I can cause you pain
With two memorable words:
Yellow Submarine
Category Archives: Poems
Portrait of the Fuehrer as a Young Man
“Look, a bird!”
The banker said
As he pointed high
Above my head.
There was no bird;
It was a ruse.
That’s probably why
I hate the Jews.
Filed under Poems
Camping
Polite society demands
Knowledge of useless things
Like how to dress and shaking hands
And “Red Bull gives you wings.”
But in the woods we socialize
In much more pleasant ways
Like cooking meat over a fire,
Not showering for days.
We sleep in tents upon the ground
And wake up with the sun.
We fight off bugs and bears and stuff.
We think that’s really fun.
When our trip ends we must return
To home and cubicles
To learn again our lot in life:
To learn to love the lulls.
But I won’t do that anymore.
I’m staying in the woods,
Where I can sing among the birds,
Free from the world of should’s.
And so I did ’til I ran out
Of beans and other tack.
Now back to home to better plan
The day that I come back…
Filed under Poems
Finally, A Use For It!
Six months since I finished college,
Four years wasted I reckon
For I can’t remember what I “learned”
And waitstaff openings beckon.
So one afternoon in protest
I went to my front door
And laid down my diploma
Right upon the mudroom floor.
That autographed piece of card stock
Was not very useful at
Getting a foot in the door,
But it makes a good DiploMat.
Filed under Poems
The Observers
There once were some NSA agents
Who wanted to start a band.
They dreamed everyone would watch them
Across their secure homeland.
One of the guys played the data bass,
And another tapped all the drums.
One filled out forms in the corner
And the boss just twiddled his thumbs.
And so formed the band, “The Observers.”
They lacked talent, but had admins galore.
They became a huge thing overnight,
Perfect for the news to ignore.
They sang of bureaucracy’s beauties
And of what you did in 2005.
They had mosh pits called “internet forums”
Wherever they concerted live.
The Observers still play on the weekends;
It’s a sensible thing to do
To get them pumped up for another week
Of the best show in town (which is you).
In unrelated news, I’m enjoying my stay on the “do not fly” list.
Filed under Poems
One Ounce Lighter
Some called me “Alpha,”
Some called me “Spot.”
The spot-callers betrayed me,
And joking I’m not.
I went in the Mazda,
Promised a w-a-l-k,
Not once thinking of
What they soon took away.
Some called me “Alpha,”
Some called me “Spot.”
Some days I woke up horny.
These days I do not.
Filed under Poems
Mona
I put you on a canvas,
Though a small one, I’ll admit.
I paint the oily background
Behind where you do sit,
And I say “parlez fromage”
And you smile a little bit.
Filed under Poems
Fluffy, White
Have you ever looked up at a cloud
And spoken of its looks aloud?
“That one looks like Canada.”
“I thought it looked like a pelican. Huh.”
It’s a childish game, I guarantee
But play it once to help you see
That a childish game just once a day
Makes fluffy and white what once was gray.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 