Tag Archives: Long

Suffice To Say The Narrator Is Not A Philanthropist, AKA Can I Get This On A T-Shirt Please?

Like a church without a steeple,

A Costco that’s not full of people,

A girl who doesn’t like a bunny

Or a kid who thinks fart jokes aren’t funny,

Like a bracelet without a clasp,

A crossword puzzle without the word “asp,”

Like warm fresh bread without the yeast

Or cannibals who never feast,

Like raindrops falling with the snow

Or a hallmark card by Edgar Alan Poe,

Like a duck that only sinks

Or someone driving behind you that thinks,

Like a straight man enjoying “Magic Mike,”

Someone else’s chihuahua that people like,

A University that welcomes drop-ins,

Or “Liam Neeson stars as Mary Poppins.”

These are things that don’t exist,

That can’t be seen and won’t be missed.

They are like what you’ll become

If you ask me for money, Mr. Bum.

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The True Stories Are The Best, And The Best Deserve Many Likes And Comments

A spin across the border

Up to Canada I go

But as the guards interrogate

My engine starts to slow.

A bit of coaxing later

There’s a spitter-sputter-spop!

And off I go, yet unaware

I won’t make it to my stop.

I travel down the highways

91 and 99

Going Northward to Vancouver

And my truck’s still going fine.

I pull into a left turn lane

And my heart can only drop

‘Cause the green arrow says “go”

And my engine says “nah, stop.”

And so I try a jump start

To no avail, I hate to say.

911 responds and sends

A friendly tow truck on its way.

The nicest driver ever

Hooks up chains and ropes and all

And we drive back to America

Truck as f***ed up as Darth Maul.

Now a tow truck is a large machine

That can’t turn on a dime

And the driver drops me kindly

At the border crossing line.

I wait and wait and wait and wait

Until the light turns green

And thus begins the uphill push

Of my alternator-less machine.

I push up to the crossing

Halfway out and halfway in

$270 Canadian poorer

But back where I said “begin.”

So for a second tow I wait

Watching hour hands tick by.

If this poem’s unusually thoughtful, well

You know the reason why.

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A Likely Story

Venus shone in the Eastern sky
Where Captain Terry liked to fly.
He looped some loops in his F-16
‘Round where the planet could be seen.

The daring pilot’s heart alight,
He dreamed of love throughout his flight,
For due West his love, elated,
For her pilot had awaited.

But as he spun beneath the sun
One of his engines said “I’m done,”
And so the pilot returned West
At a pace much quicker than was best.

His lover from the hangar did stare.
Of the Captain’s plight she was unaware.
His awesome dive did make her swoon.
“Come home Terry. Come home soon.”

And now his second engine blew
From the strain of working enough for two.
And so one thousand stories high
Captain Terry ceased to fly.

He plummeted like public approval
After a popular thing’s removal,
And with Venus as his guiding light
He ejected his seat into the night.

This almost-dying was new to Terry.
Was he nervous? Oh yes! Very!
He reached for his parachute’s rip cord,
Yet found it missing. Oh my lord!

Now this is where the tale gets strange,
For the average seagull’s visual range
Is but a mile during nights like these.
(I made that up, don’t cite me please).

Perhaps it was his lover’s prayer
As his plane dropped suddenly from the air,
But a flock of gulls was happening by
As Terry fell out of the sky.

“Help me seagulls!” Said Captain T
(Not thinking straight as you can see).
One of the seagulls gave some fuss.
“If we help, what’s in it for us?”

Terry’s mind was numb with shock
As he hurtled past the selfish flock.
He offered them insurance. Alas no luck,
For they were friends already with the Aflac duck.

He offered them his pilot’s suit,
Which he assured them would look cute
On the seagull leader’s feathery bod.
The leader smiled and gave a nod,

And with that nod, the seagulls pooped
A nonstop rain of avian soup.
It fell harder than rain or snow
Which filled a gully miles below.

And so the seagulls stripped Terry bare
And flew off laughing through the air
As Terry landed in the lake
The seagulls had been kind enough to make.

Terry had survived his fall
And, save his pride, wasn’t hurt at all.
He walked back towards the hangar where
His love still waited, unaware.

He sauntered up, all naked and crappy
To the gate at airbase Neil-McNappy,
Where he was denied reentry
Because he lacked I.D, so said the sentry.

If you hadn’t guessed, you see,
Captain Terry is really me.
So now you’ve heard my tale of woe
Can you spare some change?
Huh? Where’d you go?

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