What makes human beings
Different from those other beasts?
Some think it’s thinking.
This theory assumes
Other creatures cannot think.
While that might be true…
Humans also lack
This innate ability
That lets their brains think.
Here are examples:
People at four-way stop signs,
Rap, taxes, Denny’s.
Filed under Poems
Originally composed in 2012, this epic poem spans the bridge between treatise and children’s poetry. It reveals to us our own ephemeral lifestyle of insults, mindlessness, depression, old ladies whispering “hush,” and the African tourism industry Now, published for the first time, this masterpiece of modern literature, no, the definition of the future of art, is made accessible to the general public. Also, the emperor’s new wardrobe has arrived).
Good morning room,
Good morning moon.
Why are you up in the day
You stupid buffoon?
Good morning chairs
Good morning bears.
Good morning kittens
And the hairballs they spittin’s.
Good morning clocks
And good morning socks.
And green eggs and ham rocks
In a box with a fox.
Good morning comb
And good morning brush.
I feel like a nobody…
My heart turns to mush.
(And something about an old lady
Whispering “Hush.”)
Good bye stars
And good bye air.
I’m going on vacation to somewhere in Zaire.
You get it, right?
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
You go out to the movies
To watch a giant screen,
Hoping to be entertained
By J-Lo or Charlie Sheen.
But what’s hot at the movies
Are Superheroes. I must say
That I believe in real life.
We’re all heroes in our way.
According to the latest films
Batman was a wealthy man
Who was horribly afraid of bats.
By that logic, I’m Spiderman.
Superman came from the sky
And had a funny name (Kal-El).
So pilots named Shaniqua
Are super instead of lame (Well, well).
And when I started this poem
It seemed easier than it is.
So I’m leaving, to fix my wrinkly shirt,
‘Cause at the iron, man, I’m a whizz!
Filed under Poems
If you died in one hundred days,
About you, what would people say?
I’ll keep it simple: Is it good?
Have you been doing what you should?
And if you had that hundred days
And had the chance to change your ways,
What would you change about the world
Before your life did come unfurled?
Now go into the world with this:
A single goal which brings you bliss.
Now whether or not you’re going to die,
Carry out that goal. And now, good bye.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
You are reading this poem
On a computer made by a man
Who lives in a manufactured house
Made by someone in Japan.
The house builder wouldn’t be able to get to work
Had his buggy not been fixed
By the buggy-fixer down the road
Who ate breakfast that was mixed
By the breakfast mixer Sally,
Who sat down on a chair
That was made in Alaska
By a guy who fought a bear.
What this ridiculous scenario
Is intended to point out
Is that if we were independent,
We would be without.
For to read this, thank the British
Who invented this alphabet.
When you go to the bathroom
Thank the guy who made your toilet.
And when you laugh or smile
In your everyday life,
Thank the person who made you happy.
With joy, the world is rife.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
I never drink Folgers,
And I’ll let you know why.
That slogan they say
Is a big stinkin’ lie!
No matter what model
They hire to promote
Their instant coffee,
The chance is remote…
That they’ll realize
The secret we keep:
The best part of waking up
Is going back to sleep!
Filed under Poems
Dear sister, on this special day,
That occurs in August instead of May,
You’re twenty-one! Yay oh yay!
And so I mean to simply say
Happy Birthday Katy!
You make you joyful when I’m sick,
And our shared gutter mindedness is quite slick.
I mean that in a good way, not like “ick.”
You get what I mean by that, ’cause your mind is quick.
Happy Birthday Katy!
Today you can have a gun or drink alcohol.
You want to do one of those, the other not at all.
This being on a blog, people will likely not comprehend the correct option, ’cause they’re not as smart as you. Not at all!
(And if my readers are mad at my rudeness or my long lines, I’ll take the fall).
Happy Birthday Katy!
And thus your birthday is immortalized by a travesty,
As was your full name by the hurricane that started with “Katri…”
This poem’s going downhill if you see what I see,
So I’ll sign off now. Thank you Sus-comma-Je!
Happy Birthday Katy!
Filed under Poems
Hark, as this sonnet rolls across your screen,
The day unfolds before you, like thick screens.
Unless you read this sonnet at night, seen
By your eyes through darkness,without sun’s sheens.
And as you finish the first stanza here,
You visualize both day and night, yes.
Perhaps you drink some milk, or perhaps beer.
Perhaps you instead visualize chess.
Whatever sites and sights your mind goes to,
You will most certainly agree that it
Ventures there so willingly, unless you
Have a mind that decided to just sit.
But no matter what you find, here my call:
This sonnet is about nothing at all.
Broccoli, celery, artichokes, grapes,
Candy corn, hamburgers, cheeses and crepes.
Around eating these foods I do carefully traipse,
Because I am a picky eater.
Sour cream, margarine, butter, and gee.
These dairy products don’t taste good to me,
And when I see them I feel need to flee
Because I am a picky eater.
I only eat pizzas if cut in a square.
I never eat sausage or hosenfeffer.
My nutritionist’s angry, but I really don’t care
Because I am a picky eater.
However, there’s something I do like to eat.
You might find it creepy, but I think it’s a treat
To munch on my friends, their hands and their feet,
‘Cause I like to eat picky eaters.
Filed under Poems
I’m sick of dirty humor!
It spreads like a disease.
It’s gritty and bad, like a tumor,
And I think it should have fleas.
Instead I propose, to rise anew,
The shining era of clean jokes,
That bring people up, show skies are blue,
And charm both chums and blokes.
On second thought, F*** that.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 