Tag Archives: Truth

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.

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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.

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Another Night Of D&D

There once was a skeezy Paladin,

A sly assassin, a cheesy bard,

A moon priestess, an archer,

And they rolled the dice real hard.

They stopped a civil war of trolls

And saved a duke from bombs of magic

And they lived happily ever after

(Which is the opposite of tragic).

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A Blessing In Disguise?

If I had a nickel

For every time I’ve wanted a nickel

I’d have enough to buy

At least one delicious pickle.

If I had a dollar

For every time I’ve wanted a dollar

I’d be so buried in delicious pickles

No one would hear me holler.

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‘Merica Loves The Draft

Today’s the day that giant men

Who some describe as “ballers”

Get called by teams of athletes

To play games for millions of dollars

And older guys who used to play

And that one blonde chick enumerate

The reason why that particular guy

Will make their newfound team great.

Meanwhile, men who’re five-foot-two

But also weigh 300 pounds

Sit in bars and pound their chests

And buy each other rounds.

And somehow through the fog

Of testosterone and concealed erections

This moment matters more to most

Than national elections.

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24 Hours Of Visibility And The Whole System Collapses…

I think for one day a year

All taxes should be ignored

And you’ll see how gas is a dollar less

And your check is twenty percent more

And as you drive your car on roads

With a single pothole, wonder

Why do we support “our side” so much

When both sides keep sucking us under?

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Ode To A Color That Sounds Like A Grandma’s Name

Mauve is a version of pink

That prettier than you might think.

It sounds like beigey-blue

But that’s just not true.

It was named for the mallow flower

And possesses an old-fashioned power

To make people yawn and complain.

It’s like a happy cocktail stain.

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Lessons in Fine Dining

Life’s like an Oreo cookie:

The start and the end are both crappy

But the more stuff you put in the middle

The more likely you are to be happy!

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And Most Artists Are Good At It…

Part of making art

Is having sincere belief

That your crap is gold.

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When You Have To Do More Than One Creative Thing In A Day

There once was a D&D game

Hosted by this poet, the same.

It ended quite late

With most epic of fates

But as consequence this poem is lame.

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