Tag Archives: Happiness

Goliath Is Overrated

What if you were the Ocean,

The giver of life?

The sun in the sky,

The opponent of strife?

How ’bout Abraham Lincoln,

The breaker of chains,

Or the guy who made aspirin,

Reliever of pain?

If you were a titan,

A hero to all

Would you waste your own life

‘Cause today you feel small?

So why open that bottle

Or play Russian Roulette

Just ’cause your inner titan

Hasn’t changed the world yet?

And if, on the off chance

You’re the non-titan type

You still have good reasons

To live without gripe:

Many a diamond

Began life as mere coal

And the smallest of molehills

Means the world to its mole.

Every flower must bloom,

Every river must flow.

It takes millions of light years

To see a star’s glow,

And your non-titan life

Is a life nonetheless.

Whose molehill will you be?

That’s anyone’s guess.

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The Victors

You see the victors on parade,

Their smiles of sweet relief.

You hear their proffered words of thanks

For the ending of their grief.

But what they do not realize

Through their newfound lack of pain

Is that to stay victorious

They’ll have to win again.

They’ll have to reface challenges.

They’ll have to reforge swords,

Reconquer their old demons

And rechallenge hated hoards.

They’ll have to suffer all again

And all this not to grow

But just to stay a victor:

And maintain the status quo.

Yes we conquered those we feared

And silenced those we hate,

But should we take such lavish pride

In merely stalemate?

So watch the victors on parade

But envy them do not!

You would not wish on anyone

The pain the victors brought

Nor would you wisely wish to feel

Their pride in wielding well

The arms and armor of the war

That merged the Earth and Hell.

One day we’ll see no victory,

No men will march with pride.

We will erect no monuments

For those who bravely died.

We’ll stand without a trophy

And we’ll not conceal our grins

For all will be the victors

Come the day when no one wins.

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Texas Nursery Rhymes

The itsy-bitsy spider

Climbed up the water spout.

Down came the fist!

It’s guts went spilling out.

Out came the kleenex

To wipe the guts away

And the not-so-puny human

Just went on with his day.

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Poetry > Humans

When, in poems, rhyming’s done

Most people think its lots of fun

But in day-to-day conversing

I notice the trend of fun reversing.

It’s as if, when someone speaks

And you interject a word like “creaks”

The custom of matching final phonemes

Becomes less fun than it, in poetry, seems.

So whenever people get in a huff

When my replies happen to rhyme with their stuff

I’m glad to use this blog as a replacement

For talking to people outside of my basement.

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The Two Great Sources Of Human Suffering

The greatest mistakes man has committed

Are deferring their joy to be wealthy

And the not telling a lie when it was discovered

That eating kale was healthy.

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My Angsty Years

Somewhere around fifth grade

I asked myself why

I should work to make money

‘Til I get sick and die.

So I sought counter-culture,

Tried to listen to rap

But found “counter-culture”

Espoused the same crap.

Fight club was edgy

But I don’t like fighting.

MGTOW was compelling

But I’m fond of white-knighting.

So here I was, trapped

Between primness and zeal

Before I found out

That’s what most people feel.

The thug life chose me

But because I abhor it

I friend-zoned the thug life

And we’re both better for it.

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Paper Heart

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.

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