If You Don’t Remember “Hang Up The Phone, I Need To Yahoo Search Something,” You’re Too Young To Get This Poem

One low buzz, eleven beep-boop

Ba-ba-ba beeps

Then six seconds of static

That gives you the creeps,

Then the death metal chorus

Played on a child’s toy

And the internet is yours to use.

Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy!

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Idioms, Like Pubic Hair, Are Better When Short

When life gives you lemons

You make lemonade

Then you give it to children

Who sell it and get paid

Then give you their money

Which your wife will then spend

And life gives you more lemons

And when will it end?

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Legalize Normalcy

If you call yourself a poet

You’re judged by your degrees,

The person who you voted for,

How often you hug trees,

Whether you can rhyme things

Or use semicolons right

And, most important, whether

You have a penis or are white.

I am not a poet,

Though to you that’s no surprise.

I’d rather sleep in Saturday

Than watch the sun arise.

I do not care for wheelbarrows

On which so much depends.

I’m one of the mere commoners

Whom nobody defends.

I write, not for an audience,

But for the ones like me

Who want to dance the rain away

And feel completely free

But have to read a book about

What things are right to say,

Waiting to dance in private

Once the poets go away.

I feel like a geode,

Full of color, trapped in stone,

But thanks to anonymity

I needn’t be alone.

I can be with all of you

And hold you in my heart

By failing to see beauty

In what poets call their art.

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Unfair Practice

Back when I was an athlete

In high school, I was late

To almost every practice

Which didn’t turn out great.

Coach made me do pushups,

Which would normally be fair

Except my father was the coach

And he’s the one who drove me there.

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Find Someone Who Loves Your Crazy?

I asked this girl that I just met

“What things make you feel upset?”

She said, “When I need to cry

“But alligators attack me from the sky.”

Then, like kind girls tend to do,

She asked “That’s me… how ’bout you?”

“Mostly milk, but also a falling gator.”

Then we agreed to marry later.

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The New American Dream

Anti-racism

Is when white people

Protest against white people

For being white.

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Forever Mine

I’m not afraid to make it known

I want this more than you.

I want to find a partner

Who is loyal, kind, and true.

I only want to have one talk,

A talk that never ends,

And to be more than lovers:

To be two forever friends.

I want you to have my kids,

To raise, protect, and feed.

I want to be your every want

And fill your every need.

I want to text you memes at night,

House hunt with you on Zillow,

And when we are a world apart

To smell you on my pillow.

Tonight and every night from now

I’ll wish upon a star

And ask whatever gods may be

To show me who you are.

Until the stars or gods or fate

Fulfill this wish of mine

I’ll work to be the man you want

To call “Forever Mine.”

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Ordinary Things Can Be Special Too

Somewhere near you

There’s a puppy in a blanket,

A warm spot of sunlight,

A bright blooming flower.

You may never see them,

But still you are blessed

Because to look for them

Is your special power.

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The Arborist’s Dilemma

In the pandemic work has been scarce

And rent is still not free

So I was ecstatic when an old hermit

Said he had yard work for me.

He showed me what once was a noble old cedar

That once proudly stood in the park

Until some young people, for whatever reason,

Stripped the old tree of its bark.

The old man had hired me to glue to the cedar

A fresh set of bark, to restore

A tree to its glory. That ends not the story

Because, yes, you guessed it… there’s more

For In the pandemic, unemployed and discouraged

I’d taken to habits of drinking,

And on that bright morning I set off to work

I was out of the habit of thinking.

With heart full of vigor and head well hungover

I glued on a bucket of bark

And though the idea at first seemed uncanny

The contrast, in hindsight, was stark!

And then the old hermit came to see progress

And laughed with a senile glee,

Saying “I meant the cedar beside the bench, boy.

“I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree!”

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With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility… For About 90 Milliseconds Before You Dissolve

I’m not just an average Tom, Dick, or Harry.

I’m a powerful person. How powerful? Very!

I quit being an average Harry-Dick-Tom

When I was bit by a radioactive nuclear bomb!

Now in my blood a great power is pulsing

And my every finer of being is convulsing

Until, like a hero, I burst into flame

And fly into the air and learn power is lame.

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