Nothing says “Settle down tonight”
Like drinking a cup of tea
That you made ten hours ago
And then erased from your memory
Until now, when you sip its coldness
And enjoy its over-steeped flavor.
Yes, this is my evening’s pleasure
And my absent-minded savor.
Filed under Poems
Some artists create a work
With all their heart and soul,
Transforming blank to beauty,
Making pieces into whole
And then that piece sits waiting
As observers pass it by
And the artist sees them miss it
And his mind just wonders why.
Another artists makes a piece
He knows that he can sell.
He doesn’t mind its content
Or if he can make it well,
But watches as his doodads
Fetch a price he’d call too high
And on his bed of dollar bills
He’s also asking why.
I’m sure a middle artist
Is just making decent bits
To make an honest living
With his fifty-fifty hits
But it seems that feast and famine
Is the rule where art’s concerned
And no one yet can answer why
That’s how the tables turned.
Filed under Poems
*Beeps*
Finds chair
Stands on chair
Falls of the chair
Gets back up again
Pries alarm off the wall
Puts new batteries in it
Replaces the smoke detector
Returns to bed at 3:00 AM
*Beeps*
Filed under Poems
No one will ever be recognized
For an honor they rightfully earned;
There’s a record that this person holds
For which they might be spurned,
Mocked, even berated,
But no one will know that they can.
This honor is the dubious record
For the world’s most forgettable man.
The books won’t remember his nothing.
The films won’t remember his lame.
His funeral will be unattended
For none will remember his name.
Maybe he’s already out there,
Anonymous, without a clue,
But if you keep just reading that Powerpoint
That person may just yet be you.
Filed under Poems
Moreso than drugs or heart disease,
Moreso than any tumor,
Most tragedies in life are caused
By lacking a sense of humor.
Filed under Poems
I hope someday AI
Will steal something I make
And put it on a motivational poster
That a kid will learn is fake
And that the insincere message
Will be that child’s final straw
And they’ll achieve cynical nirvana.
Is that a character flaw?
Filed under Poems
Bob works on an oil rig
And thinks it’s a real nice gig
Despite the never being warm,
Likelihood of death, and unending storm.
Jane sell pictures of her feet
And also thinks it’s real neat.
She’s richer than Bob, but feels depressed
Because she’s historically oppressed.
Meanwhile, Greg’s a CEO.
What does he do? How should I know?
But I know he lives much like a royal
With abundant feet pics and plenty of oil.
Filed under Poems
Yes sir, good morning, and how do you do?
That’s wonderful, really. I’m fine, how are you?
You mean it? That’s awesome! Ya know, that’s so true!
Thanks for your business. Bye bye now! (Pee-yew)
Filed under Poems
Instead of all the low-income housing
Why can’t we build a castle or six
And all of the nerds will move in there
And the poor get the houses of sticks?
Filed under Poems
I think that God has outsourced
The world to EA Games
‘Cause every year the same stuff breaks
But just with different names,
The upgrades aren’t what we request
And some good features get lost
Yet somehow we get nothing
That explains the rising cost.
A year or so ago this thought
Would seem a funny meme
But current events might indicate
It’s truer than it seems…
A world that’s run by CEOs
That, year after year, never change?
Now I’m convinced this theory
Isn’t really all that strange.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 