Monthly Archives: January 2017

What Is Humor?

The quality of being amusing,

A mood or state of mind,

To comply with someone’s wishes

Or, to kids, the word “behind.”

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Some men are boob guys.

Some like hair and eyes.

Some seek butts from all across the globe.

Some go nuts for feet,

But what I think’s neat

Is a lady with some really nice earlobes.

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When You Don’t Fit In

I wanna be a henchman.

It’s  been my only dream

Since I popped out o’ mommy

And I made the doctor scream.

I wanna test inventions

Not safe for normal folks,

To be the head o’ suicide missions

And the butt of all the jokes.

I want a friend named Igor,

Or a dozen, or a horde.

I want to live a life that is

Too short to ever get bored.

I want to be a henchman,

A minion, grunt, or goon,

But I failed my test for Hensa

And couldn’t be certified as a buffoon.

Hence I am a villain,

Respected, hated, feared.

I still hang out with lowlifes

But my henchmen think I’m weird.

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Sex In A Pool

My heart skips a beat

As our bodies intertwine,

Her hands on my shoulders,

Her lips locked in mine.

Somewhere a small voice

Says “you can’t do that here,”

But my eyes meet my love

And away goes my fear.

Our clothes are all gone

And we get on our way.

The little voice speaks

But I shove it away.

The air fills with moaning,

With screams of my name.

Our love is the water,

Our passion a flame!

After what seems a lifetime

Our forms pull away.

I hope the rec center

Will let us come back some day.

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Mr. Toad Can Only Get So Wild

I know I’m frustrated,

A little bit mad,

Both happy and pouty

And yet somewhat sad.

I’m also ecstatic,

Romantic, and weak,

Like my heart is an ocean

With a slow drizzly leak.

My head spins like the plate

In a microwave oven

And I feel so unwelcome

Like Christ in a coven.

Somehow these feelings

Keep bubbling inside

When the UCLA intern

Says I’m too tall to ride. 

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The Evening Following Fido’s Emancipation

Tasty chunka meat

Sizzlin’ nicely on the stove.

Who’s “master” now, Bitch?

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A Very Factual Excuse

A monstrous weasel murdered me

Yesterday around 8:00.

It was rather inconvenient

Which is why this poem’s so late.

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Corporations Are Evil (Because I Want Them To Be)

“Corporations are evil”

I think as I buy my Special K

And hop in my Toyota

And drive to the YMCA.

“Corporations are evil”

Is what’s running through my head

While I surf Youtube on my iPad

From my new Sleep Number bed.

“Corporations are evil”

Helps me eat my Eggland’s Best,

Helps me get ready for work at Megatech

As in Prada I get dressed.

“Corporations are evil”

Is a truth you can’t deny

Because my friends say it on Facebook

Which means that so should I.

“Corporations are evil.”

Was that all I have to say? Check!

It helps me feel virtuous

As Wells-Fargo cashes my paycheck.

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When You Turn On “Predictive” Typing

The best thing I’ve seen 

The best thing I’ve heard 

Is the game and I have 

A little too hard for a littler.

The only problem I had 

Was just about a good game.

The only thing that is 

A bit weak but today is the best

Is your opponent;

This is how my phone says

“I’ll be home at 6:00. Love you.”

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When You Turn Off Aitocorrect

This line is italic.

Thia line is bold.

The bold line has a typi.

So does that ome.

Okay, I’m donr.

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