It’s good to be a kid
Like all of us once did,
And I think we really ought to do it more,
‘Cause maturity’s alright,
And the world may be a fright,
But without some fun it’s nothing but a bore.
So kick and throw a ball or dirt
And play until your muscles hurt
And smile and laugh until your face quits its obedience.
You’ve got all the time you need,
To work and sleep and breed,
So try to play today, with great expedience.
I play hide-and-go-seek with happiness
And a sly hider I’ve found it to be.
I’ve looked in the obvious places,
But found little appealing to me.
I searched through arts and sciences,
And geographical sites galore,
But whenever I find some happiness
I’m not happy, because I want more.
And then when I tire
And I decide to quit playing,
Happiness comes out
From where it was staying.
What I learned from the game,
At least the way I construe it,
Is that happiness hides
Only when you pursue it.
Filed under Poems
Once again I write to you,
As this poet is prone to do,
To try to change the point of view
That nobody is perfect.
So close your eyes and breathe in.
Then open them so you can read again.
Here’s my theory. There’s just one sin:
The judgement of imperfect.
“You fail, she’s ugly, he’s vulgar, I’m bad.”
According to what? Why make yourself sad?
Life is happening as it always had.
Life is always perfect.
“Why is there evil? Pleasure and pain?”
“Why is there sadness, which falls with the rain?”
Why think these thoughts? What do you have to gain?
Instead, think “This is Perfect.”
Now maybe I’m wrong, and life’s simply crappy.
Maybe you enjoy being unhappy!
You think (with good reason) this poem is sappy.
I accept those reactions as perfect.
But I hope you’ll at least give this viewpoint a try.
This change in your thinking brings blue to the sky.
You will watch your blessings multiply.
Smile! Why not?
You’re perfect.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
I believe not so much in theology.
I have very little interest in geology.
But I do have a very unique philosopy,
And I’d like to share it with you.
I call this philosophy, appropriately, “Phil,”
For that is an acronym of the initials
Or the four central pillars, make of them what you will:
I hope they will apply to you.
P is for positive,
Which is often a pain.
It means to refrain
When you’d like to complain.
When you want to criticize, simply abstain,
And you’ve mastered the first part of “Phil.”
H is for happiness,
Which is no more than a choice.
When the world offers bad things, listen not to the voice
Which would make you be said, but instead make the choice
To be happy, and you’ve mastered more “Phil.”
I’s for integrity,
A hard word to rhyme.
It means to be honest, and refrain from crime.
Do what’s right, even if it’s hard, and do so every time,
And you’re almost done mastering “Phil.”
And L is for love.
It’s predictable, yes.
It’s very important, or so I should guess.
Everyone loves someone, or something, to death;
Love everyone like them, whether Elmer or Tess.
And thus, we finish Phil.
Choose to be positive, and give folks a chance.
Choose to be happy, regardless of circumstance.
Say what is honest and do what is right,
And love every person. That is “Phil.” Good night!
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
Who the hell takes candy from babies?
Do you know anyone?
It’s a sick sort of thing, and I’m glad people don’t.
Babies just wanna have fun.
So when you are moody, sad or depressed
Or your dog’s been diagnosed with rabies,
Or society bugs you like it bugs me, at least
People don’t take candy from babies.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
You are reading this poem
On a computer made by a man
Who lives in a manufactured house
Made by someone in Japan.
The house builder wouldn’t be able to get to work
Had his buggy not been fixed
By the buggy-fixer down the road
Who ate breakfast that was mixed
By the breakfast mixer Sally,
Who sat down on a chair
That was made in Alaska
By a guy who fought a bear.
What this ridiculous scenario
Is intended to point out
Is that if we were independent,
We would be without.
For to read this, thank the British
Who invented this alphabet.
When you go to the bathroom
Thank the guy who made your toilet.
And when you laugh or smile
In your everyday life,
Thank the person who made you happy.
With joy, the world is rife.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
The Daily Travesty 