Tag Archives: poems

Waxing Philosophical (Hume’r Wasn’t In Descartes)

I think that great philosophers

Who from the old days came

Were the ones who didn’t laugh

At each others’ stupid names.

Think of how the commons laughed

And asked Ptolemy why

They had to spell his name

Starting with a silent pi.

Think of how these silly names

Through laughter would disable those

Who sought to set their Platos

And forkos on the tableos.

Think of poor Epictetus

The flat-chested stoic

And poor Heraclitus

Whose parents misspelled “heroic.”

I hope there’ve Bentham fun times

Locke’d within this rant.

Some days I’m very Thoreau

But today I said “I Kant.”

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Why The French Make Good High-Rollers

You may look real classy

In your souped-up chassis

And yet prove to be asses

When you read “chassis” as chasses.

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Please Objectify Me!

I think that in a former life

I was a block of wood

Because I like to do nothing

While smelling sort of good,

I’d be hurt if hit by a chainsaw

And I’m warm when set on fire.

My dream is to one day be famous

So next life I’ll be a Goodyear tire

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Not Racist, Just Comfy

I find it funny that those who fought

For an inclusive ideology

Now think that those with “normal” thoughts

Owe outsiders apologies,

That those who culturally kill their kind

Are morally superior

To those who really do not mind

If you’re black, a chick, or queerier,

That while we wear our pale skin

And external genitalia

If we don’t call these things a sin

Then somehow you think we failed ya.

But I’m content and keen to keep

My straight white male role.

My life I live, my crops I reap

In a neighborhood safe to stroll.

So if you wave your protest signs

They’ll not change how I see.

You will not find me cryin’

Because I know it’s fine to be me.

So please don’t give me an earful.

I’m happy being cheerful.

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Almost Zeus

Deep in a forest

In some ancient year

Lived the grandest buck ever,

The king of the deer.

His antlers were mountains.

Sun and moon were his eyes.

There was nothing more massive

Or nearly as wise.

He spoke only truths

And healed all ills.

His laughter was music.

His teardrops were hills.

This primeval buck

Made all that’s good, fair, and lush

But his name was “Pookums”

So you don’t hear of him much.

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Revenge

When you advocate

That slaves may chain tyrants,

That those who’re offended

May harm those who speak freely,

That hatred is evil

Unless evil you hate

Then forgive my cocked eyebrow

And my skeptical “really?”

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Is This Just Uninspired Trash Or Some Sort Of Super-Roundabout-Yomama Joke Or What?

Folks sometimes yell

“Jesus Christ!” When they’re mad,

But what did Mary shout

When Jesus was bad?

I do have a theory

And, yes, it is lame

But when Jesus was bad

Mary shouted my name.

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What Is Love? (Baby Don’t Hurt Me)

I inquired wherein

Lies the essence of love

As succinctly as I could

Whereupon my darling

Pummeled me

With a block of solid wood.

With a term of endearment

Once I begged

Then, without it, begged once more.

But while she had a way

I had only strength

To finish thus: No more!

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White Men…

Forty-thousand years ago

I was not yet born.

There was no clear cut logging,

Slow wi-fi or GMO corn.

The Federal Reserve

Had some cash they’d yet to spend

And there’d never been a war

Designed to have no end.

Alas, what we have now’s

Not what we had.

I guess that I should probably say

“My bad.”

A school shooting three times a year

Is worse than the crusades.

Sixty-eight cents on a man’s dollar

Is worse than not getting paid.

All the knowledge in the world

Is just a finger tap away,

But it can’t match the tribal elders

Saying “stone that guy. He’s gay.”

Despite the stained glass windows

God’s our middle-eastern dad,

So from this white guy to the world:

Oops, my bad.

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Le’eonardo De’avinci

Yo, ‘sup homie.

I got da shizzow:

It’s a portrait I did

Of dis half-smilin’ hoe.

It’s all kinda dark

In a beige kinda style

And I figga the critics

Gonna rave for a while.

I got some new model

But wut’s dat bitch’s name?

Moana? Le’isa?

Nothing worthy of fame.

They’ll ask why’d I paint it

And wonder howso.

Too bad I was trippin’

And forgot her brows yo!

#Wurd

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