POEM: The Impulse to Self-Destruct

energized by french fries 
Oedipal knife to the eyes
when all know the truth,
he still lies

takes without asking
burns while sun-basking
fidgets reveal  
attempted masking

always plays the ponies
rules with wicked cronies --
but, like him, 
they're all phonies

passes on a Big Mac
just to shoot some bad smack
opts to be skinny 
for his heart attack

POEM: No Offense, Mr. Mosquito

Source: Wikipedia (Public Domain)

Hey there, Mr. Mosquito,
‘fraid to say, you’ve gotta go.
Sure, Black Death is on the flea,
but you’ve bought us fevers: Yellow, Nile, and Dengue.

And that’s just to name a few.
You’ve killed more folks than anything in the zoo.
There’s Malaria, Zika, and Encephalitis
that make you feel you’ve crossed a bus crash with arthritis.

I’ve never been to Rift Valley or the West Nile;
yet I fear their fevers but not their crocodiles.
Because, like Amazon, you deliver
a thousand miles from the river.

So, I guess I’ll go and get my shots,
and if our paths cross — expect some swats.
Cause when it comes to blood-sucking creatures,
I’d rather have leaches in my breeches.