Slice of lemon in your glass?
That happens all the time,
But have you ever wondered why
It’s not a slice of lime?
The lighter-colored citrus fruits
Are served most frequently
Because climate change and racists.
That’s what half the people see.
The other half are shouting
That the lack of water-limes
Is thanks to the free-market
In these far-from-certain times
And that the pro-lime lobbyists
Will take your guns away
And so in lemon drinks we trust…
In Jesus’ name we pray.
Filed under Poems
Some folks say women and men.
Some say females and males.
I say:
Some lives have a destination.
Some lives are about the journey.
Some people like kisses.
Some people prefer hugs.
Some are busy writing:
There is a mighty crater here
Where recently there wasn’t.
Ali-Baba said his bomb works
And I said “No it doesn’t.”
Ali-Baba sure was right.
Correct ’twas the hunch he had,
But he misread the bombs locale.
Thus ended his jihad.
They can trap us in their zoo
Behind their walls of glass
And teach us social boundaries
That we’re not allowed to pass,
Feed us just enough bad news
To keep our anger stoked
So we don’t see the sedatives
With which we’re being poked.
We the livestock draw the crowds
Of wealthy and elected
Whose power cries more loudly
Than the souls they have neglected.
They say they’ll cure our poverty
If they can have their way
Then toast with million dollar wine
And fly their jets away.
We watch the birds who fly outside
This zoo we somehow cherish.
We think that if we join them
We would starve or freeze or perish,
Yet the glass is not unbreakable
In our patron’s steel zoo.
Some of us still crave the sky
And so I ask: Do you?
Being human is great
But the best thing to be
Reincarnated as
(According to me)
Is the inside part
Of the roof of a home
‘Cause you aren’t at all sentient
And people leave you alone.
Filed under Poems
Everything in life worth knowing
Can be found in a hard-boiled egg.
If you don’t see how that’s possible
Your name probably isn’t Greg.
Filed under Poems
If you ever meet a cannibal
And it wants to eat your flesh
And you want to look less finger-lickin’ good
Then scream and cry and wail
‘Cause cannibals don’t like
The taste of chicken. Are we understood?
Filed under Poems
