo! (Beware of the Buzz!)


I recently found my small stash of poems from my senior year creative writing class.  Until I took that class I had not written creatively in over ten years.  The class was a little of struggle, but the dam has burst.  I think a few of these were included previously, but whatever.

Here is one about a ex-Piston, Carlos Arroyo, who might actually be out of the NBA.  I follow it very closely and have no recollection of seeing his name in any boxscore.



A dribble into traffic ends with “Don’t bring that shit into my house.”  The next day he is traded to Orlando.

Here is one about Rasheed Wallace.  A man who I do love, but also get extremely annoyed with.  He is the friend who has doesn’t realize what he truly could be. Or perhaps he does and just chooses to not follow that path.  I was a fan of his in his college days, and will always be a fan.  But damn he can be frustrating!


Clang goes the free throw.  “The ball don’t LIE!”

If you can’t tell by now, these are all two sentence stories.


The vacuum cleaner was caught on something.  Danny shut it off, lifted it up, and discovered a black hole.

Last Man on Earth

The last man on earth was hungry, for it had been several days without a meal.  As he reached down to feel for something to eat he remembered he had already eaten his arms.

Last Words

As Laura looked into her mother’s eyes, she saw her love reciprocated.  With her last breath, her mother left her daughter with a hopeful message, “My darling, see you in Hell.”


George wished his lover could audibly express her pleasure.  Dick had to remind him that corpses don’t talk.

Good Morning

As my radio alarm came on, a voice alerted me that nuclear holocaust had started.  I hit the snooze and rolled over.

Here is a new one


She asked me to taste her finger, so I did.  It tasted like a finger.

Here is a piece about the corporation running our college food service.  It was far from the greatest.


I’d rather have a 40 of Evil Eyes poured in my eyes,
than eat your tuna surprise.
Your food tastes like stool
not even fit to be pig gruel
I’d rather swim in a vomit filled pool
Why did you fire Bill?
You capitalist fool
Was it because he wasn’t a mind slave
To majority rules?
Eat Sodexhoshit and die
Your food isn’t even good when high.
I’d rather burn in Hades
than try your assortment of gravies.
My ass blows out foul air smelling
Worse than the breath of a grizzly bear
Sometimes I think if I could harness it
I would be able to walk on air
Or at least make a quick buck
Selling it to SUV sluts
Waiting in line at the gas pump.
Then my ass would no longer be classified
A toxic waste dump.
So I search for a open john
To place my plump rump
Throwing down the toilet seat “Thump!”
Oh what a sound
Echoes around
When that Sodexhoshit
Comes out my bottom round
Running aground that
Circular porcelain mound.
I have just one thing to say: Don’t commit the crime if you can’t do tha time.

Here is a short, rough piece that I’m sure was written last minute.  I just like the last two lines.

Work Blues

Got those nine to five blues, til I got my hours cut
Now I got those part-time blues,
Watch doesn’t work, wedding ring fake gold
Shit, I can only afford to smoke half a pack a day.
I thought this was America, land of opportunity
All I got was a shitty wicker chair
and a nice head of hair


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