Tag Archives: Life

I Guess This Makes Me A Bigot, Right?

Go back a century or so

And you’ve got places blacks can’t go.

You’d be shamed to dare to love

A person from a class above.

Today my alma maters wants

To build us “No white student” haunts

And though we seek to seem the same

What’s “Commonplace” is seen as lame.

Back then we fought for equal rights

For blacks and browns and reds and whites.

Now in our “That’s racist” nation

We praise illegal immigration.

Does no one else yet see the flaw

In praising those who break the law,

The symptoms of a dying nation

Shouting for resegregation?

Yes, I want love, so please desist

With calling me “Supremacist”

And maybe past our skin we’ll find

We share a human heart and mind.

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The Hippies Are Alive And Well

Sometimes I like to sit

And feel the wind between my toes,

To plant some seeds behind my ears

And see if something grows,

To boil a pot of water

Then cool it with my breath.

I call it “life with nature.”

Dad calls it “side-effects of meth.”

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Playing With A Too-Full Deck

The young bet on clubs

And slowly lose their mind.

The grown bet on diamonds

And what they seek, they find.

The old bet on spades

And in time all follow suit.

For those who bet on hearts

Best be rich, or else be cute.

Yet I drew five jokers…

I’m either destined for greatness

Or I bet on too many clubs.

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51% And Growing

What if, with perfect certainty, you knew how to be good. You

Would have no ills or evils. With this great power would you

Live your life accordingly, an angel we’d admire,

Or is flawless, certain perfection a goal to which you’d not aspire?

Now if perfection weren’t certain and ’twas painful to act well

Would you trade your Earthly pleasure for 50/50 odds of Hell?

Would you suffer every moment if it might bring future joy

Or would you say “be happy now” and make pleasure your toy?

The point that I am making is in our uncertain years

Where our good or evil instincts are affected by our fears

That we might be a villain who believes that we are just

Or perhaps a clumsy angel whose good intent is all a bust.

If you’d be truly evil or would be extremely good

Then here’s a course of action that to take I think you should:

To seek a path of certainty. Through thinking you will find

More often the results you seek are those which you will find

And if another does you wrong seek not to cast your blame

But know that if you thought like him you’d probably do the same.

Hero, villain, victim are alike a future you

So why not think and weight the coin that judges all we do?

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Now I’m Going To Get A Bunch Of Calls And Texts From Concerned People Who Think I’m Depressed When, No, I’m Just Not Particularly Inspired And MyPrevious Poems Involved How Much I Hate Zucchini And Soccer So I Figured I’d Just Publish This One. (Also, Around The Time I Wrote “Poems” In This Title I Became Unable To See What I Was Typing Because My Phone’s Screen Is Too Small So Please Forgive Any Tupoes). Also, Is There A Limit To How Long A Title Can Be?

If I weren’t so cynical

I’d probably be equally sad,

Not because I’m cynical

But because the world’s just bad.

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Nurture Your Nature

We build our lives to last

When no life ever will,

Polishing details

That only we can see.

We want to climb the ladder,

Be the king of every hill

While most things in the world

Will exist below the sea.

We bend and bleed and labor,

Flap our wings but seldom fly.

We might overcome our nature

But that is not my wish.

We could be a flying whale

But I have to wonder why

We would be unhappy whales

Instead of very happy fish.

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Dear Cheese…

Though made to feed a bovine calf

We stole you from the mother,

Mixed you with bacteria

And rennet to feed another.

We formed this new more-yellow you

Into a wheel of cheese

To be sliced and melted freely

By whosoever it should please.

Your sacrifice is noted

And has brought the world much joy

And we’ll fight to keep you relevant

In a world obsessed with soy.

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The Flavor Of “Winning”

For a moment I sat there

With blood on my hands

Smearing life on my white-bread toast

In a room all alone

With inanimate friends

In a halfway house built for a ghost.

My Ferrari was mired

In a 90-hour week

When I needed just 12 to survive

But I’d long since stopped living

For the privilege of being

Among the elite few who can thrive.

The child in the basement

Was calling for daddy

‘Til its fat little throat had gone raw

And yet I was too busy

Helping others to join me

To notice my life had a flaw.

But if I’d payed attention,

Tasted a tomato

Or felt a moth land in my hair,

Just walked outside barefoot

Or put salt in my coffee

I’d realize somehow I still care.

I care about family.

I care about freedom.

I don’t need this bottle and pill.

And maybe that baby

Will say “taste the tomato”

And if I haven’t yet died then I will.

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The Vanishing Glass

They can trap us in their zoo

Behind their walls of glass

And teach us social boundaries

That we’re not allowed to pass,

Feed us just enough bad news

To keep our anger stoked

So we don’t see the sedatives

With which we’re being poked.

We the livestock draw the crowds

Of wealthy and elected

Whose power cries more loudly

Than the souls they have neglected.

They say they’ll cure our poverty

If they can have their way

Then toast with million dollar wine

And fly their jets away.

We watch the birds who fly outside

This zoo we somehow cherish.

We think that if we join them

We would starve or freeze or perish,

Yet the glass is not unbreakable

In our patron’s steel zoo.

Some of us still crave the sky

And so I ask: Do you?

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The Answer, At Last!

All the single ladies

Ask where all the good men went,

Dreaming of the good old days

When the six-foot-plus millionaires

Without egos or exes

Would contact them conveniently

And buy them stuff

All without leaving the house.

Meanwhile the six-foot-plus

Drama-free millionaires

Are in their basements

Roleplaying car thieves

And writing bad poetry blogs.

You’re welcome.

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