FUN STUFF

FUN STUFF

Where has all the fun stuff gone,
Like pink flamingos on the lawn?
Drive-in movies and making out,
And little teapots short and stout.

Where are all the revelries,
Where is all the wonder?
They’ve gone the way of my failing health,
Blithely torn asunder.
They groan beneath my sagging wealth,
A pocketbook struck by thunder.
And the crack of closeup lightning,
Reveals each silly blunder.

Where has all the fun stuff flown,
Into the package of wreckage strewn,
The mile high club that I didn’t join then,
I certainly can’t take up now.
Though a midair romp is no big sin,
Just in and out is my solemn vow.
I need my restrooms for voiding and rest
And not to satisfy lovers’ requests.

Where is all the happy verse,
The readers want to know.
Why such a wuss and a gloomy guss,
We came here expecting a vaudeville show!
You’ll have to bring glasses versed in 3D,
To see the hapless side of me.
The stumbling here and everywhere,
The tumbling on the flight of stairs
The web cam set on Bruce I Am,
Is what you’ll long to see.
And I’ll do a giddy happy dance,
An honorary Black Eyed Pea.

Where alas is my ship of fools,
My happy courtyard jester?
He lies in pain, in the foyer slain,
His wounds they bleed and fester.

I can barely crack an egg,
Yet you long for me to crack a smile?
The fun stuff and the folly is going out of style.
And with the fun stuff goes the laughter,
Though I still crack jokes at my own expense,
But like smoke it rises to the rafters,
And mixes with the heady incense.

Where is the fun stuff when you need it,
Like the joys of medicinal hashish weed,
My attitude could sure improve,
And gradually get back up to speed.

Surely a toke or two of the demon pot,
Could calm the pain of what I’ve got.
But alas I am like Auntie Em,
I mustn’t go against the law,
For that would make me one of them,
The stoners and the potheads all.

Where has all the fun stuff gone,
The chinchilla and the pet rock?
I am quite the sour puss,
As I pause to take my stock.
But I still have my sardonic wit
That I bring out on demand.
So jump ye reader to your feet,
And give me quite the hand.

Where has all the fun stuff gone,
The pink flamingos on the lawn?
The Geico gecko and the pig that goes wee?
You don’t even have to ask
Just take a look behind the mask,
In the corner by the calamity,
Snorting loudly, chuckling merrily,
It shouldn't be that hard to see,
The fun stuff’s still inside of me.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED