With a great clatter
Falleth my platter
And on a great customer
Its contents do splatter.
And garments once gossamer,
Linen, and lace
Was not made awesomer
But red like my face.
Tag Archives: Life
I Guess The Un-Levered Few Don’t Reproduce As Much
Somewhere around the first year ever
Somebody pulled a very wrong lever
And installed in the heads of the humans to come
What, on paper, looks brilliant but is really just dumb.
When man 1.0 emerged from the ocean
At the dawn of all time he was filled with the notion
That life as he knew it as far as he could see
Was something to be taken seriously
And a serious life, as he deemed at that time
Was to have the most wealth in the light of the lime.
So man 1.0 went on to fight wars,
To invent Gods and whiskey and sliding glass doors
Each sincerely believing his life was endowed
By something that made his life special somehow.
And meanwhile the malfunctions who wanted no power
Would sleep in on Sunday and sing in the shower
And wholeheartedly laugh at the hard-working host
Knowing he who wants least will end up with the most.
And so it continues by chance or by fate
That despite each progressive human update
The lever once thrown has not yet been undone
Thus why so many people have so little fun.
But Then People Won’t Think Everything In My Life Is Perfect And Be Indifferent/Slightly Insecure About The Whole Thing!
There’s something to be said
For chatting without snap,
Books without face,
Interacting without that crap…
Gramming that’s not instant,
Interests that aren’t pins,
Singing without tweeting.
Real friends don’t need log-ins.
I think our society’s forgotten
The value of offline truth
So why not forget your password
And go enjoy your youth?
Filed under Poems
Thanks State-Funded Early Childhood Education!
I read my child the story
Of a little red poultry whom
I respect, thus its female genitalia
Did not cause me its gender to assume.
My child looked up and said “Parent,
“I like when you do funny voices
“But why can’t we read about princesses
“Then make our own damn political choices?”
Filed under Poems
The Pleasures Of Discomfort
Today I stood out in the rain
And didn’t wear my hood.
It was frigid and soggy, yes,
But still felt pretty good.
I stood and looked at nothing much
And let the boredom grow
And those tiny discomforts helped
Much more than you can know.
I talked to her at a bus stop
And watched her walk away.
I’m stronger from the fire, now
A pot instead of clay.
And as I walk home in a pair
Of shoes devoid of style
Empty pockets will warm my hands.
My whole being is a smile.
Filed under Poems
And I Realize I Should Have Forwarded Those Chain Emails After All
I stand atop the rocky cliff
Above the salty ocean blue
And shout to myself “how lovely
“And beautiful are you!”
I stand atop the rocky shore
Above the crashing waves below
And my echo calls back softly
“Whoa now! Let’s take this slow.”
Filed under Poems
Back When Some Men Weren’t Rapists
I remember yesterday
When to look at someone was okay,
When an elbow or a shoulder touch
Didn’t mean nearly so much.
I remember yesterday
When a compliment would make her day,
When “you look nice” was not a slur
When casually said by him to her.
I remember yesterday
When a man held doors and asked to pay,
When a bit of gentle care
Was not met with a dour glare.
I remember yesterday
When a guy could idly say
“What’s your number?” and not fear
Her screaming “rape” for all to hear.
So if you remember yesterday
In the aforementioned way
And know its loss would lead to sorrow
Let’s keep the past in mind tomorrow.
Filed under Poems
Forgettable Anecdotes Are Born Of These
For everything there is a first:
First kiss, first game, first beer.
For everything there is a last
But we don’t celebrate those here.
For everything there are middles
Unless first and last are the same,
But we tend not to notice these
‘Cause they all seem just the same.
So I challenge you today to share
Your one-thousand-second baseball game,
Your six-hundred and eighth bus ride,
The fourteenth passing of a flame.
You never know how special
The present will someday get.
Besides, people tweet food pics
So you’re still less boring than the net.
Filed under Poems
But The Microwave Is Silver…
The pot called the kettle black.
The kettle thought the pot was a racist kind,
But then kettle saw that the pot was black too
And, quoth the kettle, nevermind.
Filed under Poems
Impression: Los Angeles
I stood out here once before
Seeking what could not be found
Head to toe in the neon cloak of midnight
Listening for the absence of a sound.
I saw humans crawl past empty sidewalks
Burning gas and paying fares
On the way to work that will empower them
To buy their surplus worries and cares.
They seek comfort in a glasses, pills, and needles,
Pray for hope through a politician’s lies.
Paychecks promise them the satisfaction
Of being happy in someone else’s eyes.
Red-eye pilots flee this urban heaven
Carrying those with sense enough to flee.
I just read my scripts and idly wonder
What it’s like to see a real tree.
Filed under Poems
