Life is an event
That happens to us all.
Some lives end in greatness
While others are extras
In a George Lucas story.
As for me…
I’m a rebel poet,
The greatest George Lucas extra
Who ever got too tired to rhyme.
You only get one life to take for granted;
Don’t waste the opportunity.
Filed under Poems
When my Mom was younger
She worked on the railroad
All the live-long days.
She was filled with a hunger
To escape from the railroad
And find a guy with whom to pass the days.
She hung up her axe and hammer
For an erlenmeyer flask
And took a job for Carly Fiorina.
My Dad she did enamor
And had the guts to ask
“Do you want to see a show at the arena?”
They got married in the Summer
And moved out to Colorado
And brought my future sister to the world.
Three very-good years later
A doctor in Colorado
Said “you’ve got another kid in you. A girl.”
And so you dreamt of Molly
But months later Dave arrived
And his presence made your life complete.
When I think about it, golly!
Now your life story’s archived
And only for sake of rhymes did I once (or twice…) cheat.
Filed under Poems
In a bloody mass of who-knows-what
A tiny terror meets the world
The doctor slaps it on the butt
Then gives it to you, warm and curled.
Ten years later it has grown fangs
A whirling aura of disease,
It looks so cute behind its bangs,
But that hair is full of lice and fleas.
It makes a noise that never stops,
A high pitched whine, a piercing cry.
Alas, it seems to call you “pops”
So you cannot wish that it will die.
Someday it will become a beast
That eats your food and drives your car.
All your boundaries will be pushed
Until it knows its gone too far.
And then it leaves, all big and grown
Perhaps to university.
You wonder how the time has flown
Until it moves back in with a degree.
After a while it gets a job,
You get gray hair and shrink a bit,
And then you die and people sob
And people bury you and shit.
Your lives are done, your beast is weaned,
You’ve given all the vital talks.
Now from the grave you proudly beam
And watch the dryer eat its socks.
Filed under Poems
Life is like this little guy,
At first cute and fluffy and shy.
It’ll sit on your lap,
Happy purring, then SNAP!
And that’s why I wear this glass eye…
“Mimi” – AKA “Snake”
Filed under Poems
Life is like a game
Of charades
In which people can talk
And watch parades
And have to make money
Or they’ll starve to death
And nobody actually cares
What people are trying to communicate,
Kind of like life.
Steve the fish lived in a dish
(A bowl, to be precise).
He shared his private windowsill
With two ex-lab mice.
When the mice stopped eating cheese,
Steve was not perturbed.
When they sprouted fangs and wings
He still was not disturbed.
And when the ex-lab mice escaped
To terrorize the Earth
Steve swam in circles happily
And reminisced about his birth.
And when the Earth went up in flames
And did finally dissappear,
Steve the fish was satisfied
With his one long, happy year.
Filed under Poems
If I were a mayfly
With but one day to live
I’d spend my only hours
Looking for ways to give,
And what better gift
Is there for a bunch of bugs
But a lifetime supply of happiness
In the form of chocolate Hugs.
I would build a factory
A milimeter high.
I’d hire and train the larvae
To work until they die.
I’d create a one-fly empire
To bring joy to me and you,
Only to have it crushed
By some human’s canoe.
So next time you are boating,
Running, swimming, or taking a hike
Think about the little guys
Before doing as you like,
‘Cause maybe the cure for cancer
Or diseases of another kind
Are hidden in the ephemeral
Ambitious mayfly’s mind.
If I were a Mayfly
I’d be the best fly I could be.
But alas, I’m not a fly,
So let’s go watch TV.
Filed under Poems
I swam with silver dolphins
Under a shining diamond sky,
And I learned the meaning of everything
As each one passed me by.
I learned of joy and jealousy,
Serenity and rage.
I learned the truth of freedom
And of living in a cage.
I went swimming with dolphins
And learned what life’s about.
Then I smiled as the staff
Of Sea World saw me out.
Filed under Poems
Living as a bumblebee
Is really very lame.
Your life is run by mind control
And every day’s the same.
Our homes are much too sticky
And attract too many bears.
Yellow and black are so last Spring
But no one ever cares.
It’s hard to have an argument
When your sole source of defense
Creates discomfort in your enemy
And kills you in recompense.
And so we drone and buzz and fly
And polenate a bagonia,
Humming “Fields of Gold” by Sting,
Hoping the queen does not disown ya.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 