“Glorify me!”
Yelled the beetle
Before he was squashed
By old Mr. Cheadle.
So if you think you’re important
You’d best think again
Or else be on the lookout
For little old men.
“Glorify me!”
Yelled the beetle
Before he was squashed
By old Mr. Cheadle.
So if you think you’re important
You’d best think again
Or else be on the lookout
For little old men.
Filed under Poems
Some claim my speech invalid
Because my skin is pallid.
Some think you can’t be right
If your skin blends into night.
But what we all agree upon
Be we dark or pale
Is that we’re superior to
The common goose or quail.
Filed under Poems
A first drink or a first date
Can be first love or likewise hate.
A first kiss or first fight
Are blackness deep and endless light.
A first dance as man and wife
Will give you joy for all your life
Unless man/man or woman/woman you’re.
Then you’ll complain about this poem for sure.
Filed under Poems
You don’t often hear stories
About giant sea cucumbers
Who dabble in intrigue
And paint by numbers.
You don’t hear the stories
Of the cukes of the night,
But they’re real. One day
You’ll see that I’m right…
Filed under Poems
It’s hard to write a travesty
If, indeed, you are like me
And despite your hopes and dreams
Nothing hurts and no one screams.
It’s hard to find valid complaints
When no one bleeds or pukes or faints,
When songbirds sing and angels fly
And all the spiders up and die.
It’s hard to be a downer debbie
When light stuff’s light and hebby’s hebby.
The world is peaceful, lovely, flat…
Oh wait, it’s not?
I can write about that!
Filed under Poems
Never be nervous to be who you are.
Don’t be afraid to be you.
Don’t feel scared to ask “whyever so?”
When the other owls only ask “who?”
Filed under Poems
You may be a man of means
Who’s healthy, wealthy, and wise. You
Sure may be a man of means
And if so I must despise you
For if you are a man of means
Your good luck clouds your head
For who would be a man of means
And not a man of nices instead?
Filed under Poems
Way way back in time
Before to burp was an imposition
And male dinosaurs ruled the earth
And female dinosaurs stayed in the kitchen…
Editor’s Note: This poem was never finished as the poet was brutally crushed to death by a vengeful time-traveling she-brontasaurus who is also your mother.
Filed under Poems
You know when you lose
And you feel pretty lame
But you shake hands
And tell your partner “good game?”
I hope that you don’t
Because that old-fashioned crap is dead.
Losing is for losers.
Inaugurate Bernie instead!
Filed under Poems