Monthly Archives: March 2018

We Are The Sum Of Our Experiences

Have you ever seen a sunrise

And thought “that’s very yellow?”

Have you ever met a stranger

And known you do not know the fellow?

Have you ever started a poem

Without knowing how it will end?

If so I have to ask you

To stop trying to steal my identity.

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A Hollywood Musical

Hollywood!

(It’s so darn good)

Oh yes, oh yes, I say.

Hollywood!

(Land of falsehood)

Oh yes, oh yes.

Where what’s important aren’t the facts unless they fit into three acts.

The place where fiction goes to diiiiiieeeeeeee!

Where it’s okay to have no story. CGI can bring you glory.

So can manly men who cryyyyyyyyyyyy!

Hollywood!

(Our favorite wood)

Oh yes, oh yes.

They’ve done all they could

(More than they should)

Oh yes, oh yes,

To guarantee that you and me will pay hard-earned money to see

A bunch of actors green-screen flyyyyyyy!

Where shirtless six-packed men are common working at Starbucks, eating ramen

Hoping to be a leading guuuyyyyyyyyyy!

You can’t stop Hollywood!

(Long has it stood!)

Oh no, oh not Hollywood!

(What else rhymes with “wood?”)

Nothing I guess…

And if you’ve ever read the book at adaptations do not look

Because you know they’ll only break your heart in twooooooooooo!

And if derivative plotlines can’t send those shivers up your spines

Well, don’t expect the Fox execs to say boo hoooooooooooo!

They gave you big robotic brawlers

And already have your dollars

So why not make Skywalker say “screw yoooouuuuuuuuu?

So if you’re inclined to feel

You don’t want to keep it real

Then come to Hoooooooo

Llllyyyyyyyyyyyy

Woooooooooooooood….

(Dramatic pause)

Toooooooooooooooooo

Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

(Olay!)

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They Probably Met Online

Sharp and cold’s the flashing rain

Upon my black umbrella

Which I relinquish happily

Unto my new love, Stella.

Now her springtime golden tress

Is dry as my nervous mouth

For my journey takes me northward

While she vacantly looks south.

I stammer “what’s your number?”

As an adolescent might,

And I’ll never forget her eyes,

Dark blue just like the night.

“First you give me this thing,”

She says towards my umbrella,

“Then follow me for blocks

“Like I’m some sort of Cinderella?

“I won’t give you my number

“And I beg you, leave me be!”

Then she closed my umbrella

And thrust it into me.

And in that painful moment,

Twice breathless made am I

For my heart says “Dude, she saw you!”

Though my gut tells me to cry.

Thus as my tears join eagerly

The gutter’s growing moat

I wish her path be free of puddles

For I cannot lay down my coat.

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Waxing Philosophical (Hume’r Wasn’t In Descartes)

I think that great philosophers

Who from the old days came

Were the ones who didn’t laugh

At each others’ stupid names.

Think of how the commons laughed

And asked Ptolemy why

They had to spell his name

Starting with a silent pi.

Think of how these silly names

Through laughter would disable those

Who sought to set their Platos

And forkos on the tableos.

Think of poor Epictetus

The flat-chested stoic

And poor Heraclitus

Whose parents misspelled “heroic.”

I hope there’ve Bentham fun times

Locke’d within this rant.

Some days I’m very Thoreau

But today I said “I Kant.”

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Why The French Make Good High-Rollers

You may look real classy

In your souped-up chassis

And yet prove to be asses

When you read “chassis” as chasses.

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Please Objectify Me!

I think that in a former life

I was a block of wood

Because I like to do nothing

While smelling sort of good,

I’d be hurt if hit by a chainsaw

And I’m warm when set on fire.

My dream is to one day be famous

So next life I’ll be a Goodyear tire

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Not Racist, Just Comfy

I find it funny that those who fought

For an inclusive ideology

Now think that those with “normal” thoughts

Owe outsiders apologies,

That those who culturally kill their kind

Are morally superior

To those who really do not mind

If you’re black, a chick, or queerier,

That while we wear our pale skin

And external genitalia

If we don’t call these things a sin

Then somehow you think we failed ya.

But I’m content and keen to keep

My straight white male role.

My life I live, my crops I reap

In a neighborhood safe to stroll.

So if you wave your protest signs

They’ll not change how I see.

You will not find me cryin’

Because I know it’s fine to be me.

So please don’t give me an earful.

I’m happy being cheerful.

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Almost Zeus

Deep in a forest

In some ancient year

Lived the grandest buck ever,

The king of the deer.

His antlers were mountains.

Sun and moon were his eyes.

There was nothing more massive

Or nearly as wise.

He spoke only truths

And healed all ills.

His laughter was music.

His teardrops were hills.

This primeval buck

Made all that’s good, fair, and lush

But his name was “Pookums”

So you don’t hear of him much.

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Revenge

When you advocate

That slaves may chain tyrants,

That those who’re offended

May harm those who speak freely,

That hatred is evil

Unless evil you hate

Then forgive my cocked eyebrow

And my skeptical “really?”

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Is This Just Uninspired Trash Or Some Sort Of Super-Roundabout-Yomama Joke Or What?

Folks sometimes yell

“Jesus Christ!” When they’re mad,

But what did Mary shout

When Jesus was bad?

I do have a theory

And, yes, it is lame

But when Jesus was bad

Mary shouted my name.

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