Since I hear no clamor from publishers wanting to publish anything written by me, I have decided to publish my "poetry" here. I suspect it will make them look quite silly. That is, if this blog is on their reading list. Most of these lines appeared as throwaways on assorted Facebook groups. When you read them you will know why they were thrown away. Don't say I didn't warn you. "Oh Alright," you say, "Let me read…
One day, Little Red Writer decided to write poetry. Now, poetry is very hard to do. Little Red Writer was little and unschooled. He had some words in his bag and he wanted to show his words to his granny, Facebook. Little Red Writer knew that poetry has rules. These are to be followed and sometimes broken. LRW, as he was called by his dog, knew just enough rules to think he could hack it. LRW knew that poetry…
I wrote this poem for no reason For it's really just the season. This poem is quite small and it's very stupid and all. Tubetops, when they put these on you also get those bare knees on. You know this is really quite silly For I'm writing stuff willy nilly. You may exclaim "Oh Lord!" "He really is so odd!" It's not because of the terrain hilly Or a preponderance of rose and lily. In fact there…
I just explored a new career possibility as a painter. Which should surprise you, no? So far, as you know, I have displayed no artistic ability at all. I've taken the odd photograph, yes, with a couple of photo essays. One was about spring and the other was about fall. I have even showed you shaky video. There was also, an audio clip of me singing a Grateful Dead song, accompanied by me on my acoustic guitar. This…
You've said a lot. So have I. You've done a lot. Have I? I've thought a lot. So have you. I've tried a lot. Have you? You've hurt a lot. So Have I. You've worked a lot. Have I? I've cried a lot. So have you. I've smiled a lot. Have you?
Left home and my heart behind with our future on my mind. Just me? Only me? Seems it's me, not we. Looks like it's going to rain. Lord, I don't want that again. It's only me here. Could do with you here. But then, again, is that true? Will you paint my rainbow blue? I think it's just me. I know it's just me.
I cannot lie - it is I. I don't mean to boast or preen but it is true I shopped for shoes and wrote about my woes. The blog it is dry, the humour forced. The Pomes are silly and the stories long A rant or two - There's even a song And I love it. For mine it is and mine alone I gave it all it has and will atone for what I gave it…
He’s a good friend to me, he is.
Wherever I go he goes before me.
In a public urinal when I go to piss
He alerts me to dally not, but pee
quickly and get the hell out. (more…)
August is almost upon us. August brings with it the day the body that owns the authors on this blog was born. Yessirreee, The SloMan, The LastWord, LeggieLefty and the PeevedPunjabi were born in August. In order to celebrate, I am offering you an easy way to wish me well.
Instead of me writing a self-congratulatory birthday post, as I usually do, I am (more…)
