Tag Archives: Postaday

Nurture Your Nature

We build our lives to last

When no life ever will,

Polishing details

That only we can see.

We want to climb the ladder,

Be the king of every hill

While most things in the world

Will exist below the sea.

We bend and bleed and labor,

Flap our wings but seldom fly.

We might overcome our nature

But that is not my wish.

We could be a flying whale

But I have to wonder why

We would be unhappy whales

Instead of very happy fish.

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Flirting In Canada

I was a man

And she was not.

She hadn’t noticed me

But I thought she was hot.

I approached her politely

And told her “I’m Dan.”

She was, in hindsight, not pleased

So I got two years in the can.

I remember when men

Were not seen as a foe,

But not anymore

Thanks to Justin Trudeau.

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This Is Closer To Reality Than I’d Like (And Yes, Niche Does Rhyme With Itch)

Sometimes I wish I were an itch,

An itch that can’t be scratched

So I could bug the ugly thug

To whom you are attached.

Then when you were single

I would steal away your heart

And just like that eternal itch

We’d never be apart.

But eventually you’d hate me

And the scratching I’d inspire

And you’d dump me for some other jerk

Of whom you would soon tire

Then I would swoop back to you,

Your faithful little itch

And maybe this time you won’t dump me?

What do you mean my fetish is niche…

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Another Dream Accomplished!

My dream is not too grandiose;

It’s simply to be less verbose.

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Nice Guys Finish Last… It’s A Gift

All I want for Christmas

Is a lump of coal.

I hope I get one soon.

My only problem

Is I’m a good boy

And also that it’s June.

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Dear Cheese…

Though made to feed a bovine calf

We stole you from the mother,

Mixed you with bacteria

And rennet to feed another.

We formed this new more-yellow you

Into a wheel of cheese

To be sliced and melted freely

By whosoever it should please.

Your sacrifice is noted

And has brought the world much joy

And we’ll fight to keep you relevant

In a world obsessed with soy.

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The Flavor Of “Winning”

For a moment I sat there

With blood on my hands

Smearing life on my white-bread toast

In a room all alone

With inanimate friends

In a halfway house built for a ghost.

My Ferrari was mired

In a 90-hour week

When I needed just 12 to survive

But I’d long since stopped living

For the privilege of being

Among the elite few who can thrive.

The child in the basement

Was calling for daddy

‘Til its fat little throat had gone raw

And yet I was too busy

Helping others to join me

To notice my life had a flaw.

But if I’d payed attention,

Tasted a tomato

Or felt a moth land in my hair,

Just walked outside barefoot

Or put salt in my coffee

I’d realize somehow I still care.

I care about family.

I care about freedom.

I don’t need this bottle and pill.

And maybe that baby

Will say “taste the tomato”

And if I haven’t yet died then I will.

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