Tag Archives: Wealth

The Flavor Of “Winning”

For a moment I sat there

With blood on my hands

Smearing life on my white-bread toast

In a room all alone

With inanimate friends

In a halfway house built for a ghost.

My Ferrari was mired

In a 90-hour week

When I needed just 12 to survive

But I’d long since stopped living

For the privilege of being

Among the elite few who can thrive.

The child in the basement

Was calling for daddy

‘Til its fat little throat had gone raw

And yet I was too busy

Helping others to join me

To notice my life had a flaw.

But if I’d payed attention,

Tasted a tomato

Or felt a moth land in my hair,

Just walked outside barefoot

Or put salt in my coffee

I’d realize somehow I still care.

I care about family.

I care about freedom.

I don’t need this bottle and pill.

And maybe that baby

Will say “taste the tomato”

And if I haven’t yet died then I will.

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Impression: Los Angeles

I stood out here once before

Seeking what could not be found

Head to toe in the neon cloak of midnight

Listening for the absence of a sound.

I saw humans crawl past empty sidewalks

Burning gas and paying fares

On the way to work that will empower them

To buy their surplus worries and cares.

They seek comfort in a glasses, pills, and needles,

Pray for hope through a politician’s lies.

Paychecks promise them the satisfaction

Of being happy in someone else’s eyes.

Red-eye pilots flee this urban heaven

Carrying those with sense enough to flee.

I just read my scripts and idly wonder

What it’s like to see a real tree.

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Seriously, Look It Up People!

Nixon heard of the Laffer curve

And thought it was a joke.

Reagan heard of the Laffer curve

And said “that’s why we’re broke!”

Obama heard of the Laffer curve

And asked “what did you smoke?”

Trump heard of the Laffer curve

And said “this is bigly woke!”

Most of you heard of the Laffer curve

For the first time just now,

You don’t know what it is

Or how it affects your chow.

So please look up the Laffer curve

So as to be better informed

And we can get to fixing

All the folks who’ve been social-normed.

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Lady and the Tramp

She was a Sagittarius

Who played a Stradivarius.

I was a Virgo

Who played the trombone.

She spent her days

Reading music and plays

While I played Tetris

Beside my pet stone.

She was a sommelier,

Who perused cassoulet

And to whom piquant tinctures

Were je ne sais quois.

But down by the lake

I jumped out of her cake

And I’m pretty certain

That she noticed moi.

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And You Can Help By Buying My Books! (For Art’s Sake)

If I make a million dollars

Writing poetry some day

I’ll buy a bunch of bushes

And cut them in a way

That they’re shaped like women

Who don’t like 50 Shades of Grey

Because we all need a bit more

Of those in our lives, eh?

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The Poet Eats PBJs and Justifies His Existence

I’d rather be happy than rich.

Mansions are fine, but smiles are hot.

I’d rather be happy than rich,

And I’m happy to say that I’m not.

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Rich People Suck Or Something, But Not Really…

You may be a man of means

Who’s healthy, wealthy, and wise. You

Sure may be a man of means

And if so I must despise you

For if you are a man of means

Your good luck clouds your head

For who would be a man of means

And not a man of nices instead?

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