People on the street
Waving Confederate flags
Say “You lost, move on.”
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Tag Archives: Postaday
Hidden In Plain Sight
I am the bird who built her nest
Beside the onramp to I5.
On the road mens’ eyes are glued
As they drive to their servitude.
Millions see me every day
But almost none will notice.
They lose the chance to look at me
Because they have somewhere to be.
I eat a bug and flap my wings
And smell fresh air and gasoline.
They think they need the Earth and Sky
And long for what they cannot buy.
They can fly to planets
I’ll never know exist,
Yet I don’t mind my being small.
I am the freest of them all.
Filed under Poems
False-Rape Culture
The marriage rate is going down
And many tears are falling.
The good men left and left behind
Some eyes bloodshot from bawling.
Men no longer mentor
Any women that they pay
Because they fear the power
Of what said women might say
And smart men will no longer talk
To strangers in a skirt
‘Cause they’re one false “j’accuse” away
From sleeping in the dirt.
Cats think that this circumstance
Is surely heavensent:
They live with 30-something women
Whose exes pay the rent.
Meanwhile the men rebuild themselves
From fighters into monks
And leave the chasing women
To the inner-city punks.
The West now walks on eggshells.
There is no doubt about it:
The feminists have made their beds
And now they lie about it.
Filed under Poems
Reason #4,231,277 I Love Texas
You can make a salad
Out of Jell-o or potatoes,
One with cheese and croutons
Or bacon, lettuce, and tomatoes.
And though you can make a salad
Out of nothing more than fruit, you
Chose to make a kale salad…
I have no choice but to shoot you.
All I Want For Christmas…
If you ever give me a puppy
I want you to name it “Trollop”
So I can shout “Trollop”
At the top of my lungs in the park
And not go to prison.
Filed under Poems
“The Lousy Microwave” (Because I Spent All My Time On The Poem Instead Of The Title Today)
I have a lousy microwave.
It’s very very slow.
It take about two minutes
To melt a ball of snow.
If you want to boil water
A half an hour should do
And if you ever cook some soup
Go watch a film or two.
Your vegetables will not be steamed.
Your corn will not be popped.
The minute that you start it
It has already stopped.
It’s starting to annoy me
And get under my skin
And now I’ll either throw it out
Or try to plug it in.
Filed under Poems
A Poem Is…
A vague sentence
Full of supercilious words
Spread out asymmetrically
Over multiple
Lines,
Rhyming
Optional.
Filed under Poems
