I’ve always admired blue whales,
The largest animals ever
Who traverse the world routinely
And are beautiful, noble, and clever.
And so I became a blue whale
But a good choice, alas, ’tis not been.
I’m surrounded by feminist bloggers
Who just wish they could grow baleen.
Filed under Poems
For everything there is a first:
First kiss, first game, first beer.
For everything there is a last
But we don’t celebrate those here.
For everything there are middles
Unless first and last are the same,
But we tend not to notice these
‘Cause they all seem just the same.
So I challenge you today to share
Your one-thousand-second baseball game,
Your six-hundred and eighth bus ride,
The fourteenth passing of a flame.
You never know how special
The present will someday get.
Besides, people tweet food pics
So you’re still less boring than the net.
Filed under Poems
I think I know why plants don’t speak
And the reason is this:
They cannot pronounce the word
“Photosynthesis.”
My other hypothesis
For why speech is elusive
Is that plants are politically moderate
(But evidence is inconclusive).
Filed under Poems
Peter picked a peck of pickled peppers.
It seemed to him the decent thing to do,
Then sweated sweetly with some swarthy schleppers
To schlep the peppers way back home to you.
But you, alas, had since left for the seashore
To sell your silly seashells I don’t doubt.
So I went to the park to soothe our offspring.
Didn’t give tidy teeter-totter daughters time to pout.
But somewhere in my heart I felt a tugging…
The tongue-tied tugging you and Jack know well.
I hope it goes away as I fetch water.
But oops! I tripped or slipped. Jill? What the hell?
Filed under Poems
The pot called the kettle black.
The kettle thought the pot was a racist kind,
But then kettle saw that the pot was black too
And, quoth the kettle, nevermind.
Filed under Poems
Amidst the canyons of cement
I, with my board and spray-paint saw
Amidst the half-pipes, sad and gray,
A never-before-dreamt-of flaw.
For who would want to ride downhill
While listening to bands like “thrust” and “taint”
If there were no large bubble letters
Or titties drawn in low-cost paint?
And so I shook my can of blue.
My conscience whispered “make some art.”
And on the hill, for all to see,
In indigo I spelled out “fart.”
Inwardly proud I swallowed a sob
Then went back to congress to do my job.
Today is Easter, as you know.
It’s also April Fool’s Day.
I think those go together
As they celebrate the way
That Jesus was all dead and stuff
And then suddenly he wasn’t.
The two holidays make sense to me
Because the whole “not dead” thing doesn’t.
What also doesn’t make much sense
Is a question of this kind:
It’s that God sacrificed himself
To appease himself I mind.
Not only that, but if it’s true
That Jesus isn’t dead
Then why not find another way
To cure one’s Godly head?
It seems if you’re omnipotent
You could just say “hey folks,
“Get your shit together”
Instead of the “oops, not dead yet” jokes.
But I am just a human
And can’t be my own son
So I’ll just eat my chocolate eggs
And let His will be done.
Filed under Poems
Have you ever seen a sunrise
And thought “that’s very yellow?”
Have you ever met a stranger
And known you do not know the fellow?
Have you ever started a poem
Without knowing how it will end?
If so I have to ask you
To stop trying to steal my identity.
Filed under Poems
Folks sometimes yell
“Jesus Christ!” When they’re mad,
But what did Mary shout
When Jesus was bad?
I do have a theory
And, yes, it is lame
But when Jesus was bad
Mary shouted my name.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 