Tag Archives: True Story

I’ve Looked At Actual Books And Faces In The Meantime

Two weeks ago I left behind

A big part of my life…

And I don’t speak of small stuff

Like a job, a church, a wife…

I left behind the means by which

Most others at me look,

By which I mean the platform

That we know as the Facebook.

And since I stepped away from it

I noticed there’s a sky,

I haven’t heard “impeach Trump”

Nor been annoyed by those who try,

I haven’t argued even once

Or leered at female friends

And my days are nine hours longer

And I don’t care whom that offends.

My IQ’s jumped twelve points so far.

I may have lost some weight.

I talked a bit with strangers

At the bus’s boarding gate.

I went outside three times this week

And didn’t feel lame

And though some folks may still hate me

I don’t comment on their blame.

So overall un-pluggedness

(Or less-pluggedness if we’re honest)

Has made me ever happier,

Less pale, and a bit more modest.

Now instead of saying

“Here’s how my life should be”

To friends I haven’t seen in years

Now I can just be me!

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Thar’s Lookin’ At The Bri’ Side!

I went to bed at midnight

And woke at 5:00 AM

Happy, peaceful, prepped to seize the day,

“But its early” I thought

And so I hatched a plot

To sleep a few more hours anyway.

Now its just about 11:00

And I’m achy, sick, and bored

Wondering what the heck went wrong.

Now I’ll get dumped and buy a gun

And call up Brooks and Dunn

And maybe this day can be a country song!

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Thank You! I’ll Be Here All Night

I’ve got another story

That I thought I’d share with you

And unlike most of my others

This one is completely true.

I’m stuck in traffic, driving

Down through Portland, OR.

At one time people thought “let’s go”

But apparently not anymore.

We’re driving behind a Tesla

With a vanity plate

That reads “UNSTPBL.”

Its driver I do hate.

I know most folks are decent

But my opinion’s going askew

Thanks to Mr. 100K a year

Who has 15 IQ.

I could probably go on longer,

And (we’ll see) perhaps I might.

I’ve got 400 miles ’til I get home

And that’s a lot of night.

I’m glad I don’t live in LA,

New York, or Portland too,

But if you’ve got a book I can sign

Come to I-5 exit 242.

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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.

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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!

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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!

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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).

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