Back in 1996 we moved to Pallet Town
Where there are two houses
And electric mouses
And a research lab that’s brown.
Now our trainer starts their quest in the hills of Cabo Poco.
It’s the exact same thing
But with 3D bling
And NPCs who say “Loco.”
When I am 58 years old I’ll go to Quantum Prime
Where I’ll get my starter
And then depart for
Eight badges and fighting crime.
Filed under Poems
I wanted to get a tattoo
Of something that was always true
To remind myself by simple sight
Of something that is always right.
I thought of words, but words can change
Like “queer” no longer meaning strange
And alphabets can change a lot…
“So much for a tattoo”, I thought
But what about a picture that
Reflects the world and where I’m at?
A picture that will grow with me
No matter who I grow to be?
I used to love a Pokemon
But my favorite one keeps moving on.
I used to think that I was wise
But what I knew were often lies.
I used to be a man of God
But now I find the Bible odd.
And then, at once, it came to me!
An image only I could see
That would grow and change as I
Would grow and change and smile and sigh:
My skin, unchanged except by age,
My empty slate, my blank white page.
I’ll know, I know, I knew I’d see
I need no mark to just be me.
Filed under Poems
The world has three types of people:
Those who raise awareness for issues,
Those who laugh at the awareness-raisers,
And those who think the other types
Should be the change they want to see.
Unfortunately, the type who make changes
Require a 200 GB update to the system
And God still has dialup.
Filed under Poems
Waiting for the bus
In the rain
Next to other people
Who don’t have their bus passes.
Waiting for the bus.
Such a pain!
Other people are talking to me
Mostly out of their asses.
Waiting for the bus,
Not a train.
Other people haven’t gotten the hint that my failure to acknowledge their attempts to converse mean I don’t want to converse.
Such is the transport of the masses.
Then the bus arrives
And my jaw falls limply.
She steps off, so graceful,
So beautifully simply.
I watch her meander
Like a flower in the breeze,
Warm and fragile like stained glass
And as innocent as a sneeze.
I mean to call out to her
So she might look my way
But I find my tongue and brain
Cannot agree on what to say.
I dumbly watch her disappear
And without so much as fuss
I’m standing by myself once more
Just waiting for the bus.
Why is my bed so warm
And the world so cold?
When my dreams are so young,
How does life get so old?
Why do we hide from the rain,
When the sun does the burning?
Is it money or love
That keeps the world turning?
I realize now
That this poem repeats
Yesterday’s theme
Only with different beats,
And maybe I’d change it,
But I don’t see the harm
When the world is so cold
And my bed is so warm.
The Daily Travesty 