Sunday, September 26, 2010


It was too easy to write this poem
So I stopped and thought it over some
It was too hard not to write it
So I slumped in sad contemplation
Here’s what I thought:
Those broken bicycle wheels keep spinning
And the road to alien lands are winning
The pleasing tastes of our grandmothers’ pies
Are a sharp contrast to sexual lies
We needn’t bother with the gimpy legged troll
Or the long said wail of a dying foal
We can listen instead to politicians conflate
So that everything comes out as awful hate
How apt that schools teach us right from wrong
When all we really want is to move along
I cried with you when they fled last night
Because the crimson moon was an ominous sight
So always remember that when writing verse
It’s terrible to lie, nothing is worse
Honest as an ice cream truck by the side of the road
And if he won’t move along you’ve got to goad
So this is what I wrote 
This poem was too simple
Look at me now, look at my dimple
Would have made more sense
If I hadn’t thought about

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