Part of making art
Is having sincere belief
That your crap is gold.
Tag Archives: Poetry
When You Have To Do More Than One Creative Thing In A Day
There once was a D&D game
Hosted by this poet, the same.
It ended quite late
With most epic of fates
But as consequence this poem is lame.
Filed under Poems
Patty > Bun, etc.
Pizza’s pretty yummy
And hot dogs taste real nice
But I can do without the carbs
And even sans the spice.
Instead of all that bready stuff
What I really want to eat
Is meat covered in melted cheese
Then covered in even more meat!
Filed under Poems
After I Die, This Blog Will Be Considered The Highest Of Art
I watched “Everything Everywhere All At Once”
And all I can think about now
Is that a movie that makes less sense than my poems
Won seven Oscars somehow…
Filed under Poems
If You Have Nothing To Write A Poem About, Write It Anyway Because You Made A Stupid Promise To Post One Every Day And You Ain’t No Quitter
If I could name a river after myself
I think I’d call it “David River”
‘Cause that’s a limitation
Of the whole “name-it-after-yourself” deal.
If I could name a city after myself
I can probably guess your IQ
By what you thought the answer would be.
It would be New David River City
Because duh.
Filed under Poems
On The Bright Side, My Nickname Is “Hips” Now
Sometimes all it takes
To make somebody’s day
Is to flash a cheerful smile
And whisper “Hip hip hooray!”
I tried it out this afternoon
And the data that I got was this:
Prison is not a good place to test
A cheerfulness hypothesis.
Filed under Poems
Or Am I Just Forgetful?
Today it is early.
Last night it was late.
Does my lack of a poem
Mean I had a good date?
Filed under Poems
I Put The “P” In Poem
Perhaps if people possessing purple percherons
Prepared their persons patiently
Purple percherons put in purses
Would prudently pursue purer pursuits?
Filed under Poems
Night In The Woods: An Analysis Of The Forest and Tree-Heavy Areas After Sunset When Natural Lighting Is Limited To That Of The Moon In The Woods
Dark shadows in the black night
As four-legged quadrupeds scurry,
Moving left and right in both directions
Quickly, as if in a hurry.
The leaves from the plants crinkle noisily
With the sound of an audible pop:
This eternal song goes on forever
And probably will never stop.
Filed under Poems
Afternoon People Are Fine Though
As you read this poem
You may look upon your clock
And see either the morning’s tic
Or else the evening’s tock.
I have advice to share with you
Be it the eve or morning;
First for my evening readers, I
Do share this somber warning:
For those whose work and leisure lasts
‘Til late at night like me
You run the risk of starting a blog
Of petty poetry.
But for the morning readers
Perhaps you’ll ponder thus:
How have you time to read crap
Writ by evening folk like us?
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 