The fragments of a sunny mind
Coalesced in humble station
Do take images clear and true
To merge by obfuscation.
Meter and alliteration,
Thesaurus ad infinitum;
The poet utilizes these
As his poems, he does write ’em.
What once was green and white
Is basil and alabaster
If indeed the poetry you find
Is scripted by a master.
With these prerequisites complete
Thus finished is the poetic feat,
But resist that tempting lure.
Add a few more stanzas to be sure.
Filed under Poems
This day we gather
To celebrate
The death of a guy
We all grew to hate.
He’s the guy who thinks
He is very important.
More important, certainly, than you.
He’s the guy who won’t listen,
Who boasts of his money,
Who gets angry out of the blue.
He the guy who feels good
So long as you don’t,
Who thinks life is a zero sum game,
And the guy who knows
Everyone is unique,
But still chooses to treat them the same.
You all have experience
Unique to ourselves
That make up our vision of the departed.
The guy who was clingy,
The guy who talked loudly,
The guy who left you broken hearted.
And so as we bury this unlikeable guy
Take a minute to think of your dislike and why,
And cherish his memory, for through it you see
The things that, to live well, you must never be.
The Daily Travesty 