Thirty-seven dollars in nickels
Rolled into neat little stacks:
I’ll use them to buy some dill pickles
To eat for my mid-morning snacks.
I’ve got a compulsion to do this,
Though no logic yet as to why.
Perhaps I just want the grocers
To think of me as “that guy.”
Filed under Poems
If I played a chess game
With some super-intelligent flies
I think I’d probably win
On account of superior size.
Filed under Poems
Some folks called me deaf.
Some folks called me blind.
Some said I was a freak.
Some said I’d lost my mind.
Some said I sort of squealed
When a bird flew at my eye
Which, on account of my blindness and deafness
I can neither confirm nor deny.
Some folks called me Shithead.
Some folks called me Walt.
Both of those are my middle names
Which is my parents’ fault.
Some folks called me other things
Which may have made me sad
But I don’t know the specifics
‘Cause their brail handwriting’s so bad.
Some folks say I’m stubborn.
Some folks say I’m cheerful.
Some folks express gratitude
That I never give them an ear full.
Some say I can’t appreciate
The world like others do,
But at least I know the smell of AXE
So, in that sense, I’m just like you.
Filed under Poems
“Do what makes you happy”
Is what my first psychiatrist said,
So can you really blame me
When the shrink ended up all dead?
Filed under Poems
I saw her and yelled to her “Hey!”
Then I asked “those legs go all the way?”
Then I thought “what the heck?”
‘Cause her legs met her neck
Which I noticed as she walked away.
Filed under Poems
“Clumps of dainty silver bones
Mixed amidst the silent stones
Are bathed not in blood or tears
But in the light of yesteryears.”
I don’t know the meaning of that verse,
If it be blessing or a curse,
But it’s tattooed on my forehead
Which is why I no longer drink before bed.
Filed under Poems
