Tag Archives: Weird

The Splatterpainted-Red-Canvas of Poetry, Expressed Through The Mediums of Brownish Colors, [Theoretically] Edible Birds, and Leavened Grain Objects, Vol.13, AKA Sundays

Beige chicken wonder bread!

Boredom flowing through my head.

Tan turkey whole wheat toast!

Today’s a better day than most.

Brown ostriche gluten free!

That’s a day that’s right for me.

Ochre phoenix sourdough!

Now it’s time for me to go.

(Semi-related food for thought: what would happen if you ate a phoenix)?

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Weird Bob Gets Dumped

Fish don’t sweat

And cars don’t bleed.

Plants don’t poop

And dogs don’t read.

Knives don’t smile

And rocks don’t get lither.

Why should she care

If I don’t do that stuff either?

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Pulitzer Bait

What in the sheltered blue of dawn

Was in the sunlight brown as fawn

Turned reddish bronze in ochre night

And yellow in the Summer’s flight.

The spectrum warranted by such

Invoked in hearts a feeling much

As was supposed in rumor and buzz

That no one knew just what it was.

Opaqueness faded into clear

As people gathered far and near

To gaze on the whatever thing

Until the spoken truth would ring.

Alas as stanzas came and went,

The verses writ and meter bent

It soon was clear that even I,

The poet, could not identify

Just what in sheltered blue of dawn

Would visably change as all looked on.

This ending fixed inside my head

I thought of a rhyme and went to bed.

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The Newest Gender Identity

Under the apple tree

You are you, I am me.

We can hug and kiss all day

And never hear the others say

“Why are you kissing that horse?”

They don’t understand of course

But under the apple tree… well, there

No one ever seems to care.

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Not For You And Me

Grew up in a place

Wouldn’t know

Where pronouns have no place

Or so said so.

Before call something

Might regret later

Know that shouldn’t

Be a hater.

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Why I Love Baseball

“Batter Up!” The umpire yelled,

And then he screamed in fright

As the crowd smeared uncooked pancakes on themselves

And ran off into the night.

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The Wife And Mr. Chicken

No one warms my heart like you do,

For three minutes on medium heat.

Our families and neighbors judge us harshly

But I’m glad, to you, I’m just a piece of meat.

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One Does Not

Slap a chicken with a fish-

You may do that if you wish.

Put a baby in a pot-

Sure you can, or maybe not.

Eat raw eggs and bacon too-

I probably wouldn’t, but I’m not you.

There’s but one act that’s out of order:

Simply walking into Mordor.

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Life

Life is an event

That happens to us all.

Some lives end in greatness

While others are extras

In a George Lucas story.

As for me…

I’m a rebel poet,

The greatest George Lucas extra

Who ever got too tired to rhyme.

You only get one life to take for granted;

Don’t waste the opportunity.

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Everything You Want To Know (But Were Too Scared To Ask)

Am I the only one

Who’s lonely at night,

Who drinks from the faucet,

Who doesn’t want to fight?
Am I the only one

Whose hot chocolate is made

Without any water

But instead lemonade?
Am I the only one

Whose blowholes get sore

When I inhale the air

That you buy at the store?
If you’re ever unsure

If you’re normal or weird

Know that I’m right there with you

And so is my beard.

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