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?
Tag Archives: Truth
Honestly, Every Baby Name After 2007 Though…
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
Thank You! I’ll Be Here All Night
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
Your Chance To Lose Money Is Finally Here! (Hi Clive)
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
Is My Bed The Nicest Place On Earth, Or Is It Just Tuesday?
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
For Those Of You Wondering…
Whether getting or giving,
As long as you’re living,
No matter how epic the thrift
It will always be true…
(Just between me and you)
Life insurance is a bad birthday gift.
Filed under Poems
Mr. Infallible and the Plague of Other People
In a very distant city
In some un-noteworthy land
There stood a shabby little shack
Which housed the one all-knowing man.
The man was very happy
Because he knew how to be so,
Yet he had a common problem
And away it would not go.
The problem he experienced
Was, despite his knowing all
The people who surrounded him
Would never heed his call.
A wolf would eat a neighbor,
A child would lose its way;
To the second he’d predict these
Yet the man still had no say.
He knew of no solution
And, knowing all, he knew no hope
So he lived a life of nothing
As a shack-dwelling all-knowing dope.
Yet the answer to his problems
Had been with him all along.
‘Twas the one thing he could not accept…
That, maybe, he was wrong.
Filed under Poems
The Real Darkness Approaches…
Once a year we celebrate
The gruesome and bizarre,
The stuff that gives clowns nightmares
And makes wolves hide under cars.
We make light of the horrific,
Let go the values we hold dear…
We call this celebration “tax day”
And it’ll come in half a year.
Filed under Poems
*With The Exception Of A Few (You Know Who You Are), This Was More A Matter Of Finding A Proper Rhyme Than Actual Disrespect
I respect dumbells.
They have a valuable job.
By lifting them up we grow stronger
Faster than eating corn on the cob.
I don’t respect bad drivers
And people from Northeastern states*.
I suggest we rename them “dumbells”
And call dumbells “single-hand weights.”
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 