Monthly Archives: February 2015

Facebook Ads

I did a google search

For Men’s Wearhouse at the mall.

That was 16 months ago,

And it’s still here on my wall.

I looked to buy a negligee

Just as a friendly gift.

Now I get twelve ads a day

Through which I must sift.

I looked up local dry cleaners,

And now endure the taunt

Of “targeted ads” for dry cleaning

In Georgia and Vermont.

I searched my ex’s name as well

Out of curiosity.

Not only did I regret it then,

But now I literally can’t unsee.

And where the Chippendales ad

Came from, I can’t guess,

But now it is a daily part

Of my social network’s mess.

I cleared my cookies and my cache,

Reset my “ad I.D.”

I still get ads on my Facebook wall,

But at least they’re not for me.

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…or something

This poem: you might find

Reading it is kinda tough

Because it touches on

Things like vaguery and stuff.

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Optimists say the glass is half full;

Pessimists say it’s half empty.

As I poet, I must be an optimist

Because nothing rhymes with “empty.”

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Bee Minus

Living as a bumblebee

Is really very lame.

Your life is run by mind control

And every day’s the same.

Our homes are much too sticky

And attract too many bears.

Yellow and black are so last Spring

But no one ever cares.

It’s hard to have an argument

When your sole source of defense

Creates discomfort in your enemy

And kills you in recompense.

And so we drone and buzz and fly

And polenate a bagonia,

Humming “Fields of Gold” by Sting,

Hoping the queen does not disown ya.

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He Looks Just Like You

I’ve got a crippling fear of insects,

But that’s not much of an issue

Since I work inside a hospital

In the birthing ward.

From time to time, an ugly baby

Will burst forth into my view.

I’ll say “oh look, he’s cute as a bug,”

‘Cause it’s honest and I’m bored.


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Old Dreams

If I were a dinosaur
I’d be a stegosaurus.
I’d spend my time stargazing
And singing in a chorus.

And if predators mess with me,
With my tail, I’d resist,
‘Cause no one beats a stegosaurus
When steggy’s feeling pissed.

I’d eat some grass, then some more;
The destiny of an herbivore.
Then I’d be eaten when I’m old.
A fitting fate, so I was told.

And when I got lonely,
I’d go searching on Steg’s List
And remember my old Triceratops
And how it hurt when we kissed.

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I took a walk this morning.
It’s just something that I like.
Then I peed in the bushes
And the walk became a hike.

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