Sometimes I wonder
If deaf people have to censor rap videos
Because someone accidentally curses in sign language.
Tag Archives: Life
An Honest Fairy Tale
A long, forgotten time ago
In long-forgotten lands
There lived a pair of lovely twins
Who worked as stablehands.
The first girl was named Allison,
The second, Mirabella.
Both had dreams of rescue
By a prince (or princely fella).
Both were bright and beautiful
And full of youthful vigor,
Their smiles were breezes in the heat
And fires within the frigor.
Allison worked hard all day
Attending to the mules,
Believing that her honest work
Would lead to princely jewels.
Mirabella worked instead
As little as she could,
Aiming to stay soft and clean
As any princess should.
Many peasants came to try
To earn a sister’s heart.
Some were strong or rich or brave
And others still made art.
But neither flowers and poetry
Nor deeds both great and small
Could attract the twins, who wanted
A prince, else none at all.
Allison grew old and strong
And wealthy all the while.
Mirabella just grew old,
But did it with a smile.
There are far fewer princes
Than lovely stablehands
In both the world in which we live
And long-forgotten lands.
Neither twin could find a prince
And neither was a wife
But both, at least, had managed
To live a happy life.
Filed under Poems
Infinity
I was an ordinary guy
Who married a single mom.
My new wife had an adult son…
I chose to call him Tom.
I was the product of a household
If a single mom as well
And it just so happened that my mom
Was my son Tom’s new belle.
Mom and Tom got married
And things got really fun
‘Cause a man who’s now my uncle
Is also my stepson.
Also interesting,
And nearly twice as bad,
Is that my stepson/uncle
Is also now my dad.
So if my son’s my father
Then I really have become
My own father as well
Since I’m my father’s father’s son.
Thus I am at once myself
And someone unrelated.
One of me is weirded out;
The other is elated.
Dreams
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!”
Filed under Poems
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.
Filed under Poems
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.
Filed under Poems
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.
Filed under Poems
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.
Filed under Poems
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.”
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 