Sometimes you make a plan A, B, and C
But the world just is what it chooses to be
And while we can see it as a half-full cup
Sometimes it’s more fun just to mess some stuff up!
On somewhat of a tangent, I’m really keen
On the idea of making a time machine
That does a time loop, Groundhog Day style
And mess some stuff up for an infinite while.
You’re consequence-free for a lifetime or two,
Testing out various versions of you.
Don’t like the result of a particular day?
Just jump off a cliff and try a new way!
And if you are sad knowing this isn’t real,
Believe me, I get it! I know how you feel…
So think of it this way (This gets kinda heady)
You’ve been in and finished a time loop already.
You’ve lived endless lives of the same day again
And you’ve kissed all the ladies and shot all the men
And learned Japanese and solved nuclear fusion
And finally came to a stunning conclusion:
With infinite time, with no way to fail,
With no threat of death, embarrassment, jail
Your life loses meaning if you only win it
So you used your last time loop to think for a minute,
Inventing a button that made time go back
To a day at a time, with a total lack
Of memory concerning your endless days
Of repeating your time in all different ways.
You’ve already learned that making mistakes
Is sometimes exactly what happiness takes,
But if you still need to shoot a TV
To burn some frustration, that’s alright by me!
Filed under Poems
You’re nervous when you look upon
Her soft, humid curves.
You want nothing more than to
Give all that she deserves
And even as your fingers shake
When you touch her humid walls
The warmth deeper within her
To all your instinct calls.
Trembling, you go inside
And hear her many sounds
As wave and wave again
Against her body pounds.
You know whatever happens
You must not be seen…
Some of you thought of your girlfriend,
But this poem’s about a submarine.
Filed under Poems
Sometimes you drive
To somewhere about
The middle of nowhere
And you go without
Cellular service
Or the internet.
I’m on my way there
So this poem’s all you get.
Filed under Poems
If I had a pet stegosaurus
I think I would name it Boris
And until someone finked
That he was extinct
My family would really adore us.
There once was a five-year-old child
Who was happy, and ran somewhat wild.
This continued unabated
Because the child wasn’t medicated
And thus several lawsuits were filed.
Filed under Poems
Portable DVD player
Why are you useless?
You should make life easier
But instead cause us stress.
I wish I could shoot you
In the face with a gun
But you don’t even have a face…
Another reason you’re no fun.
I’m writing this ode to you
As a professional IT person
Tries to make you work at all
Yet the situation does still worsen.
You are naughty, bad, and stupid
And a big mean jerk
But I’d rescind those judgements
If you’d just freakin’ work.
A part of me is fearful now
This poem will not end
Because you are our tech enemy
And not our entertainment friend.
Don’t you see the pain you’re causing
Readers of this blog?
All this to watch a DVD…
What a somber slog.
I would skip ahead in time
To tell you how this ends
But if we made a graph of progress
And analyzed the line of trends
I think the universe would end
In heat death before long
So just sing this poem over and over
Like the 99 bottles of beer song.
Filed under Poems
Horsey horsey, riding in circles,
Pooping and snorting and chewing on grass.
Horsey horsey, tired of people
Comparing each other to your lovely ass.
Horsey horsey, with shoes made of metal,
Hair on your neck, your face, and your butt.
For some reason women all seem to love you
You’ve something I don’t, but I can’t think of what…
Filed under Poems
Everything’s better with blankets!;
That’s an objective fact!
If someone says “No thanks, I’m good”
Something in their brain has cracked.
Everything’s better with blankets
Because they are fuzzy and warm.
You have one when born, as a kid, and so on
Until you move into a dorm.
Whether a fleece or a quilt or a sheet
Or a comforter or a duvet
A blanket inspired the doer of everything
To say an emphatic “Yay!”
Everything’s better with blankets
And that’s the precise reason why
You should never ask me what is
The secret ingredient in my pie.
Filed under Poems
Whenever a poem begins with “tonight”
You pretty much know it’s no good
So this morning I’m writing early
Because I figure I should.
The problem is autobiographical poems
Are also universally mediocre
So maybe instead of being a poet
I should take up professional poker?
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 