Monthly Archives: June 2017

Oxymoron Of The Week: Religious Humor

A religious type of joke

Is often what offends

An amazing group of people’s

Imaginary friends.

I will mock all religions

In this poem I now write

Except, or course, for Islam

‘Cause I’m flammable and white.

I saw a gay pride event

As I was walking to my car.

They’d gathered ’round the Catholic Church

So the priests needn’t walk too far.

I wanted to amuse a Jewish bloke

And so I took a stab. I

Think they might have laughed had I

Not tried to high-five the Rabbi.

I met a “spiritual but not religious”

Person just the other day.

I asked them “is my latte ready?”

They said “yes, now go away.”

I’m not sure about Agnostics.

If Skeptics have jokes, I don’t know ’em.

The Buddhists suffer eternally

Whether or not they read this poem.

I want to end with one last joke

To make you giggle or scoff:

Don’t get circumcised on a budget

‘Cause it might be a rip off. 

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Yes, And: Suicide Prevention

I said to my therapist

“I want to end it all,

To solve all of my problems

With a gun and/or a fall.”

My therapist nodded grimly,

Stared up at the ceiling fan,

And said “well, you’ve convinced me.

Thanks a million, man!”

In the end, I didn’t kill myself,

As nice as that would be

‘Cause when I die another problem

Will be waiting there for me.

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Best Wishes From Everything You’ve Ever Signed

I lay in bed one humid eve

When through the window came

A mysterious hooded figure

With neither face nor name.

He tied me to my bedframe,

Shaved my head and ate my food,

Downloaded my shopping preferences

And data about my mood.

He stole my cash and passwords

And he burned all my receipts

Then showed me banner advertisements

For Sprint and flannel sheets.

He listened to my phone calls

And sold recordings to Taiwan.

These unusual torments

Lasted all the way ’til dawn.

He changed my LinkedIn profile

And made me look inept,

Then left a calling card which said

“Read before you click Accept.”

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The Kinda-Mostly-True Life of Bobby Fischer

I was a child prodigy,

A master at young age,

A Grandmaster at age seven,

A prepubescent sage.

Yet time passed by and I got old.

My skills increased as well,

Yet now that I’m a grown-up guy

I’ve lost the magic spell.

Instead of great, unique, and wise

I’m seen as “kinda lame,”

Forty years old, I’ve spent my life

Playing an old board game.

So what happened? What really changed?

Is greatness not enough?

When I was young my life was ease,

But now my life is tough?

It seems as if flying around,

Moving pawns on a board,

Winning trophies and title bouts

Is more impressive when you’re four?

Well then, screw that! I’m done with chess!

I’m moving far away

To be a scary racist hermit

And with myself I’ll play!

But now they call me back to play

A world championship game.

The cold war hinges on my success;

Such is the price of fame.

But afterwards I’m gone again

And that’s just fine with me.

My only hope’s that they will make

A movie about searching for me.

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East/West > North

When I grow up

I’ll be famous and rich,

Just like the writer

Of “Lilo and Stitch.”

I’ll be a performer

Or some type of magnate.

I’ll be a leader, a champion…

It’ll be great!

Growing up’s so exciting

I’m just ready to burst!

On the other hand, maybe

I’ll grow sideways a bit first… 

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Three Films For The Dork Lords On Their Basement Thrones (LotR)

We’ve all seen movies

That we adore.

We’ll watch them ten times,

Then ten more!

Sure, you know it

Line for line

But that’s not boring!

That’s just fine!

These films are family,

Allies, friends.

We love their journeys

Despite familiar ends.

To love such things

Need not be wrong,

But alas, my favorites

Are 12 hours long…

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Stanzas 2, Thought 0

When I moved into

The mobile home park

I thought my life

Was turning dark,

But I found pleasure

As I sought paying labors

In the form of melo-

Dramatic neighbors.

If you say “hello”

They say “Hail traveler!”

You say “I like Charizard,”

And they say “I love Graveler!”

It’s like they’re in a movie,

So although my life’s a failure

I take solace in the fact

They’re a theatrical trailer.

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Post First-Date Form Letter V 1.0

In fair Verona, long ago

Lived fair Juliet and her Romeo,

Two kids who, about each other, raved

And whom better communication skills could have saved.

For in a land where alchemists

Can make you look dead if your parents are pissed

Informing your partner of your choice to partake

In such a substance is a wise choice to make,

But neh! Knowing better, the 15 year old

Pair of lovers thought the others needn’t be told.

And thus was a theatrical masterpiece born

To suffice in an era with no access to porn.

This is why I didn’t call;

I just want our love to conquer all.

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Who Needs Memory Anyway?

“Clumps of dainty silver bones

Mixed amidst the silent stones

Are bathed not in blood or tears

But in the light of yesteryears.”

I don’t know the meaning of that verse,

If it be blessing or a curse,

But it’s tattooed on my forehead

Which is why I no longer drink before bed.

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Dream Job: Real Housewife Of Poetry

The time for meta poetry

Has come again it seems.

This blog, over the years,

Has become a thing of dreams.

That’s not to say it’s excellent

(Or even good, per se),

But that if life were like this blog

I’d be happy every day.

If consistency of talent

Were optional for work…

If people liked me purely

For my ability to be a jerk…

If things without a reason

At least would have a rhyme…

Yes, if life were like this blog

We would have a groovy time.

Amidst the inevitable collapsing

Of society in such a world

We would laugh and we would smile

As the universe unfurled.

Mediocrity would rule supreme

Were we to go that far,

And thus I’m moving to LA

To be a reality TV star.

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