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.
Filed under Poems
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
I want to talk about the months
And where their names came from.
Please know all of these are true
Even if they sound dumb.
Jan and Ferb Uary
Were brothers who shared a belle.
Jan got mad and misspelled Ferb’s name
But it all ended up pretty well.
March is based on Mcdonald’s logo.
April was the belle Jan and Ferb liked.
May is a grammatically better version of “can.”
June’s the month that nobody liked.
July was Julie, but was sad about Ferb
And got misspelled too ’cause she was so stressed.
August was named by a Texan who
In his accent said the words “I guessed.”
September was God’s gift to calendar’s everywhere.
October was named by someone who thought Ctober was lame.
Nov and Dec Ember were also brothers
But are last in the year ’cause they both had a stupid name.
I hope you feel more knowledgable
About months, but you probably don’t.
I hope you share this with your friends
But if you’re a smart person you probably won’t.
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Grizzly bear
Sitting there
Playing with
My ex-wife’s hair.
He seems happy.
She seems dead.
Yes I’m morbid.
Now, off to bed.
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When I moved into
The mobile home park
I thought my life
Was turning dark,
But I found pleasure
As I sought paying labors
In the form of melo-
Dramatic neighbors.
If you say “hello”
They say “Hail traveler!”
You say “I like Charizard,”
And they say “I love Graveler!”
It’s like they’re in a movie,
So although my life’s a failure
I take solace in the fact
They’re a theatrical trailer.
Filed under Poems
“If I were a pickled spleen
Kept in a jar for 30 years
Charged with electrical current
In a chamber full of your darkest fears,
Then released from the jar on a Sunday
And carried overseas by some birds
To attend celebrations in Istanbul
Would you still kiss me afterwards?”
Filed under Poems
