Monthly Archives: November 2017

Facebook “Conversations”

You know that feeling

When you have to sneeze but can’t

And your nose you already blew?

Imagine that feeling

For an hour or so.

That’s how it feels to be talking with you.

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Dream Jobs

When I was a baby

I went to a farm

And learned about the origins of milk.

I was curious and asked

What happens if you’re tasked

With squeezing udders of the masculine cow’s ilk.

And when farmers laughed

And the parents cringed

I knew I’d stumbled on something good

And I knew when I grew up

I would be an artificial inseminator

Whether or not I really ought or should.

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The Honest Politician’s Prayer

I am a tree without a trunk,

A neck without a spine,

A car without a chassis,

A roller coaster with no line.

I’m an eskimo in Florida,

Someone humble in LA.

You’ve probably never seen me

And it’ll probably stay that way.

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New Perspectives

I once went to a market

For groceries I would buy

When a most unpleasant sight

Fell upon my naive eye.

I can only picture

What occurred before I came

As if the homeless had played poker

And they all had lost the game,

For beside the sidewalk entrance

Underneath the neon sign

Were a hundred empty carts

Neatly tucked into a line.

Somewhere in the city

There are those who’ve lost there way

So I beg you, steal back their carts

For justice! (Please obey)

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Thank You! I’ll Be Here All Night

I’ve got another story

That I thought I’d share with you

And unlike most of my others

This one is completely true.

I’m stuck in traffic, driving

Down through Portland, OR.

At one time people thought “let’s go”

But apparently not anymore.

We’re driving behind a Tesla

With a vanity plate

That reads “UNSTPBL.”

Its driver I do hate.

I know most folks are decent

But my opinion’s going askew

Thanks to Mr. 100K a year

Who has 15 IQ.

I could probably go on longer,

And (we’ll see) perhaps I might.

I’ve got 400 miles ’til I get home

And that’s a lot of night.

I’m glad I don’t live in LA,

New York, or Portland too,

But if you’ve got a book I can sign

Come to I-5 exit 242.

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But It Makes One Bicep Look Bigger…

Some of you may believe

That I wear my heart on my sleeve

As a matter of choice,

But don’t heed that voice.

There was a surgeon who’s since taken his leave…

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An Only-Somewhat-Exaggerated Tale Of Today (Dedicated To Seth)

Today I drove a thousand miles

From WA to San Jose,

With a bunch of flaming morons

Tailgating me the whole way,

Weaving through the traffic

Like quilters yearning for death

All behind a mini cooper

Going 20 (License Plate: IMSETH).

As I recline, safe somehow,

On my Californian bed

A realization formed inside

My woeful weary head.

I-5 South, the freeway

A thousand miles through crazyville

Should better be renamed

The route of all evil.

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