Growing up means being sleepy
But working anyway,
Trying hard to not be creepy
While you earn your pay,
And maybe plotting a murder or two
But not giving that away.
Tag Archives: Adulting
A Portrait Of The Artist As A Working Adult
Sometimes I am sleepy
So I write a haiku
To fulfill my daily promise
Of writing poems for you.
Sometimes the day after
My sleepiness departs
And I grace you with a poem
About love or dogs or farts.
Other times my sleepiness
Remains in all it’s splendor
For sleep has been neglected
By me, it’s sworn defender.
And so on such occasions,
Hypothetical as they may be,
I write two haikus in a row
(And sometimes even three)
But tonight I use a tactic
Less observed but just as smart:
I write about my writer’s block
And pass it off as art.
Filed under Poems
Growing Big And Strong
When I was a kid I ate mac and cheese;
Now I eat pasta au gratin.
I used to eat hot dogs with ketchup;
Now I eat bratwurst. Ooh la lan.
I used to eat burgers and french fries;
Now I order steaks frites on a bun
But the day I stop eating potato volcanos
Is when childhood’s really done.
Filed under Poems
Innocence Dies First, Closely Followed By Spontaneity
Being an adult
Means you schedule things like sex
And video games
In Retrospect, Childhood Had Its Perks
I have to go to bed soon
And wake up before quarter-to-noon
And then drive my car
And not get a gold star
And I can’t even watch a cartoon!
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 