I wish I had a job
Like Indiana Jones
Where I could make good money
Examining human bones.
But Dr. Jones’s job
Is great in other ways
Like the fact he has no limit
To his paid vacation days.
I’m not an archaeologist
But a poet and musician,
And as I write I realize
I am in a position
To take endless vacation days
Like Dr. Jones would do.
“Travis T. and the Crystal Skull”
Coming soon to theatres near you.
Filed under Poems
I told my throat, in a way
That was very polite (so I thought)
That although it thought it’s work was satisfactory
Truthfully it was not.
I didn’t mean to hurt its feelings
As I tried to change its ways
But I guess I did ’cause now
My throat’s been sore for days.
Filed under Poems
I’m sleepy, you’re sleepy.
We want to rest our heads
On pillows of fake feathers
On man-made plastic beds,
To cover up our bodies
With decorative textile sheets,
To halt electric lumination
And slow down our heartbeats.
We want our minds to wander
In the land of peaceful dreams
Until we gently are awakened
By sunlight’s gentle beams.
And so we go through the motions
To finally go to sleep,
We close our eyes a moment
And then our phone goes beep…
Filed under Poems
Beige chicken wonder bread!
Boredom flowing through my head.
Tan turkey whole wheat toast!
Today’s a better day than most.
Brown ostriche gluten free!
That’s a day that’s right for me.
Ochre phoenix sourdough!
Now it’s time for me to go.
(Semi-related food for thought: what would happen if you ate a phoenix)?
Filed under Poems
Refried or jelly?
Happy taste buds or belly?
Eat what I want or what I should?
Why must shit food taste so good?
Filed under Poems
Fish don’t sweat
And cars don’t bleed.
Plants don’t poop
And dogs don’t read.
Knives don’t smile
And rocks don’t get lither.
Why should she care
If I don’t do that stuff either?
Filed under Poems
The quality of being amusing,
A mood or state of mind,
To comply with someone’s wishes
Or, to kids, the word “behind.”
Filed under Poems
Some men are boob guys.
Some like hair and eyes.
Some seek butts from all across the globe.
Some go nuts for feet,
But what I think’s neat
Is a lady with some really nice earlobes.
Filed under Poems
I wanna be a henchman.
It’s been my only dream
Since I popped out o’ mommy
And I made the doctor scream.
I wanna test inventions
Not safe for normal folks,
To be the head o’ suicide missions
And the butt of all the jokes.
I want a friend named Igor,
Or a dozen, or a horde.
I want to live a life that is
Too short to ever get bored.
I want to be a henchman,
A minion, grunt, or goon,
But I failed my test for Hensa
And couldn’t be certified as a buffoon.
Hence I am a villain,
Respected, hated, feared.
I still hang out with lowlifes
But my henchmen think I’m weird.
Filed under Poems
My heart skips a beat
As our bodies intertwine,
Her hands on my shoulders,
Her lips locked in mine.
Somewhere a small voice
Says “you can’t do that here,”
But my eyes meet my love
And away goes my fear.
Our clothes are all gone
And we get on our way.
The little voice speaks
But I shove it away.
The air fills with moaning,
With screams of my name.
Our love is the water,
Our passion a flame!
After what seems a lifetime
Our forms pull away.
I hope the rec center
Will let us come back some day.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 