I wanted fried rice
At a very low price
Because I was poor and young.
What other excuse
Would I have for the use
Of a menu from “Meow Tse Tung.”
Category Archives: Poems
That Wasn’t Chicken
Filed under Poems
The Butler
A monocle, a violin,
A fancy tailcoat.
I held a tray the British way
And never did I gloat.
A ball and chain, a little cot,
A fancy jumpsuit too.
Everyone thinks I’m guilty,
And I bet that you do too.
So now I’m serving “Chef’s Surprise”
In the prisoners’ cafe.
And with each bow I think of how
To escape, the British way.
Filed under Poems
The Last Amiable Sheriff
Hi there partner!
I’m Sheriff Steve.
I like riding on my pony
To deter those who thieve.
I only carry a gun
For shooting bottles at the quarry,
But if that makes you nervous
Then I assure you, do not worry.
Because Sheriff Steve has other ways
Of detaining unlawful sorts:
A friendly smile, a stern “now, now,”
And some more witty retorts.
There’s little crime in this town of mine
So I’m doing a good job.
These were the last words of Sheriff Steve
As he greeted Outlaw Bob.
Filed under Poems
Single Parents
Creatures from the valley
And monsters of the sky
Meet once a year to celebrate
Somewhere around Shanghai.
They talk about their differences
And play some volleyball
And dance around a shooting star
And drink until last call.
Then they find a human folk
And roast them o’er the flame,
Because they’re monsters after all;
To not do so would be lame.
And having eaten, sinned, and all
They fly and dig back home.
Dad said that’s where mama went.
He read it in a tome.
Filed under Poems
Econ 400, Minute 1
Via obfuscatory principles
And derivative pomp
It is my imperative to greet you
To my academic romp,
Wherein the equilibrium,
Elasticities, and curves
Shall give M. Night Shyamalan
Envy of my topical swerves.
I do hope to saturate you
In the ways of Bayes and Nash
While displaying free-market principles
By trading good grades for cash.
Please infer your syllabus,
Or you shan’t this lecture win.
Now, like a prisoner’s dilemma,
To start, we must begin…
Filed under Poems
Throwing It Down
Fruit and soup
Adorn the floor.
Guess baby’s not hungry
Anymore.
Tipping Point
Twenty-five percent at breakfast,
And again for lunch and dinner.
It’s come as no surprise
That I am getting thinner.
Five dollars to the bus driver,
Ten dollars for the maid,
A fifty dollar dinner
If I’m wanting to get laid.
I’d tip my chiropractor,
But that isn’t apropos.
Sometimes I tip a homeless guy
I do not even know.
As you can see, I am
A very easy tipper.
Here’s a buck for reminding me
To examine my zipper.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
The Daily Travesty 