There’s something to be said
For chatting without snap,
Books without face,
Interacting without that crap…
Gramming that’s not instant,
Interests that aren’t pins,
Singing without tweeting.
Real friends don’t need log-ins.
I think our society’s forgotten
The value of offline truth
So why not forget your password
And go enjoy your youth?
Filed under Poems
I read my child the story
Of a little red poultry whom
I respect, thus its female genitalia
Did not cause me its gender to assume.
My child looked up and said “Parent,
“I like when you do funny voices
“But why can’t we read about princesses
“Then make our own damn political choices?”
Filed under Poems
I’ve always admired blue whales,
The largest animals ever
Who traverse the world routinely
And are beautiful, noble, and clever.
And so I became a blue whale
But a good choice, alas, ’tis not been.
I’m surrounded by feminist bloggers
Who just wish they could grow baleen.
Filed under Poems
I remember yesterday
When to look at someone was okay,
When an elbow or a shoulder touch
Didn’t mean nearly so much.
I remember yesterday
When a compliment would make her day,
When “you look nice” was not a slur
When casually said by him to her.
I remember yesterday
When a man held doors and asked to pay,
When a bit of gentle care
Was not met with a dour glare.
I remember yesterday
When a guy could idly say
“What’s your number?” and not fear
Her screaming “rape” for all to hear.
So if you remember yesterday
In the aforementioned way
And know its loss would lead to sorrow
Let’s keep the past in mind tomorrow.
Filed under Poems
The pot called the kettle black.
The kettle thought the pot was a racist kind,
But then kettle saw that the pot was black too
And, quoth the kettle, nevermind.
Filed under Poems
Amidst the canyons of cement
I, with my board and spray-paint saw
Amidst the half-pipes, sad and gray,
A never-before-dreamt-of flaw.
For who would want to ride downhill
While listening to bands like “thrust” and “taint”
If there were no large bubble letters
Or titties drawn in low-cost paint?
And so I shook my can of blue.
My conscience whispered “make some art.”
And on the hill, for all to see,
In indigo I spelled out “fart.”
Inwardly proud I swallowed a sob
Then went back to congress to do my job.
I stood out here once before
Seeking what could not be found
Head to toe in the neon cloak of midnight
Listening for the absence of a sound.
I saw humans crawl past empty sidewalks
Burning gas and paying fares
On the way to work that will empower them
To buy their surplus worries and cares.
They seek comfort in a glasses, pills, and needles,
Pray for hope through a politician’s lies.
Paychecks promise them the satisfaction
Of being happy in someone else’s eyes.
Red-eye pilots flee this urban heaven
Carrying those with sense enough to flee.
I just read my scripts and idly wonder
What it’s like to see a real tree.
Filed under Poems
