Any time I write a poem with a lotta letters
I get a temptation that of me can get the better:
You may have to read twice or the joke you will not get her…
Heeeeeey Macarena!
Tag Archives: Postaday
To Serve and Protect…
Women live longer
Than men, this is true,
But how many women
Say “I’d die for you”?
Men on the other hand
Say it a lot,
So men must die younger
‘Cause women are hot.
Filed under Poems
The New Normal
Conforming is courage.
Sameness is unique.
Silence is violence
So we all must speak,
But if you speak other
Than what we agree
The only conclusion
Is patriarchy!
Everyone’s special
Except for the whites
And all men, plus women
Who want to have rights.
Such people are dangers
To our peaceful views
Unless they are silenced
By endless bad news.
“The truth” is old-fashioned.
“Your truth” will prevail.
If there are no winners
Then no one can fail!
So dye your hair purple
And get your tattoos
And be one of us rebels
Who share the same views.
Filed under Poems
Know Your Place
Whether we walk by the mountains or sea
We consider ourselves on the ground,
But the birds and the fish far below disagree
And render the notion unsound.
The birds up above sing to each other
Of how humans choose not to fly,
Enjoying the feeling that comes from remaining
Always at the bottom of “sky.”
The fish and the whales and coral and seals
Think of our waterless place
As one way a heaven, in other ways hell,
Just as we humans must think of space.
We are at the apex, we are at the bottom,
All trapped by the pull of a star.
To some we are Gods, to others we’re vermin
And I’m just content that we are.
Filed under Poems
Being An “Us” With No “Them”
When was the last time a stranger
Whispered something in your ear,
Whether something that was naughty
Or perhaps a secret fear,
Saying something so important
That they risked becoming near
To share with you a datum
Only you were fit to hear?
If you’ve never given quiet
I think you ought to try it.
Filed under Poems
The Worst Speech In The History Of Speeches, Maybe Ever
Roses are red.
Biden is tired.
The guy who holds his “applause” sign
Apparently got fired.
Filed under Poems
Live and Learn
When I was five years old I thought
That I was pretty strong
Until I tried to lift my dad
And found out I was wrong.
When I was fifteen I figured
That I was pretty suave
Until I learned that suave’s a word
That doesn’t rhyme with “shave.”
When I was twenty five I thought
That I was pretty smart
Until I turned my car key
And the engine didn’t start.
And I suspect at thirty five
And forty five and older
The things I saw in my mind’s eye
I’ll see as a beholder.
I just hope at ninety
Or whenever death will dial
I’ll remember all the times I erred
Then look ahead and smile.
Filed under Poems
After Colonoscopy Comes Horoscopy
The nurse said “I’m Aquarius!”
The lab tech said “I’m Virgo!”
I said “I’m a Cancer!”
The doctor said “I know.”
Filed under Poems
Coping
I’m reading a book recommended to me
By a woman whom I once adored.
I’m reading, avoiding inviting the world
For the world leaves me feeling ignored.
I make friends with a spider I’m terrified of
Who lives on my white bedroom wall;
I know he deserves life as much as I do
Even though he is creepy and small.
I’m wearing soft clothing, lying and waiting
And writing a poem in bed,
Remembering over and over forever
The words that I felt and I said.
I’m hearing the lawnmower, water through pipes,
The cars on the road passing by
Destined to be somewhere other than here
And I can’t help my wondering why.
Why is the grass not allowed to be growing?
Why must the spider bring fear?
Why do the people drive quickly to elsewhere
When they know they will end up back here?
Why do I care for an author’s opinion?
Why can’t I love people less?
All I can do is get up and keep smiling
And be me: a beautiful mess.
Filed under Poems
Oooh Yeah… Daddy Sauron Is Goblin Me Up…
I some some little known facts
About some popular things,
Like how in the very first draft
Of Tolkien’s “The Lord of the Rings”
Mount Doom was not a volcano
But instead a magnificent gorge
In which Sauron demanded
His orcs run a magical forge.
Luckily, one clever editor
Got to give his final say:
“I think the ‘quest to Orc-Chasm‘
“Could be said in a most awkward way.”
Filed under Poems
