I’m just walking,
Nothing special going on,
When I realize suddenly
That you’re absent, gone.
My sudden epiphany
Hits me right in the spine,
So I said “watch out for the drop”
To the next guy in line.
Tag Archives: Postaday
The Consequences of Peace
My baggage is here.
I’m safe and happy
Which means once again
These poems will be short and crappy.
The War Goes On
They say they’ll write me,
Keep me up to date
As for my lost luggage
I anxiously wait.
But sometimes I’m weak
And I go online
To check out the status
Of that “delayed” bag of mine.
I type in my last name,
An eight digit code
And wait five painful seconds
For the website to load
Only to find
Its status unchanged.
It’s made a me a little
Completely deranged.
“Assign me a driver”
I woefully shriek,
But “findmysuitcase.com”
Doesn’t hear what I speak.
That’s how I’ve been living
For most of the day
Until United Airlines
Sends that suitcase my way.
Filed under Poems
Zero
Zero is the number
Of hours I slept
Before a 2:00 AM shuttle
To the airport today.
Zero is the number
Of friendly cute girls
In the security line
That I met on the way.
Zero is the number
Of lightning storms I missed
Flying into Houston
A half hour late
Zero is the number
Of minutes I had
To get from my landing
To my connecting flight’s gate.
Zero is the number
Of on-time flights departing
In the 40-plane lineup
That the airport had grown.
Zero is the number
That shows up in red
In the battery section
Of my cellular phone.
Zero’s the number
In military time
That my plane finally landed
At my final city.
Zero is the number
Out of one checked bag
That was at the airport
Waiting for me.
Zero is the number
Of poems technically written
By me on Tuesday
June 28.
Zero is the number
Of f**ks I give
That this hard-fought travel poem’s
Published 12 minutes late.
Filed under Poems, Uncategorized
Am I A Monster?
I was brave. I came out of the closet
And they said “you’re a monster” to my face.
I entered a world that didn’t love me
Or those of my type, creed, or race.
I expected a celebration
But all I earned was hatred instead
So that’s why you’ll find me this evening
Just hiding under your bed.
Filed under Poems
USA, November 2016
Roses are reds,
Violets are blue,
These are both valid points, and I’ll address them in a moment, but first…
But does anyone stop to comfort the violets in their sorrow? Even once?
No!
You know, depression is a chemical imbalance and has many dangerous side effects. But when it becomes a part of ones identity, as it has for the violets, it transcends its mortal debilitation and becomes a blight on the very soul.
When I’m elected, I’m going to make violets purple again! And not by adding rose colored glasses, no. Not by that. Who needs all the thorns roses bring anyway? No, I dream of a garden where honest, hardworking violets can grow bigly without the radical redness of roses!
In other words, f*** you roses.
Let’s Get Pruning ™
This poem brought to you by Goldman Sachs.
Filed under Poems
Breakups Are Hard
Oh my darling, oh my darling,
Oh my darling Clementine.
You are lost and gone forever.
On second thought, that’s just fine.
Filed under Poems
That or Football
I’ve got a hobby that’s really cool
That makes me feel like a man.
I like staring at my roof;
I am a ceiling fan.
Filed under Poems
Give The Dog A Bone?
My town was in the news today
For a reason that isn’t nice.
A man was hired to kill another
Amidst a field of rice.
The way he committed the murder
Showed his creativity had no lack.
His weapon was a ceramic statue.
‘Twas a knick-knack paddy whack.
Filed under Poems
