Tonight I logged onto my blog
Although the hour was late
And saw that people liked my post
Just called “5688”.
Apparently my mind designed
To make my memory marred
To the degree that writing out
A title was too hard.
But mind, I am resilient!
Your trick’s a hidden blessing!
Now I know how many posts
I’ve written without guessing.
So here’s to poem 5689
And the many more to come;
The great, the late, on every date
And, most of all, the dumb.
Filed under Poems
Fourteen years ago today
I published my first rhyme
And here I am, much balder,
Still writing after all this time.
When I was young and spritely
I’d write some fourteen lines
But now, older and wiser,
I think that eight is fine.
Filed under Poems
Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate
For thou hast used our deodorant spray
And got ten percent off with code “Sonnet”.
Sometimes too hot the eye of Heaven shines
But thy armpits know no unwelcome wet.
Aluminum and pareben free, thine’s
The finest deodorant on the net.
Thus thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor sweat defile the dryness of they blouse
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade
For thou art fresh as if stay’d in thy house.
This deal shall last not longer than a day
So click mine link affiliate and slay.
Filed under Poems
One day before you joined the world
Lufthansa airlines formed.
Then nothing historical happened for four days.
That’s because by being born
Our hearts were properly warmed
And the world sat back and let your glory blaze.
After you joined the world
Pope Pius X became a saint,
Which I know your Catholic interests already knew.
What was never told outright
Is that he was the second saint
To join the canon. Of course the other one was you.
After you came things like Velcro
And the integrated circuit.
By seven you could play with cordless drills.
Later on was born your man
And after that a Sony Walkman
Could give you on-the-go musical thrills.
So we’ve established that you’re old
But our hearts have not grown cold
Since your little saintly self did first appear,
So I wish a happy birthday
To my best and only mother
And wish that this will be your next best year.
Filed under Poems
If you really squint
You’ll get much better at math.
Sincerely, China.
Filed under Poems
If you play a sport
And you get to choose your team
Picking a poet first overall
Is smarter than it would seem.
If you pick a jock
You may score higher points
Thanks to their atheleticism
And overall healthier joints
But if you pick a poet
They’ll get injured within a minute
And then you don’t have to play sports
And that’s the real goal, innit?
Filed under Poems
The upside of old soldiers
In the abs and armor era
Having kids when they were 15
Is that they’d ensure they’d share a
Portion of their DNA
Despite dying in war
Because the guys who choose the front lines
Were rarely 24.
As a result, some children
Are descendants of the guys
Who ran headfirst into battle
Despite their lackluster size,
Their lack of wealth or breeding,
Their dearth of brawn or brain,
Exhibiting no hesitance
For their inevitable pain.
A dozen generations passed
And still their genes live on,
Ensuring the survival
Of their service-minded spawn.
My only wish is that these offspring
With mind and courage of a beast
Would stop running for office
(Or stop winning, at least).
Filed under Poems
Starry Summer night
My love in my arms, but then
My bladder says “Boo”
Filed under Poems
I hope someday AI
Will steal something I make
And put it on a motivational poster
That a kid will learn is fake
And that the insincere message
Will be that child’s final straw
And they’ll achieve cynical nirvana.
Is that a character flaw?
Filed under Poems
You are a man of quite unique good looks
And thus a person of value to see
But since you may not read a lot of books
Perchance you are not all you hope to be.
In contrast to the previous stanza
I urge you to consider: have a kid
For when you’re old like the show “Bonanza”
You’ll be very happy that you did,
For time is cruel to those who aren’t asian
And you’ll soon be wrinkly and unsightly
So get to work to not be a virgin
And pursue this mission every-nightly.
When you’re dead your kid will go on living
And your pretty face will keep on giving.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 