Twenty years or so before
I turned the age of 24
I feared to give a paper heart
To that one special lass.
Ten years after, now 14
I’ve had my eye on other queens
But my feeling for the paper heart girl
Never seems to pass.
In the present world we find
Our troubled and still childish mind
Called to give the other sex
Eternal loyalty.
I’m loyal to who understands
My paper heart and shaking hands.
Does she still exist? Perhaps
In ten more years we’ll see.
Filed under Poems
They can trap us in their zoo
Behind their walls of glass
And teach us social boundaries
That we’re not allowed to pass,
Feed us just enough bad news
To keep our anger stoked
So we don’t see the sedatives
With which we’re being poked.
We the livestock draw the crowds
Of wealthy and elected
Whose power cries more loudly
Than the souls they have neglected.
They say they’ll cure our poverty
If they can have their way
Then toast with million dollar wine
And fly their jets away.
We watch the birds who fly outside
This zoo we somehow cherish.
We think that if we join them
We would starve or freeze or perish,
Yet the glass is not unbreakable
In our patron’s steel zoo.
Some of us still crave the sky
And so I ask: Do you?
Like the great beluga whale
It weighs a couple tons,
Is pale as homemade yogurt,
And very seldom runs,
It makes a high-pitched squealing
When it means to share its views.
It mentions it’s in 16B
And apparently that’s good news?
Filed under Poems
Bring thy swords and don thy mail.
Ensure your steed is fed.
We’ll ride before the morning
And may never go to bed.
Bestill the fear within your hearts
Though the menace so approacheth.
If thou disobey these things
Then thou we will reproacheth.
Our phalanx must stand in unity.
Our legion must conglomerate.
Your questioning, if it should show,
Brings nothing but drama ‘r hate.
We ride! We ride to battle!
To death and glorious war!
And it doesn’t help morale if you
Keep asking “but what for?”
Filed under Poems
A lot of Toms and Dicks and Harrys
Think of death as something scary,
But I see little cause for fright
In the unknown of an endless night.
Say a chicken passed away.
Some would cry and weep and sway
But I would fry it in some lard
In lieu of writing a sympathy card.
So if a friend or neighbor dies
Would it not be equally wise
Not to equate God to a beast
But to sell the corpse to Fancy Feast?
And if you are the one to pass
Why not do it with some class?
You’re dead, but life need not end. How?
Well, some call centers are hiring now…
Filed under Poems
I see a little spider
Crawling up my leg.
A part of me is screaming!
It wants to plead and beg,
But as the beast gets closer
My mind begins to clear
And I realize that, in this spider,
I have nothing to fear.
And so I watch her scuttle
From my ankle to my knee.
My two green eyes watch her
And her eight black eyes watch me,
And as our eyes make contact
I feel our spirits join.
The spider and I are friends now
As she crawls over my groin.
The spider meets my pelvis.
She passes o’er my hips.
Where once they brought me horror
Her eyes could now sink ships.
Her silky brunette body
Tempts me towards an unnamed sin
And I find myself attracted
To a patch that looks like a violin.
The spider now is crawling
Onto my left pectoral
And my mind’s engaged in matters
Of arrangements marital and floral.
She crawls onto my neck now,
Her gorgeous eyes the size of fleas.
She’s nearly to my head now
And I’m nearly on my knees.
She crawls onto my soul patch
And one of her footies slips.
I catch it and replace it
And she crawls onto my lips.
A kiss! A kiss! How lovely
As her mandibles meet mine.
I slip off into a restful sleep
As on me she starts to dine.
I don’t wake up that evening,
Nor tomorrow, nor the next,
Yet dead and cold as I may be
I do not feel vexed.
So when you see such spiders
In their web or in their lair
Instead of giving them the Kleenex
Try to show them that you care.
For though you’ll never meet them
On account of being desiccated
Your eyes will fill with baby spiders
To which you just might be related.
The babies ask “where’s daddy?”
And mommy spider’ll have a chat
And then they’ll go find love like us.
What’s more beautiful than that?
Filed under Lyrics
Once a year we celebrate
The gruesome and bizarre,
The stuff that gives clowns nightmares
And makes wolves hide under cars.
We make light of the horrific,
Let go the values we hold dear…
We call this celebration “tax day”
And it’ll come in half a year.
Filed under Poems
