He strode into town,
A wayfaring stranger,
His haunting black eyes
An invitation to danger.
The gun on his belt
Had been recently shot.
“Seems like a bit
“Too much trouble,” I thought.
So as he turned left
And hitched up his horse
I turned to the right
And continued that course
‘Til I got to the city
And started to grin
Knowing that was a Western
I wouldn’t be in.
Filed under Poems
If the fact that night’s black
Somehow strikes you as racist,
If you’ve slacked off on the lotion
And your skin has a cray cyst,
If you drink green smoothies
And fly “coexist” kites
You may not have the blues
But you’ve sure got the whites.
When your three-year-old son
Tells you “Daddy, I’m gay”
And your instagram buddies
Say “Hashtag-OMG-yay!”
If you’re upset you don’t need
To fight for your rights
Then I’m sorry my friend
But you may have the whites.
If Samuel L. Jackson’s
Your “number one bro,”
You think its fine to say “moron”
But not to call someone “slow,”
If you think the dragon’s
Misunderstood by the knights
Then give your friends sunglasses
‘Cause you’ve got the whites.
But if you’ve got the whites
There’s no need to be sad.
It’s not your fault your existence
Makes everything bad.
One day we won’t judge people
Based on sex, race, or fat…
If only all the fat rich white males
Could understand that!
Bring thy swords and don thy mail.
Ensure your steed is fed.
We’ll ride before the morning
And may never go to bed.
Bestill the fear within your hearts
Though the menace so approacheth.
If thou disobey these things
Then thou we will reproacheth.
Our phalanx must stand in unity.
Our legion must conglomerate.
Your questioning, if it should show,
Brings nothing but drama ‘r hate.
We ride! We ride to battle!
To death and glorious war!
And it doesn’t help morale if you
Keep asking “but what for?”
Filed under Poems
Once there was an open sky,
Then the humans came on by.
They said “freedoms a pain in the ass,”
And thus were born kings and the ceiling of glass.
This order remained for centuries
Until the women said “ah jeez.”
They got mad and up they spoke
Until, at last, the ceiling broke.
Somewhere then along the line
When everything was going fine
The newly freed hankered for more
And so they made a new glass floor.
They made the men upon it stand
While together chicks did band
And told the men “call us lovely and dear
“And say we’re perfect, BUT BE SINCERE!”
And so the men did as they were tasked
And said the things the women asked,
But alas, that wasn’t good enough.
And so was born the third-wave stuff.
And now the men stand on a cracked glass floor.
One misstep and they’ll step no more.
This poem’s moral must be stressed:
Women are still the ones oppressed.
Well the Honky-Tonks in Portland
Are heaven’s gift to me.
They’ll pour you out a microbrew
Called “stop animal cruelty.”
The bartender’s named “Yoga Matt.”
The piano man plays celeste.
Well, no, it’s not quite Texas
But Portland-Tonk’s the best.
They’ll serve you soymilk eggnog
Or an extra strong chai tea.
You can get your whiskey straight
Or LGQBT.
You can dance all night to new classics,
Maybe find yourself a dame.
It might be a guy but you don’t mind
‘Cause they all dress the same.
You needn’t fear a gunfight
‘Cause they’re gun-free zones.
If someone micro-aggresses you
You just tweet it and go home.
So come next Friday evening
You can braid your hair and beard
And come on down to Portland.
They’re non-gender-specific kings of weird!
Filed under Poems
If you don’t want to hear
Someone say “him” or “her”
I’ll be okay
And I’ll probably say “sure.”
But why won’t you respect
My wishes when I
Ask to be referred to
As “thee most glorious and high?”
Filed under Poems
On the first day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
A holiday that lasted less than two months
That I didn’t have to hear or see.
Filed under Poems
Once in a while you pass something
That forever changes your life,
That frees you from discomfort
And gastronomic strife.
They come without much fanfare,
Just a single tiny toot,
And you don’t even mind
If the air they do pollute.
Every once in a while
You don’t know what to do
‘Til something in your gut
Will take the lead for you
And the winds that held you back
Now are broken. All is well.
All those who never knew you
Ask “who’s that?” And “what’s that smell?”
Did you ever know that you’re my hero,
The reason why my intestine sings?
All cheese I cut is for your glory!
You pass the wind beneath my wings.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 