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.”
Tag Archives: Life
What A Ruffled Life He Lays
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.
Follow Your Heart
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
Being Mediocre
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!
Life
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
A 93% Accurate History Of My Mom
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
After The Birth
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
Other People’s Cats
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…
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.
