ATTENTION IPAD USERS!
Apple doesn't like listing me as "Will Shakespeare (poetry blogger)"
to differentiate me from the other guy, although everybody else does.
They took my first book but now won't take new ones. (Go figure.)
Since Smashwords distributes my books to Apple anyway,
just go to my Smashwords author page and download EPUBs from there.
Smashwords provides samples of my books also.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Sugar Rush Again

A song for Halloween—a parody of
Willie Nelson’s On The Road Again.
[v] means verse, [br] means bridge… and yes,
“desperate” is only 2 syllables in this song.

[v] Sugar rush again,
They’re desperate to feel that sugar rush again.
The life they love is trick-or-treating with their friends
And they’re desperate for that sugar rush again.

[v] Sugar rush again,
The little monsters flash those hungry grins
To let the neighbors know they’re here to rake it in
‘Cause it’s Halloween and they need that rush again.

[br] Sugar rush again
Like a horde of locusts swarming down the highway;
Greedy denizens
Of a rush-inducing sugar-laden buffet
Eaten all day…

[v] Sugar rush again
They’re desperate to feel that sugar rush again.
The life they love is trick-or-treating with their friends
And they’re desperate for that sugar rush again.

[repeat bridge and last verse]
Yeah, they’re desperate for that sugar rush again.

Monday, October 28, 2013

This Little Other White Meat

Some of the little piggy made bacon;
Some of the little piggy made ham.
Some of the little piggy made sausage;
Some of the little piggy made Spam.
And some of the little piggy got processed and packaged ad nauseam.

Friday, October 25, 2013

I’ve Never Heard a Monshter Lishp

Another attempt at an Ogden Nash-type poem.
In the 3rd line, “menashe” means “menace.”
A lishp is shometimesh hard to undershtand.

I’ve never heard a monshter lishp;
Their shnarlsh are alwaysh loud and crishp
And, when they bite, they’re quite a menashe.
I guessh they never shcare the dentisht.

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Ninja Ballet

While Evil Warlord sleeps like dreamless stone
Behind his wall of palace guards, secure,
The shadows that he fears invade his home;
Of his disease they seek to be the cure.

Around his wall, behind his wall, and through,
The shadows swiftly make their way. With chilling
Resoluteness they do what they must do;
With cold precision, thus begins the killing.

Katanas flash, the dance of death begun
As figures clad in darkness pirouette
With superhuman strength above as-yet
Unknowing victims. Triumph almost comes…

When wires twist; ninjas drop like rocks and then
Director hollers, “CUT! We try again!”

Monday, October 21, 2013

Zombie Apocalypse #41

The hesitant sun peers over the city skyline to watch them rise from the dead.
They cringe. They prefer the shadows.
They lurch awkwardly down dark hallways,
     bumping along one wall,
     unseeing, unfeeling,
     unaware of their surroundings.
Driven purely by long-forgotten instincts,
They simulate attempts at personal hygiene and sartorial style before descending upon the city en masse.
The horror spreads! Terrified fast food workers duck behind counters… but it’s too late.
Zombie hordes overwhelm them, droning their dreaded one-word desire:
     “Coffeeeeeeee…”

Friday, October 18, 2013

Redshirts

According to Wikipedia, a redshirt is
"a stock character in fiction who dies
soon after being introduced. The term originates
with fans of the Star Trek television series (1966–69),
from the red shirts worn by Starfleet security personnel
who frequently die during episodes."
Perhaps most of us relate to them…

One moment of glory,
That’s all that they get—
A spot in one story.
These hapless cadets
Beam down to the planet
With captain and crew;
We take it for granted
They’ll wind up as goo.
Now legends of Star Trek,
They’ve gone from dead ends
With too-tiny paychecks
To famed might-have-beens.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Drawing Dead

“Drawing dead” means you can’t win,
no matter what cards the dealer gives you.
One Wild West legend died playing poker—
he was shot in the back of the head.
Since then, two pairs—aces and eights—
are known as “the dead man’s hand.”

Wild Bill Hickok thought
His aces and eights were good…
But a bullet won

Monday, October 14, 2013

Cloudburst

This cloud is the computer kind—you know,
a way to store information online.

The digital sky went on forever…
Or so to men it seemed.
Little by little, the fluffy white clouds
Filled up its placid scene.

Horizons darkened as grayscale fronts
Turned bitmapped black and white.
Soon thunderous sound shook the file-filled sky
And streamed from the growing night.

Maybe a hacker did digital seeding;
Maybe the sunspots came.
Whatever the reason, as lightning flashed,
Down came the digital rain.

As videos splattered computer screens
Unbidden by the mouse,
They ran like Salvador Dali’s thoughts
And puddled around the house.

Photos and emails and spreadsheets too
Became a swirly mess.
Did that say a porn star made Junior rich?
Receivers could only guess.

The downpour subsided, the landscape soaked
With info none could risk.
But some nameless nerd saved the day again—
Thank God for his backup disc!

Friday, October 11, 2013

A Hole in Juan

A jealous husband shot Juan in his bed
(The husband’s bed, that is) and with his wife
(The husband’s wife, that is, not Juan’s). He said
(That is, Juan said) that marriages are rife
With complications no sane man would want
When he could have a ball without the chain!
Juan made it sound so cool and nonchalant—
At least until that bullet hit his brain.

They doctored up his body for the wake.
A dozen women—young and snockered—came;
They swore and made rude gestures. “Hey, you snake!
You would have lived much longer with ‘a chain.’”
And just for fun, they bolted all the doors,
Pulled out some guns and shot him in the drawers.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Winchester Cathedral

He rides slowly into town and dismounts
In front of Our Blessed Savior’s Rest Mission.
He glances around town and quickly counts
Six gunslingers. Thank God for ammunition!

He slides his rifle from its saddle holster
And loads bullets into its magazine,
Then chambers one with the lever. It bolsters
His courage when the “chak” is quick and clean.

Before the firefight starts, the friar comes out
Carrying a big box. “Greetings, my son,”
He murmurs. “Let me help. Many devout
Men have died at their hands. God bless our guns.”

The box drops. Two Colts and one rifle judge
The quick and the dead. The street runs with blood.

Monday, October 7, 2013

Snifficant Other

I was walking the dog the other day and…

Two canines, out with masters walking,
Pause to chat a while.
“Well, howdy do!” the first one says
While sniffing some place vile.
“I’m fine… and you?” the second says
As he responds in kind.
“Hmmm… have we maybe met before?
Some other place and time?”

“I seriously doubt it, friend,”
The first says with a snort.
“I’m pretty sure I’d know your scent
If we had sniffed before.
It’s possible you’ve met the guys
I often hang around;
They frequently get lost, and so
I mark the silly clowns.”

“Oh no, I’m sure,” the second says,
“I know this scent quite well.
I’m certain that we’ve met before;
I just can’t place the tail.”
The first insists, “Forget it, friend;
Don’t let it drive you nuts.
You’ve just confused my nether parts
With someone else’s butt.”

“I know you now!” the second snarls,
His growl at fever pitch.
“I smelled you at my pad last night.
You’re sleeping with my bitch!”

“Perhaps I am,” the first dog says;
He doesn’t seem upset.
“It’s not my fault you’re such a dog!
You treat her like a pet.
If you were more concerned with her
Than running with the pack,
Perhaps she’d sniff your own behind,
Not sniff behind your back.”

And then the first dog lifts his leg;
He marks the second’s tail.
I guess tonight that girl will know
Which one’s her alpha male!

Friday, October 4, 2013

The Beast from One Fathom

A fathom is roughly six feet.

When little Georgie jumped into the pond,
His young imagination never dreamed
What creatures might await him—things not fond
Of little boys who kick and splash and scream.
His cannonball disturbed the murky depths;
He had to close his eyes and couldn’t see
What things he agitated when he leapt…
And they attacked with great ferocity!

Amid the swirling waters, leafy weeds
Entwined his legs and grabbed his thrashing knees
While tiny fish, attracted by the motion,
Nipped leaves and skin alike with blind devotion.
Young Georgie shrieked in terror as he fled!
He’s sworn off swimming; now he hikes instead.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Jedi Mime Trick

When spaceships land at Tatooine en route
To parts unknown, the Empire, fearing trouble,
Has ordered its storm troopers to take out
Any spy who might put up a struggle.

Today, one hooded figure draws their eyes.
The troopers freeze as he raises his hand
And more figures appear—all the same size,
Stepping from the rabble when he commands.

As the hoods drop and painted faces stare
Back at the troopers, blackened lips all smiles,
The troopers panic. The live masks they wear
Terrify them! The troopers run for miles.

The Jedi sniggers. “Weak you are, Sith slime,
And strong I am in the ways of street mimes.”