Ode To Sweet Tea

When I recently looked back on my nonsensical poems from high school, I attempted to write a new one in the same irreverent style...

"Ode To Sweet Tea"

Oh, sweet tea,
How I love thee,
Even when ye,
Make me pee.

Tequila is vicious,
Milk, delicious,
Motor oil, viscous,
Greeks throw discus,

But the only one I wish to see,
Is the one I love with certainty,
My best friend ever,
(It's true, indeed,)
Ice-cold, refreshing,
Sweet, sweet tea.

Hopeless

I was working on some lyrics a while back. In addition to the meter not working at all, I found most of the lines annoying, depressing, and pretentious. Now, I find them kind of funny...in a Sylvia Plath kind of way...

"Hopeless"

There's pictures in my head,
Of mistakes I have made,
Memories of a perfect life,
And the years I threw way.

I'll get drunk tonight,
Dream of things I know ain't real,
I'll pretend that I'm in love,
While lonely laughs at how I feel.

I wish this place would just burn down,
I wouldn't even try for the door,
I'd wrap myself in all these blankets,
While fire licks whiskey up off the floor.

I string together good days,
But the stitching never holds,
The needle digs inside of me,
Makes me shiver like the cold,

I bury my head in useless hands,
Staring down in an empty cup,
It takes all I've got to try to breath,
And nothing to give up.

Morning Surf

I tried turning one of my old short stories into free verse. It didn't come out like I'd hoped, but I still like the sentiment:

"Morning Surf"

The sun climbs high,
On water-kissed shoulders,

As brown hands dip,
Into the dawn.

There's no better waking,
Than in a tumbling tunnel of breaking glass.

A few haiku.

Frankenstein monster,
Nuts, bolts...the fundamentals.
What a thinking cap!

We have our iPods,
And these opposable thumbs,
But are still beastly.

Ketchup and noodles,
Twenty minutes on the stove,
Ghetto spaghetti.

Enough haiku, dude.
Give it a rest, already.
You're not that clever.

A Poem of My Dog

A Poem of My Dog

I love my dog,
He's only a pup,
But when he's grown,
I'll eat him up.

I'll cook him with onions,
Peppers, and cheese,
And serve him with salad,
Iced tea, and peas.

I'll invite my friends
To come to the meal,
And if by dessert,
They're my friends still,

I'll feed them some jello,
Shaped like a hat,
Topped with whipped cream,
And hair from my cat.

The Poem Of Strange Soup

The Poem Of Strange Soup

My mother served a bowl of soup,
But something moved inside the goop,
I shouted and I raised my fists,
I hollered loudly, "What is this?",

"Just something I whipped up." she said,

"But something's in here! And it's not dead!

She looked at me with pitying eyes,
"Darling, please. Now realize,
Bodies twitch, even when they're dead.
So don't complain, you got the head!"

"The head of what?" I ventured to say,

"Your hamster, Fred, who died today."

The Bacon Poem

In high school, I wrote a few silly poems and brought them to share with classmates. At the time, we were suffering through studies of pretentious poets I couldn't stand. In response, I attempted to provide an alternative to their cryptic, calculated verse.

The Bacon Poem

You taste so good,
With fat a-drippin',
And in the pan,
You're finger-lickin' (good),
I never cook you,
In portions meager,
You hiss and pop,
Which makes me eager,
To chomp you down,
With eggs and toast,
But I love you bacon,
I love you most.