When I grow up
I’ll be famous and rich,
Just like the writer
Of “Lilo and Stitch.”
I’ll be a performer
Or some type of magnate.
I’ll be a leader, a champion…
It’ll be great!
Growing up’s so exciting
I’m just ready to burst!
On the other hand, maybe
I’ll grow sideways a bit first…
Filed under Poems
When I moved into
The mobile home park
I thought my life
Was turning dark,
But I found pleasure
As I sought paying labors
In the form of melo-
Dramatic neighbors.
If you say “hello”
They say “Hail traveler!”
You say “I like Charizard,”
And they say “I love Graveler!”
It’s like they’re in a movie,
So although my life’s a failure
I take solace in the fact
They’re a theatrical trailer.
Filed under Poems
I worked all week,
I sweated and toiled,
I broke my back,
My plans were foiled,
My heart was shattered,
My brain turned to goo
So that, Dearest Saturday,
I could make it to you.
I slaved and I slobbered.
My displeasures grew
As I sat through lectures
I already knew,
I held off angry clients,
Protected my pen
So that we, Dearest Saturday,
Could be one once again.
Metaphorical dragons
Have fallen before me,
Slain so I could assure
That you would not deplore me,
And although I am thankful
To not be deplored
Why is it, Dearest Saturday,
That I’m this freakin’ bored?
Filed under Poems
Fourty percent happy boredom,
Thirty percent sleep
Five percent is stuff
Which, for this blog, is too deep,
Ten percent is glorious joy,
Nine percent is shame,
Five percent is wanting donuts,
One percent is “crap, what was that guy’s name?”
Filed under Poems
If life were like a video game
I think it quickly would get lame
‘Cause everyone would act the same
And people would compete for fame
And money and stuff you’d seek to claim
And maybe you’d love a token dame.
Your repeated failures might cause shame
And you’d be worthy of others’s blame.
You’ll find comfort in a pet to tame
And maybe give it a funny name
Like Blooper, Tweazle, Grumps, or Zame…
Holy crap! Life’s just like a video game!
Filed under Poems
Socializing’s when you find
People you dislike the least
And gather anxiously
To waste money on a feast
While imbibing neurotoxins
To make the evening fun
Then compete to talk the most
Until you all agree “we’re done.”
Filed under Poems
The sound of screaming guitars
And the smell of burning tires
A flash of purple lightning
And your flavor on my lips,
A lightness in my beating heart
Merges with everburning fires
As my vision fades to black
And I see my life is a commercial for chips.
I heard that when uncertainty
About your future strikes
Examining what you avoid
Can lead you to your likes.
I tend to avoid everything
And like lying in bed
Writing jokes about the stuff
That’s running through my head.
I tend to avoid washing things,
Dishes and self included,
And consequently feel good
When I eat (get watered and fooded).
I like to be alone a lot.
I like the color orange.
I dislike thinking ahead
Which sometimes makes life hardyorange.
And so I have concluded
From my lifestyle and refinement
That I should pursue a career
In solitary confinement.
So if someone were so kind
As to frame me for a murder
I’d be grateful for all my life
And happy with my life’s direction-urder.
Filed under Poems
I may not be Annie Oakley
But you’ve never seen a fellow
Hit the broad side of a barn
Like I can do!
I may not be a doctor
But when a friend turns yellow
No one can say “there there”
Like I’ve learned to!
I’m not a jack of any trade.
Perhaps that’s why I’ve got it made.
I’m a wizard who can’t even cast a spell!
But that stuff is overrated,
Sloth underappreciated.
Yes, being mediocre’s pretty swell!
I haven’t learned a trade,
Nor the sciences or arts,
But I can sit around
Like no one’s business!
And when you see me doing
Nothing that requires smarts, you’ll ask
The fellow next to you
“Who on earth is this?”
I’m a man with no profession,
Absent when class is in session
Because I’m born unable to work well.
But that won’t dampen my mood
‘Cause my life’s still pretty good.
Yes, being mediocre’s pretty swell!
So if you’re not a Grant or Lincoln
There’s no need for you to feel
As though your greatest dreams
Will not come true!
Your dream of happy lounging’s
Achievable through clever scroungings
And if I can do it, surely
So can you!
I’m no poet but I rhyme!
You’ve a quarter, I’ve a dime!
I’ve no fear at all of being damned to Hell
‘Cause they’ll never let me in.
If you do nothing, you can’t sin.
Posthumous mediocrity is swell!
Yes being mediocre’s pretty swell!
The Daily Travesty 