I’m sitting in my dining room
Eating a pomegranate
While my wife paints a model horse
On this most peaceful planet.
As I bite into the sweet
And sour seeds, I mull:
Is this how happy zombies feel
When they bite that perfect skull?
Tag Archives: True Story
A Moment Of Silence (For A Month)
I’m getting married in two weeks
And there’s a lot to do
So I’m taking a mental break
Until I say “I do.”
And when November comes around
My poems will come back.
For now though, may your dreams be light
And your teeth be free of plaque.
On Nursing And Duty
Roses are red
My fiancée is achey
So I have an excuse
If this poem seems flakey.
Filed under Poems
I Asked My Fiance To Write The Odd-Numbered Lines And I’d Handle The Rhyming…
Fan.
Man.
TV.
Stevie.
Watch.
Crotch.
Orange.
Yeah… this is what I signed up for
Filed under Poems
My First Bachelor Party (True Story)
I ate a lot of sushi
And I drove a lot of miles
And played a lot of board games
And enjoyed a lot of smiles
And now I’m in a Lexus
Writing poems on my phone
And so far I’ve only said one thing
For which I must atone…
Filed under Poems
Maybe Poverty Is Good?
A week ago five billionaires
Paid half a million each
To sink into the ocean
To within Titanic‘s reach.
Today, a billionaire put up
For sale a chance to fly
Into space, which makes my face
Nonverbally scream “Why?”
Filed under Poems
Panic Poem Of Speed
I’m in the sticks
And the wifi is bad.
I hope that this publishes.
Vegans are bad.
Filed under Poems
Double-O One Through Six
There was a fantabulous spy
Who was put in a death trap to die.
His life then did cease
And the world knew no peace.
If you’ve never heard of him, that’s why.
Filed under Poems
Rainbow Town
Big green steamboat
With two red wheels
Casting great white wakes
In the chocolate Mississippi water.
In the distance, a brick-red city
With lights in tans and teals
And the iron evening air
Is growing blacker, hotter.
The brassy blast of cymbals
And a wailing silver sax
Play the blues for our reunion
And the clouds are stalwart brown.
I’m sitting in a steel chair
With rust like sealing wax
As a snowy egret flies into
The night in rainbow town.
Filed under Poems
Travel Traditions
I flew on a plane to New Orleans
And by now you know what that means:
I’m probably tired, and pleased to report
That this poem is late and also is short.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 