Why common water can cure Saturday Night Fever and endless other ills

The water in your kitchen tap
has started getting a bad rap.
It seems there’s more than H2O
that dances down your drain.

But lest you let it get your goat,
be grateful that what clears your throat
contains a trace of substances
you don’t pay extra for.

Our household water has the means
to fuel an aging couple’s dreams.
A sip before they crawl in bed
might cause them both to smile.

And Starbucks stock may start to fall.
The water cooler down the hall
has caffeine in those big clear jugs.
They more than quench your thirst.

The common water that we drink
does way more stuff than you might think.
It staves off seizures, eases pain
and stabilizes moods.

The critics dance around the facts,
but I’m inclined to just relax
and hoist a pint of H2O
and let it do its thing.

The black and white truth about a black candidate

B’lack Obama’s White House dreams
are fueled by grits and collard greens.
He knows that Aframericans
are hungry for a win.

While race is not the only deal,
for millions it’s a happy meal.
A chance to prove that Martin’s dream
has finally come true.

We’re watching history being made.
And while some racists are afraid,
there is no cause to fear B O
because his skin is black.

My fear is based in what he’s done.
He’s not experienced for one.
And secondly, his Iraq view
is blurred and shortsighted.

I like Obama as a man.
I’m envious of his great tan.
But he’s too liberal for my blood
and left on Right to Life.

Can a three-hour penance save his soul?

What once was sacred is suspect.
The proof is in the cup.
What seemed a fact is only froth.
The faithful ask “What’s up?”

St. Arbucks had a fall from grace.
His reputation’s stained.
There’s been a drop in daily mass
in chapels for him named.

St. Arbucks’ brew, once highly praised
as nectar of the gods,
is not the beverage it once was.
His holy cup is flawed.

And so a penance was prescribed
lest there be Hell to pay.
His acolytes went back to school,
while Arbucks knelt to pray.

Me thinks there is a lesson here
for more than fallen saints.
When we grow lax in what’s espressed,
we’re seen for what we ain’t.

Confessions of a News Junkie

I AM a news junkie. I must have my fix.
I love 60 Minutes and all those loud ticks.

I catch the Today Show as each day begins
and then I switch over to watch CNN.

Then in my Tribeca while driving to work,
I must hear Paul Harvey or I go berserk.

Alerts on my laptop prompt late breaking news.
I have to click on them. We addicts must use.

I spend coffee breaks with the front page and more.
And while at the urinal I scan b-ball scores.

It’s All Things Considered that’s on en route home.
That NPR format’s like gnawing a bone.

When dinner is over I watch Larry King
and Anderson what’s-his-name’s 360 thing.

It’s bad. It’s outlandish. It’s out of control.
I pig-out on headlines but never get full.