The man who has never seen an oven mitt
Will call you a fool
And flip you off with burnt fingers
After grabbing a turkey from the oven bare-handed
So maybe don’t care too much
About what other people think
The man who has never seen an oven mitt
Will call you a fool
And flip you off with burnt fingers
After grabbing a turkey from the oven bare-handed
So maybe don’t care too much
About what other people think
Filed under Poems
You say I have privilege
Because I’m male and white.
You call me uninformed
Because I don’t think you’re right.
You can have my privilege too.
All you must do to try it
Is to move out of the cities
Where “recreation” means “to riot.”
You can disagree with me
While you drink another beer
Thanks to taxes paid by this poet
Making 4-figures a year.
Filed under Poems
I find it funny that those who fought
For an inclusive ideology
Now think that those with “normal” thoughts
Owe outsiders apologies,
That those who culturally kill their kind
Are morally superior
To those who really do not mind
If you’re black, a chick, or queerier,
That while we wear our pale skin
And external genitalia
If we don’t call these things a sin
Then somehow you think we failed ya.
But I’m content and keen to keep
My straight white male role.
My life I live, my crops I reap
In a neighborhood safe to stroll.
So if you wave your protest signs
They’ll not change how I see.
You will not find me cryin’
Because I know it’s fine to be me.
So please don’t give me an earful.
I’m happy being cheerful.
Filed under Poems
I tell this tale and sing this song;
‘Tis neither short nor over long.
It is the tale of whom I met
When towards the darkness off I set.
I ventured to a fright’ning spot,
All at one both cold and hot,
And in its center stood the tree
Of personal responsibility.
And beneath that mighty central birch
I met a figure on its perch,
A lovely human, clean and bright
Yet I stood only half its height.
It spoke to me with radiant voice:
“To you I grant this single choice:
“To leave my grove, still safe and dense
“Or to eat the fruit of common sense.”
I looked again at the dreadful tree
From which grew apples, light and free
And with the hymns of wisdom fair
Filled joyfully the grove’s clean air.
And then I looked beyond the wood
To whence I came. Alas, still stood
Where man and beast were much the same,
Obsessed with power, sex, and fame.
To the glorious figure I did ask
What treachery hid within my task,
What fear and pain accompanied
The fruit of logic and its seed.
“No pain at all,” the figure said
Extending apples, smooth and red.
I knew not what was wrong nor right
But I grabbed the fruit and took a bite.
No longer was the forest bleak.
I couldn’t hide. I needn’t speak.
Where once the darkness clutched my heart
I only saw the world’s true art.
Where once I begged, now I produced.
Where once I guessed, now I deduced.
Where once had stood the figure bright
Now stood a mirror to my sight.
And yet the place from which I came
Sat glumly, still the very same.
I stood in brightness, stared at black,
And knew I never would go back.
So if you wander, wondering
Why you’re not pleased with your new thing,
Why your whole life seems second best
I summon you to join my quest,
To seek out forests rank with fear,
And from them soon there will appear
The brighter, lighter, clearer you
That knows and does what’s right and true,
Who looks at worlds of smog and spite,
Yet does his best and smiles despite.
Eat the fruit and so commence
Your brand new life with common sense!
But if back home you would return,
If common sense you seek to spurn,
If you treat dumbness with aplomb
You’ll find your kin at Facebook.com
Filed under Poems
“Killing is fun,
Don’t get me wrong.
I love being a part
Of this white-armored throng.
I’m just saying
We’ve got a whole galaxy!
Why force-murder each other?
Let’s split it 50-50.”
The last poem of an unnamed Stormtrooper Captain (55-72 ABY)
His lack of faith was disturbing.
Filed under Poems