In 36 minutes
The world goes on sale
And you can buy with a click
A big TV
Or game machine
Or even a bigger… machine.
You can spend
With a plastic card
From a company that travels to Venus
But you’ll still seek
A solution to
Your very tiny… bank account.
I didn’t mean
For this poem to be
This amount of long,
But then I thought
Of way too many
Things that rhyme with… ya know?
And so I end
With a big salute
To anyone named Morgan
And wish you
Happy Prime Day
And a poetic male organ.
Filed under Poems
Yesterday, no poem
Was published upon this site;
No letters marked with blackness
Formed a word against the white.
I wrote no form of humor
That is funny ’cause it’s dumb…
On the one hand, sorry.
On the other, you’re welcome!
Filed under Poems
I gained a couple of pounds
Since the last time I was seen.
I’m noticeably wider
Since the start of quarantine.
I’ve got handles for lovin’
But no contact with my queen.
Life has stalled, I’m going bald
And I gained Covid 19.
I’m sitting at home on a Monday
Drinking water straight from the tap
While I stare at some novels by time’s greatest minds
And then sit and write out this crap.
Then I picture you, my dear reader
With more money and power than me
Reading this crap on the internet
And I know, in a way, you’re like me.
Filed under Poems
Yesterday, I swore
To put in the work,
In no effort fail
And in no duty shirk,
With hopes that what came
Would be “awesome and clever.”
I fulfill that promise
This evening. However…
I spent the afternoon
Teaching and gaming
Then followed that up
With some Pokemon taming.
Now with just 32
Minutes to go
‘Til what is today
Becomes what’s tomorrow
I write out this poem
With many a rhyme
So that reading it all
Will take you a long time,
The idea being
If you must work hard
You’ll think me more effortful
And, thus, a good bard.
And if you stopped reading
Before that confession,
Having been turned off
By your own first impression
Or else by the length
Of the stuff with no point
Then you, with the title
Of “dude,” I anoint.
Alas, as I wrap up
These meaningless stanzas,
The latest of many
Poem-stravaganzas
I shed but one tear
For the non-finishers who’d
Feel so happy knowing
I’d anointed them “dude.”
Filed under Poems
Tomorrow it shall be
My sincerest endeavor
To compose some light verse
That’s both awesome and clever.
Tonight my endeavor’s
To not lose my clout
While I promise you good stuff
That’s yet to come out.
Filed under Poems
Let me show you my nest,
The place I rest my head,
Full of feathers and down,
The protection we shed.
We’ll regrow them in time.
They adorn my haven,
Nothing but sticks and mud
And a home for a raven.
My nest’s in a tree.
The tree’s made by rain.
Rain makes my wings heavy
And makes flying pain.
If the sun comes around
And then refuses to set
I’ll have no tree or nest,
So I pray to be wet.
Bugs and worms fill me up
So I may keep eggs warm
So my nest will be full
With a small raven swarm
Who complain of the rain
And fear losing a feather
And I don’t mind their kind
And I treasure “together.”
Soon they’ll be showing
A tree with their nest
And “together” is gone
And it’s all for the best.
Filed under Poems
I got a letter in the mail
From a Jehovah’s Witness
Which explained God’s will to me
And wished me mental fitness.
It told me, “God is watching
“And he’s offering you a lift,”
And yet I’ve seen no news
About the death of Taylor Swift…
Filed under Poems
The loyal tortoise ambles
Through a forest full of brambles
Where once a meadow full of flowers flourished,
Where once the stamens danced
And petals bright entranced
Now a harsher foliage is nourished.
The tortoise tries a bite
Of whatever plant’s in sight
Its mouth enduring savagery and pain
For the aged tortoise knows
That they who seek a rose
Will, in the process, find that thorns they gain.
The tortoise eats its pick
Though much may make it sick
In hopes of finding what it thinks is lost.
The tortoise chews and bleeds
Just to satisfy its needs,
To find its rose regardless of the cost.
Somewhere amid the brush,
In a pocket, dark and hushed,
A seed emerges from the salty soil.
Its leaves taste stale air,
But the seed does not despair
For beauty never grows bereft of toil.
Someday the rose will bloom
And emerge amidst the gloom.
Perhaps the tortoise finds it after all.
Fearless are the plants of old,
Or so another tortoise told
In tales to seeds and to the ones who crawl.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 