There once was a popular band
Whose singer was pretty but bland.
The sales started to fall
Until for one and all
She showed off a mammary gland.
Tag Archives: Music
And Who’s This Floyd Guy Anyway?
We could talk about the ego,
Super-ego, or the id
But I don’t think that does justice
To the amazing things Freud did.
Anyone can acknowledge
That people’s brains are weird,
Have a couch to lie on,
Or grow a snazzy beard,
But how many psychiatrists
Can also play guitar
Like Dr. Sigmund “Pink” Freud did?
That guy was quite a star!
Filed under Poems
Aria for Happy Fools and Background Noise
Our lives are like a song
In a language we don’t know.
Our feet tap to the beat of the world
When we feel that special flow.
It starts out as a whisper
And builds into the cry
Of a baby with the will to sing
But no knowledge how or why.
It may turn many corners.
It changes every verse.
The song always gets better
Even if it may sound worse.
Some songs will stop too suddenly
And some go on too long.
Since we don’t know what we’re singing
Why care if something’s wrong?
You can sing however’s comfortable.
When all is said and sung
I hope I’m singing nonsense
‘Til I get my iron lung!
We Won’t Even Go Into The “Mom’s A Virgin” Thing
One of the beloved songs
Is titled “Silent Night,”
Of story of a night where all
Is calm and all is bright.
With the writer of the song
I want to have a chat.
A silent night where all is bright?
What kind of night is that?
Filed under Poems
I Need To Change My Pre-Writing Playlist!
I wrote a poem about breaking up
Though I’m happily single.
I wrote a poem about parties
Though I seldom even mingle.
I wrote one about prison
Though I’m offended by “darn.”
I write one about dead soldiers
Though I’m home, both safe and warm.
Each one I halfway finished
Then deleted with a click
Because my life is so darn easy
I’d come off looking like a dick.
Sorry for the language.
I guess I got unhinged.
No more poetry for me
After a punk-rock Youtube binge!
Filed under Poems
Night Shift (Every Walmart Ever)
Sleepwalking,
Night stalking…
Insomnia is killing me.
Dead of night,
I feel no fright.
Just a few more hours ’til I’m free.
With empty hearts
And bulging carts
They leave my shelves so very bare.
Their hands are deep
In all that’s cheap.
At these poor beasts I stare.
All these hours
Living in a haze
Just a few more days
On the night shift.
I waste my life
Repeating strife,
Putting boxes back on the shelves.
My peers and I
Just want to cry,
Go home and be all by ourselves.
I ain’t got paid,
But I’ve quit and stayed.
Oh! How that paycheck calls…
I say I’ll walk,
But it’s all talk.
I haven’t got the balls.
All these hours
Hoping its a phase.
Counting down the days
On the night shift.
Then in an instant
I hear the TV:
“Todays winning numbers are
“7, 6, 5, 4, 3.”
Thirty-eight million dollars
Are mine! All mine! Then…
My boss yells “you’re fired
“If you doze off again.”
All these hours
And finally an excuse…
No need for such abuse…
Time to take another snooze…
On the night shift.
“Santiago Must Die”
They said I could do anything
If I put my heart into it
But after 17 years in a mariachi metal band
A part of me says “screw it.”
Filed under Poems
The Agonies And TheEcstasies Of Being An Extremely Niche Web Celebrity
Nickelback called me
To let me know
They wrote a song
Inspired by my life.
Part of me feels
Honored by their intention,
But I’ll never listen to the song
Which should save me some strife.
Filed under Poems
Children’s Music
For those of you who do not know
I have a sparse financial pool,
And so to make some extra bucks
I teach chess at the local school.
Now, names are hard to memorize
So sometimes we play games
To have fun, but mostly to
Help master all the names.
One such game is but a song,
Wherein the person pitched
Is sung to in a pattern
In which some letters get switched:
“Jamie jamie bo bamie,
“Bannana-fanna fo famie,
Me, my, mo mamie,
“Jamie.”
Yes, it is a silly game
But it does its job.
The problem is that you don’t want
To make the children sob
So every single child
Gets their own letter-swapping chorus
To help us learn their names
Before they play chess and ignore us.
In the old days all the Jamies,
Davids, Duncans, Kyles, and Joes
Could sing this song as easily
As “Head, shoulders, knees and toes.”
But now all the La’shamquas,
Chimeras, Flexktons, and Ka’drames
Don’t work as well with this song
(And the Aidan/Caden/Jaydensall sound the same).
Still the worst name ever
That I’ve applied this method too
Was a little boy named Tucker
Who didn’t want to go boo-hoo
So a class of twenty children
Sang “bannana-fanna fo…”
Then sang the next line to the principal
Who then told me I had to go.
So that’s why I am hustling
With my chess board in the park.
Sometimes you end up a hero.
Sometimes Tucker makes you a shark.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 