Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Yet a more valuable fact
Is less cited as true:
They’re symbols of waste,
The decay of one’s youth,
Yet one must buy flowers
To prove that you’re couth.
For every blue violet
And red rose you eschew
The longer the doghouse
Shall be fate for you.
So for my fellow rebels
Who see trees but not forests…
When we kill all the lawyers
Let’s also kill florists.
Filed under Poems
29.34 percent of deaths
Were caused by heart disease.
23.04 were infections and
Parasitic causes (like fleas).
Cancer’s 12.49, stroke’s 9.66.
The next 20or so’s respiratory.
Then we get into small CoD’s
And a more interesting story:
War caused just .3 percent
Of death in recent times,
About the same as syphilis
And less than a third that of violent crimes.
More people died of tetanus
Than a decade of endless war.
You’ll more likely die of suicide
Than fighting on a distant shore.
And too low to show up,
Beneath .06 percent
I’m wondering where all the deaths
From firearm ownership went.
Filed under Poems
Pigs are perfect!
That’s what I think.
They’re smart and they’re fat
And they’re pretty in pink.
They’re as faithful as dogs.
They’re unable to hate.
There’s no animal better
To have on my plate.
Filed under Poems
‘Twas two days before Christmas
And filling the sky
Were Amazon.com drones
Sent by those who clicked “buy.”
The children looked up
And they felt the lie slipping.
Parents said “Santa outsourced
“To get next day shipping.”
The children relaxed,
Curiosity sated
And went to their rooms
And for Christmas eve waited.
Meanwhile in Alaska
Somewhere near North Pole
Rudolph stood in line
To get on the state’s dole,
To collect unemployment
For now he could see
That his job, thanks to robots,
Had gone down in history.
Filed under Poems
One of the beloved songs
Is titled “Silent Night,”
Of story of a night where all
Is calm and all is bright.
With the writer of the song
I want to have a chat.
A silent night where all is bright?
What kind of night is that?
Filed under Poems
I feel for baby Adolfs,
Judases, Atillas,
Who had to live entire lives
Proving they’re just vanillas
Instead of evil Hall-of-Famers
Whose names they now must share.
On the other hand, how ’bout some killers
Named Peyton, Taylor, Weston, or Blair?
Filed under Poems
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.
Filed under Poems
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).
Filed under Poems
Two feet from where I’m sitting
There’s a mighty gale I hear.
I thought a bird hit my window,
But turns out it was a deer.
At the zoo a fish died (drowning)
And some penguins froze to death.
A politician stopped complaining
And turns out nothing rhymes with “death.”
I watched a Chris Rock movie
And not one person cussed
And in exactly fifteen minutes
I have to leave to catch the bus.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 