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
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
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.
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
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 vague sentence
Full of supercilious words
Spread out asymmetrically
Over multiple
Lines,
Rhyming
Optional.
Filed under Poems
If we elected God himself
To lead the USA
Half of us would disapprove
Because he’s anti-gay.
Another half would criticize
The way his job was done
And make memes calling him socialist:
“Loaves and fishes for everyone!”
His “love your neighbor” policy
Would, by nationalists, be despised.
We’d call him dumb to design an ark
That’s unfeasibly sized.
We’d cry out “Egomaniac”
Because he asks for praise.
We’d complain that since he made time
The weekend should last four days.
Mary’d call him a rapist
After carrying his son
And some would say the Russians
Are the reason that he won.
They’d break the third commandment
Every day within the news
And people would complain
Because he panders to the Jews.
If we made God the president
He’d be called an old white shill,
But for sure his graven image
Would never grace a dollar bill.
Filed under Poems
I met an Indian guy on Tinder,
A philosopher named Deepinder.
I couldn’t understand most of what he said
So he said “Date my brother Shallowinder instead.”
Filed under Poems
If you look I think you’ll find
That women are mean to their own kind:
They’ll criticize you if you’re pretty.
They’ll be mean if you look shitty.
They’ll tease you if they can’t see your butt
But if they can then you’re a slut.
They’ll mock you if you’ve got one pal, though
If you are popular they’ll call you shallow.
They’ll fill your life with only hate
But I’m a man. How ’bout a date?
Filed under Poems
Our childish dreams are warm
Beneath the blanket of unknowing,
Our sensibilities secure
All thanks to lack of growing.
Dulcet and desultory,
With ease we are besot,
Avoiding the obstreperous
And things requiring thought.
We swim in tranquil waters
As our bones turn into lard.
Our brains become decrepit
As we hide from all that’s hard.
The deities of comfort
Sanctify our mindless chatter,
A lullaby to help forget
Our lives don’t really matter.
When hunger or reality
Force us, languid, to act
We choose harmony of feelings
Over cacophony of fact,
And thus have we who worship
Our mirror’s charming sheen
Learned to pray for ignorance
So that we may die serene.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 