There are 54 cards in a deck,
And only twelve are royalty.
I feel sorry for the folks
Who are stuck as a two or a three.
I wondered what card I was:
I’ve not the talent to be an ace,
And I’m really not a joker.
Would I ever find my place?
And then strolling down the sidewalk
I found eight diamonds on the ground,
So I sold them. Now I’m rich
And I don’t worry about this crap anymore.
My throat is sore,
My voice is hoarse,
But at least now I know
I can’t speak Norse.
There’s a big pile of wood chips
Outside my apartment
Just three floors down
From my balcony.
Now Autumn leaf piles
Are my fun department,
And all that small timber
Looked just the same to me.
To I climbed three stories
To the roof of my flat
Thinking of stories
I’d soon have to tell.
In hindsight, I was stupid.
I realize that,
But despite the mistake,
My jump went quite well.
I’m writing this poem
From my private suite
At Saint Andrew’s center
For injuries from small boards.
I’m hosting some bloggers
Who seem pretty neat,
And they say they’ll refer me
To the Darwin Awards.
If you ever doubt that life is good,
Jump into a pile of tiny wood.
Filed under Poems
Today is one of my favorite days:
It’s National “National Day-Chooser” Day.
It’s the day on which we celebrate
The people whose choices will show us the way.
For without the wise guys who choose to define
National Beer Days, Peace Days, and more,
We’d just think it’s Thursday, and that would be boring.
As it is, the Day-Chooser makes our morale soar.
When I’m all grown up, it’s my dream to be
A National Day-Chooser. If that dream comes true,
My first act will be to define that day as
The day of “Someday-You-Might-Have-This-Job-Too.”
Perhaps if I make it to this goal I seek
I’ll be promoted to “Guy Who Picks Out The Week!”
Filed under Poems
They say he played the violin
With a sound that roused the spirit.
I traveled far, o’er hill and dale
Hoping just to hear it.
I was trulydisappointed
When I finally met the fellow,
For he played not the violin,
But the world’s smallest cello.
Filed under Poems
Your eyes are like storm clouds. Your hands are like starlight.
Your words are like raindrops on my hot tin roof.
Your body’s a fog obscuring the bar light.
You’re sunny one moment, but the next moment… Poof!
You flood me with passion and soak me with ardor.
I need an umbrella to hold back your love.
When driving with you, seeing the road is much harder.
I need to go buy a new rubber glove.
You’re my sleep in Seattle. You’re my plain in Spain.
You’re cute as a snowflake and big as the sky.
You keep me hydrated amidst stress and strain.
You make me gasp, and say “H2 oh my!”
Rainy day man, you are my silver lining,
And for your cumulus I always am pining.
But once in a while you need to go hide,
‘Cause I’m getting sick of just staying inside.
Filed under Poems
As loud as deaf people screaming
And mute people speaking their minds
In a concert hall ‘fore the music begins
While the mimes work their daily grinds.
And there I stand in the front of it
With a microphone in my hand.
I thought my jokes had been funny.
That’s the last time up-that-I-stand.
Filed under Poems
There was a farmer’s daughter,
And Gertrude was her name.
She didn’t turn out all that great.
Perhaps her parents were to blame?
Her smile was like curdled milk,
All thick and full of germs.
She ate the milk that fermented
With her best friends, the worms.
One worm in particular
Was a rapper by his trade.
One day he greeted her, “Yo Gert!”
And history was made.
So when you eat your Dannon,
Yoplait, Greek, or normal,
Remember Gert and the gangsta worm
And don’t be so darn formal.
Filed under Poems
There are very few problems
That cannot be solved
By a handful of raisins
And a baseball bat.
How do those fix it?
Is that what you said?
I was hoping you wouldn’t
Ask me that…
Filed under Poems
What comes up comes down.
If that’s true, then why won’t my
Frisbee leave the roof?
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 