Identity Crisis

It has almost come time
For notavogon to go home
Is my home a planet
Where I can phone home?

Is like to think that I
A girl not a Vogon
Wouldn’t be so much an alien
Even if she left bygone

Surely I’m not a Vogon
It’s what I tell my friends
But am I super officious
Am I mean? It depends

I think that I pretend
To have some of these traits
A Vogon never lies
They can’t, they have mandates

For those of you who know
That Vogons aren’t me
I’d rather have you look
And make sure I’m not cranky


One day a tomato
Rolled off its happy vine
Decided to see the world
And said, ‘I’ll make it mine’

Tomato wasn’t red
Or orange in the least
The unripe green tomato
Wasn’t heading for a feast

Luckily tomato
Was unappealing as he looked
He was off to see the world
Not preparing to be cooked

My green tomato friend
He met me in the field
I took one look at tomato
And said, hey man, you’re weird

Snoring Duet

A sleepy girl named Fred
Wanted to stay in her bed
She closed all her curtains
Wrapped up as it pertains
Oh Fred, don’t you know that instead

There once was a cat that I knew
It wanted to stay in bed too
You’re better off snuggling
With a cat who wants cuddling
Than hoping for the best, without a view

So Fred and the cat had now met
Fred loved the cat and would pet
While sleeping away
They just wanted to stay
Fred and the cat had a snoring duet

Santa’s Judgement

I have a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree
Given by my mom to me

Today I took it out to look
And hang the ornament by it’s hook

Unfortunately the tree is worse
Than Charlie Brown’s by the divorce

Of some tiny strands with little sprigs
Of fake green needles and measly sprigs

My poor Charlie Brown tree has gained
Some character at least, being sprained

Taped together, wires and all
Will it be long before Santa makes a call?

I hope my tree does not offend
Or else coal will fall out, when my stocking I upend


I jumped up to the moon
I didn’t mean to stay
But a return journey
Will take longer than a day

The moon is really nice
I rather wouldn’t leave
When you heavy lift on the moon
You never need to heave

Are denizens of the moon
Considered earthlings too?
If the moon belongs to earth
Could they be a colony true?

Or, fiercely independent
The moon people arise
Have the seceded the planet
Are they planning a warlike surprise?

You can only truly know
If you’ve visited the moon
So maybe take a visit
To the land that they have hewn

Murder Most Wakeful

Somebody murdered
My circadian rhythm
They hid its body

Came in dead of night
With an instrument of death
To do the dark deed

They won’t get away
But I won’t be the one to
Find their hidey hole

Unless I get some
More sleep. So I guess I will
Listen to the snow

Until some soul finds
My circadian rhythm
And gives it back life

Red in the Face

I’m sorry I was cross
I didn’t mean to yell in case
I became red in the face

Oh wait, now I remember
It wasn’t me who yelled
Or anyone who even spelled

So why am I red in the face?
Am I embarrassed or excited
Or have I been indicted?

No, I’m pretty sure none of those
So I’ll have to be a detective
And find out if my face is defective

I bet its a new allergy
Something that just decided
To come unannounced and uninvited