Pillowy Love

Waking up pillow-less,
I crane my neck to check,
Sure enough, he’s commandeered
my entire pillow.
Sleeping with nary a care in the world,
Dreaming of Whiskas Temptations®.

Not withstanding the crick in my neck,
My heart wells up with love.
For my perennial pillow-hogger.

I’ve never like his type.
I’ve always thought
His kind was too aloof.

But someway, somehow,
He’s insinuated himself
Into my hard cynical heart.

Whenever I'm feeling down,
He uncannily knows.
He'll snuggle real close,
Melting into me like
warm comforting butter.

As I hammer away
At my assignments, or watch
A film for class, We sit together,
A mere feather’s breath apart.



Past bedtime, he saunters downstairs.
Blocking the computer screen,
He contemplates me in bemusement
As I bang away on the keyboards.

Day's done, we hit the sack together.
He snares a cat’s share of the pillow.
His warm body rumbles merrily along,
And his stout whiskers tickles my face;
A furry kiss, a pillowy texture of love.

The Gospel of St. Luke The Cat

(A Bible for Cats and their human slaves)


The Ten Commandments

All Cats art thy Lord,
thou should Worship no other.
thou shall Make only Cats Idols.
thou shall Revere and Honor thy Cats.
human slaves, Submit and Obey.

Thou shall rest all 7 days of the week.
Thou shall be perennial Cat burglars.
Thou shall blame thy neighbor.
Thou shall also covet thy neighbor’s fish.
Thou shall be promiscuous and adulterous.
Thou shall be murderous and vicious.
Cats, your Lord commands you so.

The Seven Sins

Thou shall lust.
Thou shall eat till thou vomit.
Thou shall be greedy in all things.
Thou shall sleep 20 hours a day.
Thou shall rain down thy wrath.
On any that doth disturb thy sleep.
Thou shall envy thy neighbor’s fish.
Thou shall be proud and vain.
These are sins if thou doth not commit them.

The Seven Virtues

Thou shall be wonton, not chaste.
Thou shall not temper one’s greed.
Thou shall be selfish, not charitable.
Thou shall be lazy, not diligent.
Thou shall be impatient and violent.
Thou shall be evil and jealous, not kind.
Thou shall suffer hubris, not humble pie.
These are virtues if thou follow them.

The Devil's Brother

Oh Stanley
He’s a Serval Domestic Medley
He’s an Evil Savannah Cat
When You See Him You Go Scat

He’s Oscar’s Brother
With Chuck for a Father
Luke His Surrogate Brother
And Fonda for a Mother

He is the Epitome of Evil
That’s Definitely No Fake Call
His Brother is the Devil
After All

His Paws Full of Claws
He Leaves Your Face With Scratchy Flaws
With Terrifying Toenails He Draws Blood
Oh My God He Just Caused Noah’s Flood

Biting He Unleashes His Razor Sharp Teeth
They are Most Definitely Not A Myth
The Ground Shakes When He Pounces
For He Weighs A Great Many Ounces

Where He Leaps He Brings Gloom
When He Lands He Goes Boom
As He Stares At You From Across The Room
You Know You’re Awaiting Your Doom

When Luke Sees Him he Trembles and Cowers
For Brimming with Evil are His Diabolical Glowers
He Mutilates Chuck’s Beautiful Flowers
For Dark and Evil Are His Malicious Powers

He is Definitely Not As Innocent As He Looks
He Only Does that to Get into Chuck’s Good Books
Hear Not His Plantive Yowl
For When He Attacks With Excruciating Pain You’ll Surely Howl

Evil Emanates from Every Pore in His Body
He is The Vilest Villain from Every Fairy Tale Story
Beware Stanley for He is the Devil’s Brother
Even Satan Sees Him and Falter

A Love Poem Riddled with Clichés

What is love?

Love is a blushing dove.
Love warms you like a glove.
Love is found in a hidden grove.
Love is more than a treasure trove.

Love is the water that feeds a cove.
Love is the road that gypsies rove.
Love is the scarf your mother wove.
Love is how hard your father strove.



Love smells like cinnamon and clove.
Love feels cozy like a hot stove.
Love is the light from above.
Love shines on a small alcove.

Love is in everything, by Jove!

Labor Day Picnic*

This Labor Day at Coyote Point Park,
We had a lot of fun under the sun.
On grass fields flaked with eucalyptus bark,
It was perfect, like burger in a bun

Topped with sliced pickles, mustard and ketchup.
Tandoori chicken with basmati rice.
Sweet Jell-O shot to be slurped in a gulp,
Chilled Corona flavored with lemon slice.

Greek dolma lovingly wrapped in grape leaf,
Corn on the cob that's slathered with butter.
Thick, succulent, and well-seasoned grilled beef,
Pakora fried in gram flour batter.

This is the stuff that picnics are made of,
A great awesome way to spend your day off.

*While the poem, written in traditional sonnet form with iambic pentameter, seems to be obsessed with food, what I actually hope it does brings across is that the picnic is really about people, how friends of diverse cultural backgrounds came together to enjoy a traditional American Labor Day activity, as seen in the poem where verses about classic American barbeque foods are juxtaposed with that of other cuisines.