I said “kinda farty,”
And mommy got mad.
That’s what her dinner tasted like.
Now I live alone with Dad.
Tag Archives: Truth
Oh, Also I’m Sick
Sitting on a bus
Waiting to go home.
I don’t feel creative at all.
The driver is gone.
If this moment were art
It’d be the plain red stripe on a hotel wall.
Dogs are pretty.
Pretties are not always dogs.
If you thought you’d be happy
With this poem’s conclusion
Reread the first two lines.
Heaven Is Real
This world of ours has beauty
Hidden where you’d least expect.
There’s a chance for redemption
In every life that ends up wrecked.
In every gray face on the corner,
In every drop the clouds can cry,
There’s a way for you to heal
If you only choose to try.
So when the sun stops shining
Take comfort in the shade.
The beauty in the pink of dawn
Is equal to when day fades.
Eagles think they’re falling
When they first learn how to fly.
Love is all around us,
Not just in some beholders eye.
The world has many faces.
Close your eyes, the faces stay.
Whatever you think of the world
It doesn’t change its way.
Regardless of what you may believe
The truth is always true.
If you don’t believe in Heaven,
Heaven still believes in you.
Filed under Poems
I Can Safely Write This Because She Doesn’t Read My Blog And Is Imaginary
Some sayings sound satisfying
But don’t apply to real life,
Like “what comes up must come down”
Doesn’t work for the weight of my wife…
Filed under Poems
Children’s Music
For those of you who do not know
I have a sparse financial pool,
And so to make some extra bucks
I teach chess at the local school.
Now, names are hard to memorize
So sometimes we play games
To have fun, but mostly to
Help master all the names.
One such game is but a song,
Wherein the person pitched
Is sung to in a pattern
In which some letters get switched:
“Jamie jamie bo bamie,
“Bannana-fanna fo famie,
Me, my, mo mamie,
“Jamie.”
Yes, it is a silly game
But it does its job.
The problem is that you don’t want
To make the children sob
So every single child
Gets their own letter-swapping chorus
To help us learn their names
Before they play chess and ignore us.
In the old days all the Jamies,
Davids, Duncans, Kyles, and Joes
Could sing this song as easily
As “Head, shoulders, knees and toes.”
But now all the La’shamquas,
Chimeras, Flexktons, and Ka’drames
Don’t work as well with this song
(And the Aidan/Caden/Jaydensall sound the same).
Still the worst name ever
That I’ve applied this method too
Was a little boy named Tucker
Who didn’t want to go boo-hoo
So a class of twenty children
Sang “bannana-fanna fo…”
Then sang the next line to the principal
Who then told me I had to go.
So that’s why I am hustling
With my chess board in the park.
Sometimes you end up a hero.
Sometimes Tucker makes you a shark.
Filed under Poems
Hint: I’m Burning The American Southeast In Effigy
It’s my birthday.
The Seahawks lost.
You may or may not draw
An accurate conclusion
Of my happiness (or lack thereof)
Based on that information.
Filed under Poems
A Commoner Poem
If I were cast in Game of Thrones
I think I’d be a peasant
‘Cause I’m a lousy actor
And my death would be more pleasant.
Filed under Poems
True Story Guest Post: The Epic of Hwy 99
Such a travesty is BC Hwy 99I think the guys who built it were blind
Or perhaps were very drunk
This road doesn’t make sense to a duck.
The road was built for Mario Cart
Level one is 340 degree turns
Level two is curves that lead to un-marked one-lane bridges
Level three add turning trucks
And if that isn’t more than enough
Level four the deer are suicidal.
Level five we take away the road signs
Level six adds falling rocks
Level seven adds the rain
Level eight is and 15% grade
Level nine is 10 km/hr on that grade
I don’t want to reach level ten —
Not even the Buddha has that level zen.
JOFFRE LAKES!
Now it all makes sense!
And at the village intersection
As the clock strikes midnight,
We pass the bloody Grim.
And across a bridge we go
To be warned of washout conditions.
I have 99 problems
And this road is all of them.
Filed under Poems
What We Really Mean
Happy birthday Facebook friend!
This past year your life didn’t end.
You didn’t factor much into my life.
We’re only friends ’cause of my wife.
Filed under Poems
The Quest For Common Sense (And A Wonderful Resource For Those Who Fail It)
I tell this tale and sing this song;
‘Tis neither short nor over long.
It is the tale of whom I met
When towards the darkness off I set.
I ventured to a fright’ning spot,
All at one both cold and hot,
And in its center stood the tree
Of personal responsibility.
And beneath that mighty central birch
I met a figure on its perch,
A lovely human, clean and bright
Yet I stood only half its height.
It spoke to me with radiant voice:
“To you I grant this single choice:
“To leave my grove, still safe and dense
“Or to eat the fruit of common sense.”
I looked again at the dreadful tree
From which grew apples, light and free
And with the hymns of wisdom fair
Filled joyfully the grove’s clean air.
And then I looked beyond the wood
To whence I came. Alas, still stood
Where man and beast were much the same,
Obsessed with power, sex, and fame.
To the glorious figure I did ask
What treachery hid within my task,
What fear and pain accompanied
The fruit of logic and its seed.
“No pain at all,” the figure said
Extending apples, smooth and red.
I knew not what was wrong nor right
But I grabbed the fruit and took a bite.
No longer was the forest bleak.
I couldn’t hide. I needn’t speak.
Where once the darkness clutched my heart
I only saw the world’s true art.
Where once I begged, now I produced.
Where once I guessed, now I deduced.
Where once had stood the figure bright
Now stood a mirror to my sight.
And yet the place from which I came
Sat glumly, still the very same.
I stood in brightness, stared at black,
And knew I never would go back.
So if you wander, wondering
Why you’re not pleased with your new thing,
Why your whole life seems second best
I summon you to join my quest,
To seek out forests rank with fear,
And from them soon there will appear
The brighter, lighter, clearer you
That knows and does what’s right and true,
Who looks at worlds of smog and spite,
Yet does his best and smiles despite.
Eat the fruit and so commence
Your brand new life with common sense!
But if back home you would return,
If common sense you seek to spurn,
If you treat dumbness with aplomb
You’ll find your kin at Facebook.com
Filed under Poems
