Big green steamboat
With two red wheels
Casting great white wakes
In the chocolate Mississippi water.
In the distance, a brick-red city
With lights in tans and teals
And the iron evening air
Is growing blacker, hotter.
The brassy blast of cymbals
And a wailing silver sax
Play the blues for our reunion
And the clouds are stalwart brown.
I’m sitting in a steel chair
With rust like sealing wax
As a snowy egret flies into
The night in rainbow town.
Filed under Poems
I flew on a plane to New Orleans
And by now you know what that means:
I’m probably tired, and pleased to report
That this poem is late and also is short.
Filed under Poems
Sometimes the things you grew up with
Can make you feel good
Like riding bikes and Pokemon
And being misunderstood
But when you grow, perspectives change
And you see a world in pain
And it can’t be changed by touching base
Or building the best paper plane.
You see a world with real struggles
And problems with no answer
And you decide to try something
Like curing AIDS or cancer.
But as perspectives change, I think
Some problems would be solved
If more people bought a new five-speed
Or cared how monsters were evolved.
Growing up is nice and all
But never you forget
The world needs childish grownups too
For poetry and… stuff.
Filed under Poems
There once was a skeezy Paladin,
A sly assassin, a cheesy bard,
A moon priestess, an archer,
And they rolled the dice real hard.
They stopped a civil war of trolls
And saved a duke from bombs of magic
And they lived happily ever after
(Which is the opposite of tragic).
Filed under Poems
Life’s like an Oreo cookie:
The start and the end are both crappy
But the more stuff you put in the middle
The more likely you are to be happy!
Filed under Poems
Many a child was inspired by a flag
To leave home on a bus and return in a bag,
To struggle and clash with another boy who
Was raised by a flag without red, white, or blue.
It may be a purpose to live under fire
Until you return or in glory expire,
But I seek a purpose where no flags will fly
And a world where no child is inspired to die.
Filed under Poems
Today it is early.
Last night it was late.
Does my lack of a poem
Mean I had a good date?
Filed under Poems
As you read this poem
You may look upon your clock
And see either the morning’s tic
Or else the evening’s tock.
I have advice to share with you
Be it the eve or morning;
First for my evening readers, I
Do share this somber warning:
For those whose work and leisure lasts
‘Til late at night like me
You run the risk of starting a blog
Of petty poetry.
But for the morning readers
Perhaps you’ll ponder thus:
How have you time to read crap
Writ by evening folk like us?
Filed under Poems
I have to go to bed soon
And wake up before quarter-to-noon
And then drive my car
And not get a gold star
And I can’t even watch a cartoon!
Filed under Poems
Snap crackle pop
Is the sound you hear
When you pour rice crispies
And have some fun.
Snap crackle pop
May also appear
When the mouse trap makes
Your husbandly duties done.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 