” You have to run fast to catch the Moon!”
My older brother said as he raced me
It was blood-red, beautiful, and setting soon
He laughed when I fell and hurt my knee

” This time, I want you to really, really try!”
” You have to run fast if you want to catch the Moon.”
I ran, and as i reached for my prize in the sky
Across the moon’s face flew the shadow of a loon.

My brother passed away far too soon
You could say he jumped too high
“You have to run fast to catch the moon.”
He said before his very last try.

“Don’t follow that path.” my mother cried.
“Losing both sons will be my ruin.”.
Not try, Mother? I would much rather die!
You have to run fast to catch the Moon.
(c) Greg Cobb 2018



Which drinking game, played during The Donald’s upcoming State of The Union speech, would be the most likely to lead to hospitalization? Drinking a…
1) …, shot of tequila every time the president mentions the border wall, mexican immigrants, and/or NAFTA
2…a beer every time he mentions or references himself
3…a glass of wine every time he blames the democrats for something
4…a glass of whisky each time he invokes the military or…
5… describes anything or anybody as Failing, Failure, Loser, or Liar or….
6…dont drink, and listen to the speech without commenting.


I came, I saw, I went to lunch.
There, but for an ill-advised short of Amazon’s stock in 2001, go I.
He who laughs last is just pretending to get the joke.
Warning, Off-topic thought….Monopoly Money- Play Dough
In vino veritas, so use breath mints before talkng to the boss.
The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, unless you’re stabbing him in the back.
Look, before you leap, let me hold your wallet and keys


1)No predator will attack while its prey is using the bathroom. Therefore if a Mama bear feels threatened by your presence and acts aggressively, squat and pretend to read until help arrives.
2) If you are lost in a forest in South America, the moss is on the south side of the trees, and you’ve been walking in the wrong direction for two days, moron!
3)Ladies wearing shorts, daisy dukes, or other clothing that leaves their bare legs unprotected, should have lotion applied frequently to their unprotected skin.What kind of lotion? Doesnt matter to me.
4)If you walk up on an untended moonshine still, turn around and beat it! If that pot field you stumbled upon is cartel-run, however, then you probably arent reading this.


“okay let me see if I got this straight,” the policeman says to me. “A guy said. I wanna show you something, follow me.”, and you walked into the alley behind him right? And then another guy, who was hiding in the shadows, hit you on the head and they took your wallet and ran.” Officer Dipena, looked at me, and shook his head. “Well now you know that’s a con to shun, right?”
“I don’t know officer”, I said. “I think it might just be a bruise.”


I was surprised when the two people in suits and ties told me they had undergone surgery that changed them into men. They also complained that the doctor was a real creep.
” Gave you the willies, did he?”  I said sympathetically
“Oh, no, we had to pay for them!” One replied.



Miles Davis broke through barriers like a terrorist,
Staccato gunbursts aimed at targets the audience couldn’t see.
Explosive notes toppling musical Jericho’s,
Scaring the shit out of guys pretending to get it
Guys like me
Raised on melody and meatloaf, three minutes with cheese
Baloney on white bread, that was either my lunch, or me.
But Miles got it, he rode that sound like a gaucho,
Picking runs out of the herd, taking them down,
Burning that Davis brand flesh deep, one after frenetic other
That was Miles, racing and chasing, outpacing his brothers
In the pursuit of the new, scoring the dragon of Now, that never satisfied him
And came too fast for us.
Miles is gone
Right, stop the presses
His music lives on ({yawn}}
What can I say? I’m no Miles of the keypad,
Joining words and genres that never met before, making them friends
New combinations of words and notes get harder to find every day
Many no longer try, if music was money, they’re just getting by
Miles only stopped when he died
He didn’t run out of ideas, he only ran out of time


A Flower At The Terminal
He started down the steps, head down,
Don’t bump your head, my tall man
Walk down those steps to me
Who you didn’t expect to see
Until later
When the taxi brought you home
But I couldn’t wait, and I thought you were alone
And longing for me, as I have for you
But who is this, whose hand you hold
As she exits the plane behind you?
Who’s this who laughs with you as you descend the stairs,
And reaches up and musses your hair?
People around me, happy and hugging
Around me lovers reunite with unblemished delight
Together again, smiling, I hate them all
I should not have surprised him, I should have called
He doesn’t see me, his eyes are on her
They kiss goodbye, he gives her a flower
A flower, like the one I hold, to give to my man
Our little thing, a flower on parting, and one for the return
Our little thing no more
He walks, smiling, towards the taxis
I walk, alone, to get the car
–gregory cobb


You can see some houses have a soul,
Their shadows mock forgotten goals.
Dreams and dirt ground into floors,
stains and sorrow blemish doors.

In some houses you can hear the soul,
In hushed tones the tales are told
by old bones’ morning groans and creaks,
Strong winds met with hisses, and shrieks.

Can one smell a dwelling’s soul?
The garage is pine and motor oil,
The kitchen, bread and heat.
The child’s room smells stale,
though Mom, she keeps it neat.

Can touch uncover a dwelling’s soul?
What stories might this attic hold?
A crib, and a lock of fine, dark hair
in Baby’s Book, blank pages to spare.

The asking price seems pretty fair.



That was night that I got lost somewhere in whiskey heaven,
I ragged your candy ass when you quit drinking at eleven
You saw me stumble when we finally left the bar
So, see? It’s safer for me behind the wheel of a car
Are you coming or not? No more lectures, please.
And now a man is dead because nobody would take my keys

You’re the life of the party, the man of the hour
You’ve fine-tuned the social uses of hard liquor’s power.
I’m lucky to be your friend, and I sure don’t want to end
The party. So give that bottle one more squeeze,
And toast the man who died because I didn’t take your keys

I rode free as a bird, left my working days behind me
I loved my friends, my family, but the road is where you’d find me
Thirty years of fighting fires, waiting for this day
Retired, unhired, astride my Harley, was where I planned to stay
Just pondering life, enjoying new roads and the breeze
It ended when I met you, because no one took your keys.

I bought a bike this morning, Dad, so I could be like you
See what I wore today, now I’m a fireman, too
Your grandson is sick today, or I’d have brought him here
To the only place where the boy ever sheds a tear
He wants so bad to tell you that he knows his ABCs
And he will sing them to your headstone, because nobody took those keys



Met her by the fountain, after her math class,
Her eyes told me she wanted me to grab her ass

I let no one see me, or get a good look
For the only periods she’d experienced
Were the ones in her textbooks
You’ve got some short eyes, Roy Moore,
Adult women ain’t your style
Hands off our daughters, Roy Moore
You Bible-quoting pedophile,
You had to ask her Mom’s permission,
To take her on a date
That’s pretty weird behavior,
Even for your state
Hang up your hat, Judge Roy Moore
Farewell to your Senate hopes
Though some will still vote for you
The rest of us aren’t dopes
You say you know the Bible better,
Studied it all your life
You say its okay to covet her
As long as she’s nobody’s wife!
Don’t be a bigger sap Judge Roy Moore
Than you already are
The GOP is gathering the feathers,
The Dems are heating up the tar!

(Thanks and apologies are due to the Kingston Trio)