Tag Archives: Life


When the moon rises high

Over your sleeping body

And the night fairy carries out schemes

You cannot perceive

The world as it is

But instead you see into your dreams.

In dreams you’re a giant,

A wizard, a toaster,

A breakfast of bacon and eggs

And you fight with a demon

Who looks like your neighbor

Except for his seventy legs.

You dream of a princess

Named “Costco Potatoes”

Who sings about pudding and skin

And then you awake,

Completely forgetting

The fantasy world you were in.

Lost are the memories

Of worlds unimagined

Like socks, lyrics, birthdays, and names,

But you know you are dreaming

When someone is screaming

“Your mixtape is actually flames!”


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When Poetry Doesn’t Pay The Bills (Also, But My Books)

Today I made money

By performing tasks.

That’s why this poem’s late and bad

In case anybody asks.

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Honestly, It Feels Wrong To Give This Poem An Ironic Title, So I’m Just Going To Call It “Charles”

I am not the clothes I wear.

I’m not the style of my hair.

I’m not my height or weight or style,

Neither my scowl nor my smile.

All these things that you can see

Mean nothing to that which is me.

I’m what I do, or so I’ve found;

My body’s just to get around.

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Success Is A Choice

Somewhere past the mountains,

O’er the river, by the glade

Is a land of fame and fortune

Where a fellow might get laid.

Somewhere by my bedside

There’s chocolate cake and beer

And a whole day to play Skyrim

So my choice is pretty clear.

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Wake Me Up When September Ends

Some may think it’s pretty neat,

But I just think its’s strange,

That there are people in the street

Protesting climate change,

Demanding that reality

Conform to how they view it

And thinking politicians

Have the tools with which to do it.

Meanwhile, folks RSVP’ed

To commit a federal crime

Via Facebook, storming Area 51.

(This stanza ends with a rhyme)

I think that this September

Is as dumb as a month can get,

But then I smile and remember…

It hasn’t ended yet.

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We’re All In The Mood For A Melody (And You Know The Rest)

“I’ve got a song for you Billy,”

The executive told Mr. Joel.

“It’s a song for the sad, lonely everyman

“And the pianist has a prominent role.”

“Sounds pretty fly,” Mr. Joel said,

“And I have but one simple request:

“I think we’ll have one short piano bit

“And let harmonica guy do the rest.”

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I said “People love dying of cancer

“And stinky electrical stuff.

“Why don’t we combine them?”

Then the corporations called my bluff.

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