Sob, sob, sob
Cry, cry, cry.
Woe is me!
Oh my, oh my.
Waah, waah, waah.
Whee, whee, whee.
Everybody
Look at me!
Tag Archives: Postaday
And The Award For Best Pet Goes To…
I’ve had a lot of pets.
Okay, not really… but a few
And I tell you with conviction
That the best of them is you.
When I read my poems to goldfish,
Guppies, betas, or trout
They get neither the humor
Nor what the poem’s about.
When I read my rhymes to kitties
They bite me on the thumb.
When I read my verse to doggies…
Well, alas, they’re cute but dumb.
When I read poems to my girlfriends,
Oh sure, they laugh and smile
And beg me to be their only love,
But that’s just not my style.
But you stay with me, readers.
You are my best friend and my steed.
I’m a lucky guy to have you,
And you don’t cost much to feed.
Filed under Poems
I can’t hear you… Just some sexy music
They say iPhones have bad signal strength.
I think that’s a misconception,
Because I use a saxaphone.
Now that has bad reception!
Filed under Poems
What Is A Sunday?
if Monday was productive
It would be Tuesday instead.
If Tuesday were called “Hump day”
Maybe we’d want to get out of bed.
If the end was in sight on Wednesday
We would enjoy it more.
If after Thursday was a weekend
It would not be such a snore.
Saturday’s a Friday
During which we needn’t work,
But Sunday is what Saturday
Would be if it were a jerk.
On Sunday we do nothing
Just like on Saturday,
Except our nothing is interrupted
By our freedom sneaking away.
We’re filled to our proverbial brim
With end-of-weekend anxiety.
That is what a Sunday is,
Or maybe that’s just me.
Filed under Poems
But It’s Organic!
It had an extra leg, I think,
And several extra eyes.
I don’t know how it got into my drink.
Oh look at that… it flies!
Filed under Poems
I’m Not Even Going To Apologize
Sometimes dogs are happy.
Sometimes dogs are sad.
You wanted a clever poem?
Well today, that’s just too bad.
Filed under Poems
Self-Inflicted Problems
Coffee and tea
With my good friend Cindy.
Coffee and cake
With my other friend Jake.
Coffee and porn
With my buddy Bjorn.
Coffee and grub
At the insomniac’s club.
Filed under Poems
They Have Strong Legs in Mexico
I sang “dropkick me Jesus
“Through the goal posts of life.”
My Mexican gardener is very literal.
It’s caused us some strife.
Filed under Poems
D-I-Why
For fourteen dollars and fifteen hours
I can buy some wood and plastic towers
And with the help of a hammer, saw,
Electric drill, and my guitaw
I can make a TV stand
That I created by my own hand.
For fifteen dollars and sixteen minutes
I can buy a stand already finished.
I’ll assemble it with an alan wrench,
Then maybe also build a bench.
But the pride of doing is better than haste.
Besides, can’t let those towers go to waste!
Filed under Poems
In Defense of Rhyme
There are those who tell me
That a poem that rhymes
Is unnescessary.
There are those who say
A poem that rhymes
Is of the devil
Or the patriarchy
Or “kind of stringent, don’t you think?”
Their tellings and sayings
Spool around the cellar
Of an ivory tower
Whose black horses
And cakes which are a lie
No longer echo
In the halls of our great uncles.
Confusion is their currency.
Paragraphs
Are
Their
Playthings.
I do not understand this poem.
Neither do you.
I just wrote it to show ’em,
Figuratively, who’s who.
