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.
Tag Archives: Dreams
Perhaps It’s Good Not To Remember Your Dreams
“Cyber chickens do not deserve Yolanda”
Was the first thought to pop into my head
When I sat down to write today’s poem
After exiting my way-too-comfy bed.
I don’t know the meaning of that musing
And likely it has no meaning at all
But if you are Yolanda do not settle
For a cyber chicken who isn’t on the ball.
Filed under Poems
The Stakes Are Low And The Cakes Are Dry
I baked a cake in the microwave,
Forgot my keys, chose not to shave.
I wore white jeans after labor day
And yet somehow I’m still okay.
I woke up at 6:00 and stayed in bed ’til noon,
Thinking both times were a bit too soon.
I left dishes in the sink and clothes on the line
Yet somehow the world turned out just fine.
I freudian-slipped that Rosebud was a sled
And nobody minded or ended up dead.
I’ve done this and more and I won’t lie:
It’s great to be a single guy!
Filed under Poems
Don’t Let The Faux-Somnolent Diminish Your Importance!
When one says “I must be dreaming”
(Implying you’re something they snoozed)
You should slap them with a chicken
Just to make them more confused.
An alligator also works
But they’re tougher to hide.
Also, if you’re sleepy and poultry-phobic
I find it’s best to stay inside.
Filed under Poems
The True MVP!
When you’re young, people ask
“What do you want to be
“When you grow up,” and today
I found my answer (finally)!
I want to be the guy whose job’s
To be the obscure-stats fairy
And Google crap that nobody knows
And tell the guys doing commentary
So when the score is 12-8
In a game involving someone named “Lou”
Because of me you’ll know that hasn’t happened
Since 1962!
Filed under Poems
And, Somewhere, A Naked Professor Sheds A Tear Over His Sushi And Immediately Regrets It…
If wishes were fishes
We’d eat way more trout,
If thoughts were diplomas
We’d have much more clout,
If logic were clothing
We’d mostly be nude,
But if teardrops were onions
We’d really be screwed.
Filed under Poems
Aria for Happy Fools and Background Noise
Our lives are like a song
In a language we don’t know.
Our feet tap to the beat of the world
When we feel that special flow.
It starts out as a whisper
And builds into the cry
Of a baby with the will to sing
But no knowledge how or why.
It may turn many corners.
It changes every verse.
The song always gets better
Even if it may sound worse.
Some songs will stop too suddenly
And some go on too long.
Since we don’t know what we’re singing
Why care if something’s wrong?
You can sing however’s comfortable.
When all is said and sung
I hope I’m singing nonsense
‘Til I get my iron lung!
Gridiron
Gray steam rises from the sod
Obscuring the outlines
Of eleven men who would be God
If their teammates become so first.
The sky is darkness no one sees
Behind the lightning wall.
The crowd is warm despite the breeze
And bravado shields a heart’s true thirst.
A coin is flipped, a ball is thrown,
And bodies slowly shatter,
A ring is forever. A broken bone?
A pittance to the undying.
And so they fight, part man, part boy
So does decay commence.
They’ll either bottle tears of joy.
Or else just end up crying.
Here we see the warriors die,
Although they call it play,
Our voice is one great battle cry
To lend the few our will.
No longer are our swords so deft,
But fantasy’s alive.
Long ago the dragons left,
But here there’s magic still.
Filed under Poems
Last Time I’ll Use Tinder! (AKA Morning Head)
This morning I woke up in Heaven
In my bed at 10:43.
The sun glowed gold. I smiled
And your face smiled back at me.
The coffee and breakfast was ready
With a whole day to spend with my queen.
I looked back at your face and realized
Your body was nowhere to be seen.
Turns out to awaken in Heaven
Is not always as nice as it seems,
Or so I discovered when angels
Began to harmonize songs with my screams.
As I woke back on Earth to the thunder
All pale, sweaty, cold, and alone
I realized Heaven’s got its downsides
And sometimes there’s no place like home.
Filed under Poems
Dream Jobs
When I was a baby
I went to a farm
And learned about the origins of milk.
I was curious and asked
What happens if you’re tasked
With squeezing udders of the masculine cow’s ilk.
And when farmers laughed
And the parents cringed
I knew I’d stumbled on something good
And I knew when I grew up
I would be an artificial inseminator
Whether or not I really ought or should.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 