How the Government Stole Christmas November 22, 2011
Posted by Matt in poetry, politics.Tags: Congress, deficit, Democrats, Grinch, ineffectiveness, politics, President Obama, Republicans, taxes, US government
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(With apologies to Dr. Seuss)
The people
Of America
Liked their lifestyles a lot
But the Congress
On the extremes of America
Did NOT!
They fought over things both in and out of season.
Standing in gridlock for no particular reason
In anger they yelled and they screamed at one other
Taking shots across the room one after another
Maybe it was their head or perhaps their shoes
Or the inordinate time spent watching cable news
But,
Whatever the reason
Olbermann or O’Reilly
They stood at odds, plotting downfalls quite slyly
“Tax Cuts for the rich!” cried Republicans loud
Expecting a little to perhaps trickle down.
“It’s time to raise taxes on the top two percent!”
Yelled Democrats with a self-righteous bent.
With the deficit ballooning and no end in sight
The two sides stood firm with all of their might
The tea party and occupiers pushing from both directions
Ensuring the failure of every election
Compromise is not an option
Shouted opposing sides with glee
Unless you give up your convictions
And agree solely with me.
So as the country moves closer and closer to falling
It’s becoming clear we need someone who hears the calling
Someone looking for that missing middle ground
That is oh so elusive, but must be sought out and found
Some look to the President to stand tall, relieving fear
But they call him a Communist Muslim, you hear.
Others are chosen on the long campaign trail
But scandal always follows, and will likely derail
Who will take the reigns, to the challenge arise?
Will Congress’s heads and hearts increase in size?
Who will preside over the feast?
And be the reformed Grinch who carves the roast beast.
Ode to the Number Eleven November 11, 2011
Posted by Matt in poetry.Tags: bad poetry, eleven
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Eleven often stands alone
Looking jealously up at the throne
Of a perfect ten and a whole dozen
It’s almost like a no-good cousin
Eleven fingers won’t fit in
There’s no top eleven on Letterman
No one buys eleven eggs
Two insects don’t have eleven legs
No eleven days of Christmas cheer
Nor eleven months in one whole year
No eleven commandments in stone hewn
And eleven angry men won’t do.
Will eleven find a place to fit?
A spot in the cosmos to be writ?
Will it find its voice, be distinct,
Or will it simply become extinct?
Well, if you like your music loud, so loud it will hurt
And the volume of your amp no longer will work
Turn it past ten, to eleven with a snap
And save it for the sake of Spinal Tap.
Ode To The Guy in the Next Cubicle May 9, 2011
Posted by Matt in poetry.Tags: bad poetry, cubicle life, work
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The guy in the next cube keeps talking to himself
And I’m not sure what he’s saying.
He’ll mutter along, occasionally curse
I can’t tell if he’s angry or playing.
“What!” he will shout for all to hear
Then commence with indecipherable grumbling
So deep and so loud the temporary walls start to shake
With the force of his low voiced rumbling
Is he insane? Is he disturbed?
Or maybe perhaps schizophrenic?
Should I be at all worried, should I alert my boss?
Or remain just a bystanding cynic?
He stands up, he sits down as his voice ebbs and flows
An auditory tide in an ocean of sound
I look for a weapon, just in case the man snaps
And I’m forced to take the lunatic down.
Then I notice something that was hidden before
Jutting out on the side of his head.
A wireless earpiece for his work phone
And nothing that should cause me this dread.
So the mystery’s solved, the case it is closed
With nothing worthy of a beating
Now it’s time to end the bad poetry
And get to the next boring old meeting…
Sugar Bowl Poetry January 5, 2011
Posted by Matt in poetry, Razorbacks, sports.Tags: Arkansas Razorbacks, poetry, Sugar Bowl
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There’s a pall o’er the state of Arkansas
Not caus’d by falling birds
This dark state of grief and pain
Goes far deeper than words
For the mighty Razorbacks
Our beloved, red clad swine
Were turned away, defeated
In the backfield and on the line.
Tho’ they fought back valiantly
In a close contested second half
The receivers’ slippery fingers
Led to far too many gaffes
Coach Petrino looked disgusted
Like a man feeling quite sick
When Mallet heard the footsteps
And threw another pick
So, another year is o’er
Another season has been spent
And once again the Natural State
Is one of crushing disappointment
But all is not so dire
Yea, all is not so drear
For we still have Knile Davis
And there’s always a next year!
A Bit of Blake December 15, 2010
Posted by Matt in poetry.Tags: The Divine Image, William Blake
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The Divine Image
To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
All pray in their distress,
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.
For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is God our Father dear;
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love,
Is man, His child and care.
For Mercy has a human heart;
Pity, a human face;
And Love, the human form divine;
And Peace the human dress.
Then every man, of ever clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine:
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.
And all must love the human form,
In heathen, Turk, or Jew.
Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell,
There God is dwelling too.
- William Blake
Twas the Night Before Christmas…with Zombies December 2, 2010
Posted by Matt in Christmas, poetry.Tags: poetry, Twas the Night Before Christmas, zombie Santa, zombies
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Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
The children they slept, without thought of danger
Making a silent night, like Christ in the manger
Lying down by my wife, in warm pajamas in bed
I fluffed my soft pillow and lay down my head
When all of a sudden, I heard a loud crash
I jumped from my slumber, as quick as a flash
The red of the blood on the new-fallen snow
Made me shake with dread, and yell out a great “No!”
My eyes wide with fright, had just seen quite clear
A miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer
The little old driver was certainly dead,
For hanging to one side was half of his head
In his dead hands, he still held the reins,
But the only word that he would say was, “Brains!”
The reindeer were also too far beyond aid
Their teeth gnashing in an unholy parade
They landed on the roof with a crash quite sick
And I knew I would soon face zombie St. Nick.
I reached out and grabbed the poker for the fire
Just in time as dead Santa fell into the pyre
Taken back for a moment, I shook with fear
For Kris Kringle was missing an eye and an ear.
Blood stained the fur that trimmed his red suit
It ran all the way down into his black boot.
I lunged with the poker, right into his belly
His exposed brains shook like a bowl full of jelly
But he did not slow down, not even a pause
With a jerk he lunged at me, that old Santa Claus!
I slipped to the floor falling onto my back
And in a mere moment the dead elf did attack
I tried to fight, to call on God like a preacher
He merely bared his teeth, that unearthly creature
I heard him exclaim, as he bit my arm so raw
He didn’t say “Merry Christmas,” he only said “Bwaahhh!”
The Day After Christmas December 26, 2009
Posted by Matt in Christmas, poetry.Tags: day after Christmas, poetry
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‘Twas the day after Christmas, when all through the house
Bits of paper and ribbon and toys lay about;
Stockings lay empty on the living room floor
When they had been filled to bursting just two nights before
The children were up far too early and loud
With new Wii games and music nosier than a crowd
The tree stood tall and dark, a ghost of Christmas past
The Yuletide tunes are silent where once they would blast
High calorie foods left my guts in a bind
My movements lethargic and slow in the mind
I stumbled out of bed and stared at the mess
And all the cleanup ahead when I would much rather rest
I rubbed my eyes, contemplating the work it will take
Though I’m on vacation, I could sure use a break.
To Coffee August 26, 2009
Posted by Matt in poetry.Tags: coffee, poetry
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C is for the caffeine that fuels my every day
O is for your odor, a pungent smell to light the way
F is for your face, as black as darkest night
F again for family, for you and I are tight
E is for the enjoyment that I will not be denied
E for everlasting love with you right by my side
Ode to My Empty Office November 26, 2008
Posted by Matt in poetry.Tags: office, poem, thanksgiving, work
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Twas the day before Thanksgiving
And on my office floor
Lights were out, cubes were empty
The morning was a bore
I stared at my screen
Watching time slip away
Wondering when I could escape
For the rest of the day
The hallway is empty
With few voices to be heard
I want to leap from the window
And fly away like a bird
But, alas, I remain
In my desolate station
Just wishing I had
A few more days of vacation!
Presidential Primary Haikus March 12, 2008
Posted by Matt in haiku, Hillary, Obama, poetry, politics, President 2008.Tags: Democrats, haikus, Hillary, Obama, poetry, politics, president
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Somebody please shut up
That Geraldine Ferraro
Stop stupid comments
Barack Obama
Stays above the mud slinging
Defeats the Clintons
Counting Delegates
Hillary claims momentum
Barack says scoreboard
