My poems have no mystery
They’re right here in your face
I’m going for your funny bone
A pit-bull on a chase
I throw in a point or two
This world is so effed up
Scooping up absurdity
And loading in my truck
Dumping here in plain sight
Though it was never hiding
Screaming out from everywhere
Deafening and blinding
Most just grab their Ray Bans
And go about their day
Grinding in their cubicle
Until the next pay day
Watching all the sportsball
Playing on the screen
Spilling chips and salsa
On their favorite jeans
Some go out for a run
iTunes in their ears
The same ones heard a million times
(Which would drive me into tears)
They’re training for a 5K
So they can join the team
And wear a sponsored T-shirt
To build their self-esteem
This poem turned out bitter
I didn’t see that coming
Strange, ‘cause I’m the writer
This pen, it just keeps running
Tapped into crazy ether
I think from Outer Space
Controlled by creepy Aliens
(They run the human race)
This finally would explain things
I often wondered about
Now I am quite certain
Quashing any doubt
That I really am a weirdo
Just like my mother said
The day I dressed like Superman
And jumped right off the bed
