I got a letter in the mail
From a Jehovah’s Witness
Which explained God’s will to me
And wished me mental fitness.
It told me, “God is watching
“And he’s offering you a lift,”
And yet I’ve seen no news
About the death of Taylor Swift…
Category Archives: Poems
Of Birds and… Other Stuff
The sun was a brilliant scarlet
Upon the rustling brush,
Redder than a hemorrhoid
Who’s asking out its crush.
Within the brush are little jays,
Their feathers dark and blue
Much like the mood experienced
When one eats eyeball stew.
The birds were eating insects
So tiny and so green
Like little child soldiers
Or polytetrafluoroethylene.
The birds, thus having eaten
Flew off to sunset orange.
Alas, this leaves no conclusive rhyme
But judging by the imagery of previous examples, I doubt you’re disappointed.
Filed under Poems
History Is Written By The Famous
Sleepy, Happy, Dopey, Sneezy
Bashful, Grumpy, and Dock
Mined all day to earn their pay
From 8:00 to 5:00 o’clock.
With seven salaries they paid
The rent for one small shack
And thought this was the status quo
Because the dwarves were black.
Then this white chick comes along
And they’re all like “Hi ho!”
Then she’s like, “OMG you guys,
“My name’s like totally Snow.”
And so she took their home away
And even ate their fruit
Before she slept for free a while
‘Cause hey, the chick was cute!
She slept upon the eighth dwarf’s bed
Who never was alerted.
So says the spurned, forgotten dwarf
Whose name is Introverted.
Filed under Poems
A 2020 Haiku
This year’s a blizzard:
Too many snowflakes appeared
And we all miss work.
Filed under Poems
Very Grounded
The loyal tortoise ambles
Through a forest full of brambles
Where once a meadow full of flowers flourished,
Where once the stamens danced
And petals bright entranced
Now a harsher foliage is nourished.
The tortoise tries a bite
Of whatever plant’s in sight
Its mouth enduring savagery and pain
For the aged tortoise knows
That they who seek a rose
Will, in the process, find that thorns they gain.
The tortoise eats its pick
Though much may make it sick
In hopes of finding what it thinks is lost.
The tortoise chews and bleeds
Just to satisfy its needs,
To find its rose regardless of the cost.
Somewhere amid the brush,
In a pocket, dark and hushed,
A seed emerges from the salty soil.
Its leaves taste stale air,
But the seed does not despair
For beauty never grows bereft of toil.
Someday the rose will bloom
And emerge amidst the gloom.
Perhaps the tortoise finds it after all.
Fearless are the plants of old,
Or so another tortoise told
In tales to seeds and to the ones who crawl.
Filed under Poems
Before 🙂 Was A Thing
This means you’re happy 🙂
This means you’re sad 😦
This means you’re an anarchist (:
This means you’re the dad :$
Filed under Poems
Weird Flex But Okay…
Apparently in America
You show black folks you care
By taking a day off of work
And taking sports off the air.
You have moments of silence
Which shows you have the gall
To literally demonstrate support
By doing nothing at all!
Filed under Poems
Sponsored Poem (With Video)!
Some folks can write greeting cards
And some folks can write songs.
Some folks can write poetry
Addressing social wrongs.
Some folks are very talented
While some folks just get by,
But on another level down
You’ll find, alas, this guy.
So how’s a lousy poet
Find a way to make ends meet
When the greatest poets in the world
Are starving in the street?
One way’s to get better,
But that’s just not my way.
The other is to advertise
For anyone willing to pay.
Those who sponsor poetry
Are sadly not so numerous…
I thus present this advertisement
With hope you’ll find it humorous.
Filed under Poems
Compound Disinterest
Back in the age when wealthy folk
Made twenty cents an hour,
The internet was in morse code,
And photographs were dour
A strapping lass of 25
Dug up a hidden stash
Of gold bouillon from Mexico
Worth $20 million cash.
She put it in a bank account
That earned an APR
Of 65 percent a year
And traveled wide and far.
A hundred thousand years went by
And humans passed away,
But in an old abandoned bank
The fortune’s there to stay
Until some alien arrives
And withdraws so many bucks
That the number almost equals
How much I think soccer sucks.
Filed under Poems
Typical Bird Answer…
A young male eagle was hunting
And swooped down on a dove.
He asked his girl, “What now?”
And his girl squawked, “Eat prey, love.”
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 