I wanted to write something witty
About coaxing cans of Coke
Somehow involving slang cocaine
But then my noggin broke.
Now I’m writing a poem
About how my dreams aren’t coming true.
Sounds like 2017
To me. How ’bout to you?
Tag Archives: Life
Dating A 30-Year-Old
You ask will I love you
When you’re not a young lass,
When your hair’s gray and saggy
And so is your ass,
When the passion is gone
And the money is thin
And everything hurts
‘Neath our wrinkly skin.
Our hands come together
And I look straight at you.
“Of course I will darling!
“I already do.”
Filed under Poems
An Anthem For Literally Everywhere
My country is beautiful
Full of water, land, and sky,
Led by sociopathic imbeciles
Who claim to give a shit for you and I.
My country’s beautiful,
A land of both of friendship and romance;
A land whose population is primarily
The offspring of those who can’t keep it in their pants.
My country is exceptional in one way
And mostly mediocre in the rest
And although I cannot cite a reason
I’m thoroughly convinced it is the best!
So once again we praise this lovely nation
Via trite and yet inspiring bits of song
Imposed upon us by slave-driving overlords
(Who, by the way, are never, ever wrong).
A Better Deal Than Gas Station Sushi!
Imagine for a moment a world in which the typical person lives about sixteen years before being enslaved by corporate overlords and enduring fifty years of ever-increasing toil simply to stay alive.
In this world there is an individual who has escaped the never-ending cycle of despair, and each day he renews the hope of a few hundred people via moments of free, digitally-published, frequently-rhyming silliness. He is a beacon of cynical optimism, a daily reminder that you don’t have to be perfect (or even reasonably good) to make a difference.
Would you be willing to give 6-12 seconds of your wages to keep the beacon of hope alive?
OF COURSE YOU WOULD!
Well, I have a confession: The in-no-way-a-metaphor-for-this-writer protagonist in the suspiciously-similar-to-real-life fantasy world is actually me! (M. Night Shyamalan, feel free to use this as inspiration for your next film’s inevitable plot twist).
I’ve been thinking about monetizing this blog for a while. I hate ads, and I will never willingly force you to suffer through ads to access this content. Instead of that, I want to give you the chance to financially support me as much or as little as you want via Patreon.
For those of you unfamiliar with Patreon, it’s a membership platform that makes it easy for creators of great stuff to get paid, and gives you (the patrons) some fantastic rewards for your generosity.
This blog has just shy of 900 followers as I write this. If each of you contributed fifty cents a month (less than two cents a day), it would pay my rent for the month. If each of you gave one dollar a month it would almost double my annual income (actually true). [Yes ladies, I’m single]. So if you’re willing to help keep the light of silliness alive in an increasingly dystopian society of “those other guys” for less than the cost of gas station sushi (financially and otherwise), please consider supporting me via Patreon when it launches on September 24th.
Humanity thanks you, as do I.
Filed under To the Reader
The Quest For Common Sense (And A Wonderful Resource For Those Who Fail It)
I tell this tale and sing this song;
‘Tis neither short nor over long.
It is the tale of whom I met
When towards the darkness off I set.
I ventured to a fright’ning spot,
All at one both cold and hot,
And in its center stood the tree
Of personal responsibility.
And beneath that mighty central birch
I met a figure on its perch,
A lovely human, clean and bright
Yet I stood only half its height.
It spoke to me with radiant voice:
“To you I grant this single choice:
“To leave my grove, still safe and dense
“Or to eat the fruit of common sense.”
I looked again at the dreadful tree
From which grew apples, light and free
And with the hymns of wisdom fair
Filled joyfully the grove’s clean air.
And then I looked beyond the wood
To whence I came. Alas, still stood
Where man and beast were much the same,
Obsessed with power, sex, and fame.
To the glorious figure I did ask
What treachery hid within my task,
What fear and pain accompanied
The fruit of logic and its seed.
“No pain at all,” the figure said
Extending apples, smooth and red.
I knew not what was wrong nor right
But I grabbed the fruit and took a bite.
No longer was the forest bleak.
I couldn’t hide. I needn’t speak.
Where once the darkness clutched my heart
I only saw the world’s true art.
Where once I begged, now I produced.
Where once I guessed, now I deduced.
Where once had stood the figure bright
Now stood a mirror to my sight.
And yet the place from which I came
Sat glumly, still the very same.
I stood in brightness, stared at black,
And knew I never would go back.
So if you wander, wondering
Why you’re not pleased with your new thing,
Why your whole life seems second best
I summon you to join my quest,
To seek out forests rank with fear,
And from them soon there will appear
The brighter, lighter, clearer you
That knows and does what’s right and true,
Who looks at worlds of smog and spite,
Yet does his best and smiles despite.
Eat the fruit and so commence
Your brand new life with common sense!
But if back home you would return,
If common sense you seek to spurn,
If you treat dumbness with aplomb
You’ll find your kin at Facebook.com
Filed under Poems
At The Butcher
Everybody’s yelling
About Nazis, hate, and Trump
And I’m just giggling to myself
‘Cause somebody said “rump.”
Filed under Poems
Downside? Nazi Riots. Upside? Easy Day For Bad Poetry.
Everyday I seek to write
A really lousy poem
Where life is hard and then the good guys lose,
But today I can be lazy
And write this poem instead
‘Cause my narrative is just Virginia’s news.
Filed under Poems
Dear Internet: Why The Exception?
You can’t mock someone ’cause they’re fat,
Ugly, stupid, stuff like that.
You can’t make jokes about a race
(At least not to somebody’s face).
You can’t gay-bash, slut-shame, or mock
The way one laughs or thinks or talks.
But you can defame or spew hate at
Those with neckbeards or a fedora hat.
Filed under Poems
Zero Weddings, A Funeral, And A Reasonable Question
This evening we sit
In memory of
A weekend that
We came to love.
‘Twas two days long,
Five days too short.
Why’s there no satisfying
Single player sport?
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 