Monthly Archives: July 2016

This Poem Is As Funny As You Are

Why did the [subject]

[action in past-tense]?

Because [satisfying irony],

But that’s just my two cents.

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Thank Very Much For Financial Consideration

If I were a Nigerian prince

With a million bucks to spare

I’d buy all the world’s balloons

To fill with mountain air,

Then withhold them from the peasants

Instead of sending cash to you

‘Cause that’s a dick decision

And it’s what dictatorial princes do.

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Watching Samuel Beckett






Yes, you really did pay money for this…




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The Wife And Mr. Chicken

No one warms my heart like you do,

For three minutes on medium heat.

Our families and neighbors judge us harshly

But I’m glad, to you, I’m just a piece of meat.

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Alas, I Have Succumbed 

I broke a lifelong promise

And I signed up for Twitter.

I did it without fireworks

And very little glitter.

I probably won’t post too much

But you never know.

May as well go follow me

To read the end of this po…
David Kappele @Daily_Travesty

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At Least They’re Gramatically Correct

Once again I’ve been so busy

Doing other things

That I struggle to write a poem

Before the new day rings.

I’d say the quality suffered

But to do so would be a sin

For these poems had no quality

With which to begin.

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Why There Are So Many Non-Christians

And on the seven-million-fourteenth day

The Christian God said “let there be

“An era of slow internet.”

No other explanation do I see.

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Maybe I Should Quit Looking Online

My perfect girl is tallish,

Between 4’6″ and 6’11”.

She’s morally relatable,

Bound for either Hell or Heaven.

My perfect girl has two eyeballs,

Or maybe one or three.

They could be green or blue or brown

Or red. It’s all good for me.

My perfect girl has some fingers

And a near-equal number of toes.

I’m sorry that I have to be picky

But she must have fewer than two torsoes.

My perfect girl comes in all shapes

Yet all I seem to find

Are the 7’0″ five-yellow-eyed, limbo-bound, poly-torsoed

Asymnetrically-finger/toed kind.

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Expect Many More Of These :-)

Some days I write a poem

That’s actually very good,

The day after which I struggle

To write something equally good

But then I rhyme a word with itself

And it goes off the rails from there

And I realize no matter what I do

It’s not going to be as good

So I relax and quit trying.

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My Evenings In A Nutshell

A few minutes ago

It was ten o’clock

And I yawned as I started for bed.

Now five minute later

It’s midnight

And awakeness is filling my head.

You may think I’m lying,

That physical science

Will prove that this poem’s untrue

But I beg to differ.

It’s a sterling example

Of what late-night Youtube binging can do.


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