Am I the only one
Who’s lonely at night,
Who drinks from the faucet,
Who doesn’t want to fight?
Am I the only one
Whose hot chocolate is made
Without any water
But instead lemonade?
Am I the only one
Whose blowholes get sore
When I inhale the air
That you buy at the store?
If you’re ever unsure
If you’re normal or weird
Know that I’m right there with you
And so is my beard.
Filed under Poems
I made a pizza
With with kale and s’mores,
Sime slightly-burnt Dr. Pepper
And pastrami galore!
Now you mean to say
You ain’t hungry no more?
Filed under Poems
Dancing fairy lights.
Look again and it’s a truck.
Should’ve looked both ways.
Filed under Poems
I’m crying like an onion
At a family reunion,
Laughing like a hyena
Listening to itself laugh,
Questioning everything
Like a / with a stuck shift-key,
Floating like a butterfly,
Stinging like the aftermath
Of an inadvisable romantic encounter.
Chick flicks, eh?
Filed under Poems
I play “Blue”
For 22.
You play “defenistrate”
For 108.
I play “equine”
For 59.
You play “Chrysanthemum”
For 201.
I play “admittance”
For a pittance.
You play “kalamazoo.”
Why do I still play with you?
Filed under Poems
I don’t mean to turn molehills
Into figurative mountains,
But tall and short people
Still must drink from different fountains.
Filed under Poems
The shape of Mount Everest,
And nearly the size
My dog’s defecation
On my neighbor’s lawn lies.
The shape of an axe
(Because that’s what it is),
My neighbor reminds me
To keep off what’s his.
The shape of a puppy
And the acent of a fart,
My dog watches this thinking
“They just don’t get my art.”
So I hear you’re watching Jeopardy
And thinking “hey, that could be me.”
Alas, the auditions passed
And it turns out you weren’t cast.
Sure it’s sad, but cheer up the though!
I’ll cast you for another show.
If you’re good at playing games,
And have trouble remembering names
You’re on the show! Congrats! Yoo hoo!
It’s called “how the heck does that guy know you?”
Filed under Poems
Internet dating
And income taxes
Are emotionally the same.
There’s little fun
In either one,
And both will cause you pain.
No one says
“I’ve made enough
“And I’m happy to contribute
“To an elite few
“Who’ll give to you
My wealth to redistribute.”
Likewise, those
Who go online
To stop their solo-selfie habit
Will seldom say
“She looks ok.
“I just hope we don’t kill the rabbit.”
Instead, you
Fill out some forms
Which make you very bored.
A silent alarm
Says “this may cause harm,
“But chances are you’ll be ignored.”
You look closely
For line 1F,
It’s gone, but you search some more,
Then you say “good enough”
To five digits of fluff
(Or for poets like me, prob’ly four).
And then your attention
Goes all out
On trying to attractively answer
“What makes you feel alright
“On a Saturday night?”
When the truth’s “writing poems about Cancer.”
And when you’re finished
You feel exposed
And tired from each number and letter,
But you won’t go to jail
Or with sexy toys flail.
Now there, don’t we all feel better?
Filed under Poems
I said she smelled flagrant
And her mood got all wrecked.
It didn’t help when I said to her
“Autocorrect.”
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 