There once was an Airbnb
That played host to none other than me.
The wifi was slow.
Will this upload? I don’t snow…
I guess given time we will see.
Tag Archives: True Story
It’ll Get Better Soon… Maybe (Probably Not : )
Yesterday I wrote a joke
And thought I’d write more later.
By later I had decomposed
Into a couch potater.
From the fact ai wrote “potater”
I suspect that you can see
This week has not inspired
My most vibrant artistry.
So tonight I have a fallback
That I’ve used in ages past
Where I write a bit on writing
And use words like “grand” and “vast.”
I make questionable decisions
And lines with uneven meter,
And rap up the inanity
By rhyming with saltpeter.
Filed under Poems
Five-Year Plan (Updated)
There’s a little yellow house
With tulips in the yard,
Home to a pair of dreamers
And an angel on the way.
One of them’s a teacher.
Her husband is a bard
Who sits at a computer
Making problems go away.
The echo from a timeless love
A love that first began
When she asked him to talk about
His “perfect five-year plan.”
There’s a little library
Inside that yellow house,
A studio where students come
To learn the clarinet,
A kitchen big enough to please
The more attractive spouse,
And two young hearts forevermore
As full as they can get.
They’re thinking of the day he said
“I want to be your man,”
The first of many steps within
His perfect five-year plan.
You’ll never hear a hateful word
Be spoken bu them there.
They never let an apple sit
On any empty chair.
They smile at every photograph
Hung on the family wall,
But they won’t say what happens when
The captain comes to call.
And when the five year plan was done
And the house was home to four
He’d renew the five-year plan
Another lifetime more.
But there’s a little yellow house,
For-sale sign on the lawn.
It never was the home for them
The bard had counted on.
Turns out a five-year plan for two
Won’t work with only one
No matter how much someone cries
When they know that it’s done.
The perfect lifelong five-year plan
In three months was complete,
But when you love someone that much
You can’t call it defeat.
The sun still shines, the waves still crash,
There’s still a dusk and dawn.
The leaves are green, the rain is wet,
His eyes are nearly clear.
Just like the clouds that once were grey,
His heart is moving on
From yellow houses, unborn kids,
The teacher, and his fear.
The one thing he won’t leave behind
And knows he never can
Are memories that came to life
Thanks to a five-year plan.
Filed under Poems
Ordinary Life
The hours we spent painting gnome houses
And the hours we spent playing games
And the meals and walking
And laughing and talking
And whispering each others’ names,
The hour we spent after bedtime
Just wrapped in each other, in love,
And the sweet half an hour
That I was your tower
And your lips glowed from starlight above,
A greeting, a morning, a breakfast, adventure,
The downtime, the party, the kiss:
I cannot be lonely when you are my only;
No time was spent better than this.
Filed under Poems
But They Only Had Spoons… #Tragedy
Today I ordered Sierra Mist and a fork
For lunch at a drive-through.
Thus ends my presentation:
“Why I have more fun than you.”
Filed under Poems
But It Won’t… So There
Tonight I watched a movie
That made me cry
About an awkward redhead
Who can travel through time.
He learned that living every day
As if it is your last
Is the key to perfect happiness,
Not reliving the past.
Unlike awkward redhead dude
I can’t control the ages,
Can’t redo my past mistakes
Or rewrite history’s pages.
What I can do that others can’t
Is make the time you spend
Be used to wish my poetry
Would finally freakin’ end.
Filed under Poems
Just FYI
Today I’m going adventuring
To a land without wifi or ceilings.
I’ll sleep in a tent
‘Til my body is bent
Just to not think about business dealings.
The poems from now to this Thursday
Were written Sunday in a blur,
So if you’re not pleased
With poems like these
You have my permission to grrr.
Filed under Poems
My Evening Routine
Sometimes I wonder what bumps in the night,
If a leaf feels joy as the wind gives it flight,
How a man feels alone in the heart of a crowd,
If a teacher dreads saying the words “Sperm Whale” aloud.
Sometimes I wonder why I wonder why,
And if I’ll stop wondering after I die.
I smile as these musings run wild through my head,
Then I crank out a poem and go off to bed.
Filed under Poems
Story Time, 2321
Today we remember the world’s greatest dancer
Who ten score years earlier passed on from cancer.
Before she succumbed to the tumors and such
She lived a grand life and accomplished so much:
She was the first woman to dance on the moon,
The first to make contact with the Laser Raccoon,
The inventor of Carbon, the first scrambler of eggs,
And ZZ Top’s inspiration to write “She’s Got Legs.”
When she was young people said she was odd
For she went to the pet store and adopted a God.
As she grew older her thoughts turned to war
And where once there was everything there soon was no more,
So she let her pet rebuild quite a bit
While she spent her time just relaxing a bit.
Then she saw an ad in a paper one day
And, on a whim, chose to take up ballet.
She learned how to twirl and wear tutus and stuff
And discovered ballet was incredibly tough…
Much tougher than crushing rebellions, they say…
Worse even than smelling some Axe body spray.
She struggled and sweated, for she felt it vital
That she must be ready for her first recital.
She struggled and strained through each pirouette
‘Til she was the best that a dancer could get.
Some people had doubted, had mocked her and laughed
But after she danced they all saw how they’d gaffed.
“Alas,” they cried out as she do-si’d her do
And those who felt proud suddenly felt quite low.
And as she bowed low and the watchers applauded
And her majesty great by the critics was lauded
She said the five words that ended her tale:
She said “I was born biologically male.”
The entire world raged and volcanoes erupted
As their heroine’s image by sin was corrupted
And so she was wiped from the pages of history
And now even her name is no more than a mystery.
Some people will tell you this poem’s not funny,
That I am just lying ‘cause I want your money,
But know that this legend is utterly true
Or the Earth isn’t flat and the sky isn’t blue.
And if you say otherwise, I’ll have you know
There’s a place where all bad kids like you have to go…
The worst prison ever, a hell of a jail
Reserved for those convicted of being a white male.
That’s all for today, little wards of the state.
Now go home and remember, love is better than hate.
Filed under Poems
Gentlemen Prefer Stalls
Still as a statue,
Deer in the headlights,
Sleeps like a baby,
Calm as can be;
These things are common
But nothing comes close
To how still is my bladder
When you stand next to me.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 