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
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
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).
Filed under Poems
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.
Filed under Poems
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.
Filed under Poems
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?
Filed under Poems
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.
Filed under Poems
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!
Filed under Poems
Part of making art
Is having sincere belief
That your crap is gold.
Filed under Poems
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.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 