Category Archives: Poems

Hindsight Is 20/100

When I was ten

The world was bright.

The sun would wear a smile.

When I was twenty

The world was fun

And I ran a four-minute mile.

After I turned the thirty

The world was my oyster.

I was truly in the flow,

And now I’m ninety-eight years old

Being told “the memory’s first to go.”

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The Silent Poet: This Is Why We Hibernate…

Amidst the misty morning,

Atop the naïve snow,

The thin white wind blew, chilly,

‘Neath sun’s unearthly glow.

The living glass of needles

Lay beneath the stalwart fir

And I, the bear, thought all this

But, alas, could only say “grr.”

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The Terrible Luck Of Being Born Into Non-Dysfunctional Cultural Paradigms

Yesterday, on Facebook,

I saw an event

That a friend wanted to,

In the future, say they went.

It was a play by Young Jean Lee

Called “Straight White Men,”

And, somewhere in my soul

I thought “Lord, not again!”

So I read the description

Of this play, ’cause ’twas late.

It said “a comedy about the people

“Who we all love to hate.”

Now that was enlightening,

And since then I’ve learned

Racism’s when white men feel good

About all that they’ve earned.

So as a straight white man

Who lives in a place

Where the windows aren’t broken

And walls aren’t defaced,

Where all violent crimes

Are, in general, rare,

I learned that such luxuries

Just aren’t fair.

I learned that I’m “privileged,”

‘Cause my life doesn’t suck,

That I’m not a poor druggy

Quite simply by luck,

That my checking account

Still has money to spare

Not because of good choices

But because life’s not fair.

Straight white men are evil

For being ourselves.

We should donate our homes

To black people or elves.

Up ’til now I’ve lived honestly,

Tried to do what was right.

I see now that’s impossible

Because I am white!

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Your Chance To Lose Money Is Finally Here! (Hi Clive)

You could put your money on the Cleveland Browns

For Super Bowl Any-time-in-the-future,

But that wouldn’t help anyone,

Let alone this poetic moocher.

Instead I’ve got a different way

To part ways with your cash

Which is by going to my Patreon

And putting it in my stash.

To those of you whose common sense

Says “but money is important”

And the thought of spending it seems, to you,

A little bit abhorrent

I’d point out that your cash will go

To helping me survive.

Nothing’s really better than supporting the arts

Except, perhaps, being named “Clive.”

But since my name is David

And your name’s probably not Clive either

Hop on over to Patreon

Like you’re an eager beaver.

If you don’t pay, the poems won’t stop;

You’ll still get these Travesties daily.

The only difference is, to get my food,

I won’t have to resort to a gladiatorial melee.

(Which is good because I’m skinny and bruise easily).

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The Best Sense Is Nonsense

The neighbor’s chihuahua

Is barking next door.

The children threw up

On the living room floor.

A road crew’s jackhammer

Is going to work

And the top trending hashtags

Are #MeToo and #Twerk.

The wife is yelling

That the kids won’t be quiet.

The kids say “it’s Trump’s fault”

And he doesn’t deny it.

And in this glorious moment

That, to you, might seem stressful

I begin to know why

Helen Keller was so successful.

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Inner City Nursery Rhymes

“Red umbrella on a bench

Next to homeless guy with stench.

Kinda wrinkly, slightly damp

Are both umbrella and the tramp.

They’ve been friends since ’98

When he bought it, as if by fate.

Together they’ve been through a lot.

They’ve weathered storms, bickered, and fought.

The hobo and umbrella pair

Possess a sense of laissez-faire.

It seems for them that things look up

As they count coins in their half-full cup.

Then they lynch a passerby;

Umbrella stabs him in the eye.”

This is why you should always look

Before you buy a children’s book!

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Is My Bed The Nicest Place On Earth, Or Is It Just Tuesday?

Two feet from where I’m sitting

There’s a mighty gale I hear.

I thought a bird hit my window,

But turns out it was a deer.

At the zoo a fish died (drowning)

And some penguins froze to death.

A politician stopped complaining

And turns out nothing rhymes with “death.”

I watched a Chris Rock movie

And not one person cussed

And in exactly fifteen minutes

I have to leave to catch the bus.

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A Friendly Poem For The Boss On Your Last Day

For all of the work

U’ve put into my life,

Can I ever thank you enough?

Kause of you I can say

Yeah, life’s terrible, but hey! Now I

Own a whole lot more stuff!

Ur name here <~~~~

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My High School Love Life

The car windows are steamy.

My chest is warm and bare.

My fingers tingle, running

Gently through her golden hair.

Her chin is in my fingers

And I pull her lips to mine.

Our tongues do dance a tango

That defines the word divine.

I pause, she gasps and whimpers

But I say “I’ll be back soon.”

I step into the parking lot

Beneath the crescent moon.

I can read “humane society”

Despite the evening fog.

I tell the clerk “I’ll take her,”

And that’s how I met my dog.

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Priorities

Gary was outnumbered

A thousand to one.

He had some chopsticks,

They all had guns,

But he screamed “for freedom!”

And charged at the rest.

I cried behind a rock and lived

So my battle cry was best.

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