Some of you may believe
That I wear my heart on my sleeve
As a matter of choice,
But don’t heed that voice.
There was a surgeon who’s since taken his leave…
Tag Archives: Postaday
An Only-Somewhat-Exaggerated Tale Of Today (Dedicated To Seth)
Today I drove a thousand miles
From WA to San Jose,
With a bunch of flaming morons
Tailgating me the whole way,
Weaving through the traffic
Like quilters yearning for death
All behind a mini cooper
Going 20 (License Plate: IMSETH).
As I recline, safe somehow,
On my Californian bed
A realization formed inside
My woeful weary head.
I-5 South, the freeway
A thousand miles through crazyville
Should better be renamed
The route of all evil.
Filed under Poems
Oh, Also My Fans, Whether Or Not They Give Me Money
Today we express gratitude
For all that we enjoy.
I’m grateful I can eat a lot
Of meat instead of soy,
That I’m allowed to shoot a turkey
But can buy one at a store,
And for fuzzy fleece blankets.
That’s what I’m thankful for!
Filed under Poems
I’m Off To The Wild West… California!
When I was a little bitty boy
So young it was okay to be strange
I wanted to be a cowboy
And ride the wide-open range.
My best friends would be a stallion,
My rifle, and my hat.
Needless to say as I grew up
My life diverged from that.
I play cards at the old saloon
When my work’s done for the week.
I drive a sleek black mustang
And I’m sometimes known to wreak.
I may sit behind a desk
Playing quick-draw with my phone
But I really just want to saddle up,
Ride off, and be alone.
A few things stand between me
And the life I’m meant to lead.
In the Chicago city limits
I can’t buy a proper steed.
I look quite like a bad boy
So the ladies are all smiles and purrs
But they never die at the end of the episode
And they object when I wear my spurs.
In my heart I am a cowboy.
I dress and talk like one
And, thanks to the permit office,
I can own my own six-gun.
It has to be locked up
Separately from the ammunition.
But tomorrow I’m moving West
To fulfill my grand ambition.
Filed under Poems
Am I Transgender?
When I was born, the doctor
Did declare I was a boy,
But as I’ve grown big and older
I recognized the ploy.
I want to live a simple life
And never go to work
Which means I want to be a woman
(Either that or I’m a jerk).
Filed under Poems
Hindsight Is 20/100
When I was ten
The world was bright.
The sun would wear a smile.
When I was twenty
The world was fun
And I ran a four-minute mile.
After I turned the thirty
The world was my oyster.
I was truly in the flow,
And now I’m ninety-eight years old
Being told “the memory’s first to go.”
Filed under Poems
The Silent Poet: This Is Why We Hibernate…
Amidst the misty morning,
Atop the naïve snow,
The thin white wind blew, chilly,
‘Neath sun’s unearthly glow.
The living glass of needles
Lay beneath the stalwart fir
And I, the bear, thought all this
But, alas, could only say “grr.”
Filed under Poems
The Terrible Luck Of Being Born Into Non-Dysfunctional Cultural Paradigms
Yesterday, on Facebook,
I saw an event
That a friend wanted to,
In the future, say they went.
It was a play by Young Jean Lee
Called “Straight White Men,”
And, somewhere in my soul
I thought “Lord, not again!”
So I read the description
Of this play, ’cause ’twas late.
It said “a comedy about the people
“Who we all love to hate.”
Now that was enlightening,
And since then I’ve learned
Racism’s when white men feel good
About all that they’ve earned.
So as a straight white man
Who lives in a place
Where the windows aren’t broken
And walls aren’t defaced,
Where all violent crimes
Are, in general, rare,
I learned that such luxuries
Just aren’t fair.
I learned that I’m “privileged,”
‘Cause my life doesn’t suck,
That I’m not a poor druggy
Quite simply by luck,
That my checking account
Still has money to spare
Not because of good choices
But because life’s not fair.
Straight white men are evil
For being ourselves.
We should donate our homes
To black people or elves.
Up ’til now I’ve lived honestly,
Tried to do what was right.
I see now that’s impossible
Because I am white!
Filed under Poems
Your Chance To Lose Money Is Finally Here! (Hi Clive)
You could put your money on the Cleveland Browns
For Super Bowl Any-time-in-the-future,
But that wouldn’t help anyone,
Let alone this poetic moocher.
Instead I’ve got a different way
To part ways with your cash
Which is by going to my Patreon
And putting it in my stash.
To those of you whose common sense
Says “but money is important”
And the thought of spending it seems, to you,
A little bit abhorrent
I’d point out that your cash will go
To helping me survive.
Nothing’s really better than supporting the arts
Except, perhaps, being named “Clive.”
But since my name is David
And your name’s probably not Clive either
Hop on over to Patreon
Like you’re an eager beaver.
If you don’t pay, the poems won’t stop;
You’ll still get these Travesties daily.
The only difference is, to get my food,
I won’t have to resort to a gladiatorial melee.
(Which is good because I’m skinny and bruise easily).
Filed under Poems
The Best Sense Is Nonsense
The neighbor’s chihuahua
Is barking next door.
The children threw up
On the living room floor.
A road crew’s jackhammer
Is going to work
And the top trending hashtags
Are #MeToo and #Twerk.
The wife is yelling
That the kids won’t be quiet.
The kids say “it’s Trump’s fault”
And he doesn’t deny it.
And in this glorious moment
That, to you, might seem stressful
I begin to know why
Helen Keller was so successful.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 