Category Archives: Poems

The String Theory of Christmas

‘Twas the night after Christmas

And the night before too…

Santa worked with the time machine

‘Til he turned blue,

For he needed to ship out

A few billion presents

To all of the children

Of all of the peasants.

The flux gear grew wonky

(Which you’ll see is not great)

And entangled poor Santa

Into some quantum state.

For Santa existed

And yet he did not,

As is demonstrable by

Some guy “Schroedinger’s” thought.

And so if you ask

“Mama, is Santa flying?”

She should say “yes AND no,”

Or else mama is lying.

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If You Can Read This, Don’t Bother

Today is a holiday

As you likely know.

I ate. Now I’m lazy

So I’m gonna go.

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When Your Vocabulary Is Larger Than Your Target Audience

‘Twas Christmas Eve morning

And one hirsute hyperborean

Was done making toys

And now streaming “The Mandolorian.”

In a matter of hours

Gifts would be delivered on-time.

Meanwhile, one naughty poet

Was pleased with a rhyme.

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Allie Be Like “OMG It’s Like They’re Reading My Mind!”

A twenty-year-old white girl asked

Why mice seek out a trap.

Then she smiled and sang along

To ALL the gangster rap!

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Relationship Goals

Two years ago on Sunday

I looked into her eyes

And promised her I love her

And I’m not like other guys.

One year ago on Sunday

I met with her and said

I’d fly us both to Venice

And we’d never leave the bed.

And now this year on Sunday

I’ll ask her to be my bride

And maybe this time she’ll says yes

And I’ll feel good inside!

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How Important Is The Vaccine?

.00000005

Is the percent of Americans infected during this pandemic.

.00000005

Is evidence corruption is systemic.

If a million people gathered in a single room

And .00000005 percent got sick as hell

Then of the million gathered there would tell you

One twentieth of one of them might feel a bit unwell.

.00000005

Is a number sixteen syllables long.

And yet it shut down the world for a year

And you ask me what I think is wrong?

Sources:

Population Clock –

Census.gov/popclock

New York Times –

Nytimes.com/interactive/2020/us/coronavirus-us-cases.html

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1-17 Are Just Slime… 19-100 Are Escargot

When my car won’t work

Because something is faulty

I tend to get angry

Or, some would say, salty.

Yes, salt and rage fill me

Whenever I fail…

That’s reason 18

I’m glad I’m not a snail.

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At Least The Pills Are Small

If you’re an ant

And you just can’t

Because of your upset tummy

So you eat a tum

And murmur “yum”

Because you’re not a dummy

But then you’re sad

And feel bad

And wish the pain hadn’t pass-ed

You take a bite

That feels right

Of an ant-anti-antacid.

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Some People Get Paid Millions For This…

If you have a friend who is male

Here’s a game that will never get stale:

Find a sports team or three,

Guess who’ll win, disagree…

You’ll be right half the time without fail!

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Tomato, Tomahtow

My sister called me self-disciplined.

I said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

She said, “You publish a poem EVERY DAY.”

I said, “That’s just low standards and a routine!”

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