Monthly Archives: July 2015

I’m Not Even Going To Apologize

Sometimes dogs are happy.

Sometimes dogs are sad.

You wanted a clever poem?

Well today, that’s just too bad.

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How To Make A Simple Meal For Company

This poem is a preview from my upcoming book, an as-of-yet untitled collection of 99 How-To Poems. Enjoy!

So you’re having friends or family
For a meal at your abode.
Last time you made a crumby meal,
And, alas, it kinda showed…

Here’s a foolproof strategy
To ensure your reputation
Remains intact. And luckily
It takes little preparation.

To understand one’s audience
Is a chef’s most vital feat.
You would not serve aged lettuce
Or cheese fresh from the teat.

Likewise, the understanding
That a dinner party guest
Mostly wants to be entertained
Will inform your menu best.

So, what food is entertaining
That is also easy to make?
How about a meal where a stripper
Comes jumping out of a cake?

Serve it with a side of green beans
That you got from a can
And your party will be talked about
Agan and agan and agan.

To make this meal, you need a phone
And, for each guest, a plate.
If you plan to use the internet,
Get your McAfee up to date.

Then search or call a while
‘Til you find a girl named “Candy,”
Because that would be ironic,
Which, at parties, comes in handy.

Then order a cake from Costco
To ensure she’ll fit inside.
Then all you’ve got is time to kill
And other time to bide.

And finally when your guests arrive
To partake of your feast
They’ll look around for dinner
But their eyes will find your beast.

By “your beast” I mean the cake,
Not Candy, by the way.
Some might scoff and call you names,
But trust me, that’s okay,

For when they see that cake explode
With the force of an under-clad dame
The word of the week in the neighborhood
Will surely be your name.

So go and throw your dinner bash
And have so much fun it’s a crime.
Rest easy, this plan is foolproof
And saves both time and thyme.

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Self-Inflicted Problems

Coffee and tea

With my good friend Cindy.

Coffee and cake

With my other friend Jake.

Coffee and porn

With my buddy Bjorn.

Coffee and grub

At the insomniac’s club.

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They Have Strong Legs in Mexico

I sang “dropkick me Jesus

“Through the goal posts of life.”

My Mexican gardener is very literal.

It’s caused us some strife.

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D-I-Why

For fourteen dollars and fifteen hours

I can buy some wood and plastic towers

And with the help of a hammer, saw,

Electric drill, and my guitaw

I can make a TV stand

That I created by my own hand.
For fifteen dollars and sixteen minutes

I can buy a stand already finished.

I’ll assemble it with an alan wrench,

Then maybe also build a bench.

But the pride of doing is better than haste.

Besides, can’t let those towers go to waste!

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In Defense of Rhyme

There are those who tell me

That a poem that rhymes

Is unnescessary.

There are those who say

A poem that rhymes

Is of the devil

Or the patriarchy

Or “kind of stringent, don’t you think?”

Their tellings and sayings

Spool around the cellar

Of an ivory tower

Whose black horses

And cakes which are a lie

No longer echo

In the halls of our great uncles.

Confusion is their currency.

Paragraphs

Are

Their

Playthings.

I do not understand this poem.

Neither do you.

I just wrote it to show ’em,

Figuratively, who’s who.

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World War Three

If we go to war with Russia,

Whether Putin’s fault or ours

It will be a lengthy battle

Between some major world powers.

But if we go to war with China,

Then China would be mad

Cause we’d send a bull to all their shops

And wreck ’em pretty bad.

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1/16 TSP of Nostalgia

I remember the days of yore

When if you made a call

You could not use the internet.

No you couldn’t. Not at all.
I remember the olden days

When a prune was a “dried plum,”

And when Superhero movies

Were as tacky as they’d come.
If you complain about the future,

These are the comforts you should seek.

Besides these three things, however,

Yeah… The future’s kinda bleak.

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This Is The Crap I Write At 11:20

The little box on my watch

That tells me the date

Is taunting me with

What might have been my fate,
For it says “23,”

But it’s halfway away

Towards the “24” sign

That means it’s the next day.
I think I’m in meltdown,

To have my mind be so blank

For two days in a week.

I have job security to thank.
And for those East of Cali,

Who missed today’s rhymes:

If I could I’d email you

A cage full of mimes.

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An American Traveler

There once was a van-living hoarder

Who crossed the Canadian border.

He lost his way,

So he asked a cop “eh?”

The cop figured all was in order.
And so the directionless dude

Asked locals who were eating food.

They said “bla bla bluh.”

The van-guy asked “huh,”

And found himself viciously booed.
And so the van-guy found his way

Back to Where-He-Was-From, USA.

There’s a moral somewhere,

But you probably don’t care,

And it’s probably better that way.

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