In the future:
We’ll have hover cars that drive themselves
And women’s liberations
And continued economic growth
Among the Asian nations.
In the future, traffic accidents
Will have fewer survivors,
For the hover cars will be programmed
By Asian women drivers.
Filed under Poems
Hamburger, hamburger,
Object of desire.
Cheese, mayo, and pickles
Cooked on electric fire.
Under fluorescent glow
I bite the whole-wheat shell.
My heavy heart grows lighter,
And my pocketbook as well.
Filed under Poems
Somewhere in Denmark
Resides a cave
Where those thought to be dead
Live out their lives,
Where Elvis and dinosaurs
Frolic and play
With Erik the Red
And all of his wives.
But most of the caves
Is filled with Red Shirts
And half of the cast
Of “Game of Thrones,”
Along with unknown soldiers,
Shakespearean folk,
And all of the Jedi
Killed by the clones.
The cave’s getting crowded,
So Danes be aware
Of the incoming march
Of the shower-drain hair.
Filed under Poems
Did you hear the tale
Of the bulldog named Krupp?
If you have, crazy huh?
If not, look it up.
Filed under Poems
The reindeer grew impatient.
They’d not flown for a year,
And so had entertained themselves
With dirty jokes and beer.
The big night was six weeks away.
They wanted to hit the gym,
But they had to have permission from
The one, the only… Him.
So Cupid and Vixen volunteered
To do some good deer/bad deer
And get their training authorized
By mister snowy-white beard.
“Mista Claus?” Cupid asked
In her Boston reindeer drawl.
“Our bellies all got really big
And our muscles super small.”
The big red suit stayed silent
Giving no indication,
So Vixen thought the time was ripe
For some intimidation.
She leapt upon his table
And wished that she had antlers.
She smashed a few of Santa’s toys
And three vodka decanters.
Cupid saw it coming
But a few seconds too late:
Santa’s eyes got angry,
And Vixen was served on a plate.
Seven subdued reindeer
Resumed their aimless days,
Their hopes of strength forsaken
By the mounting Christmas haze.
Four weeks later, the seven awoke
To a burning reddish glare.
A red-nosed reindeer robot
Was flying through the air.
They knew at once they’d been replaced,
And that they’d have to go
To avoid poor Vixen’s fate,
Come the next Ho-Ho-Ho.
So somewhere in Alaska
Seven flabby caribou
Seek someone to fly away with them.
Perhaps it will be you?
Filed under Poems
The creators of “My Little Pony”
Have created a product for boys.
It’s fire truck red with side-mounted guns
And seventeen makers of noise.
The company calls it “My Big-ass Horse.”
In thirty-eight countries it’s banned,
Including America, which is why
I’m moving away to Japan.
Filed under Poems
The jolly roger flails
In the stormy winter breeze
Above a deck of scalawags
Afloat upon the seas.
The crew is cruel and vile,
Culled from horrors of the night,
Which would be very normal
If their captain weren’t polite.
He’ll pull aside a merchant ship.
His cannons towards it swivel.
He shouts, “Please share your vittles
“So we may all be civil.”
Perhaps his victims do suspect
He’s playing with their minds,
But his motto is “Just be yourself
“And the looting works out fine.”
Filed under Poems
One walks along the city streets,
Just trying to get some air,
Yet one can’t help but notice
All the girls who stop and stare.
One experiences this often.
If somewhere one does go
One’s glamor, wit, and glowing health
Make one a living show.
One wishes one could take a break
From being the perfect man,
So I guess I’m pretty lucky
That I’m not one, and I can.
Filed under Poems
As a kid, when I slept
And shut my eyes
After a long day of play
I did never surmise
That my play for the day
Would be my demise.
I remember the first
Of those nights of odd sort.
I slept on the floor, for
My sleep was cut short
When my bedding escaped
To the pillow fort.
I prepared to lay siege
To my fortified sheets.
I grabbed my nerf guns
And a few cans of beets.
I’ll have quite a mess
When my mission completes…
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 