You can’t get a job in gardening
If you are a snake.
Something about job history
And some Eve girl’s big mistake.
But I won’t let this prejudice
Go to my pointy head.
I’ll get a job in marketing
Or politics instead.
Category Archives: Poems
Serpentjobs.com
Filed under Poems
The Exterminator’s Creed
If it has two legs, I’ll greet it.
If it has four legs, that’s great.
But my favorite things have lots of legs
And a minimum of eight.
If it has two eyeballs, splendid.
One or zero is more on par,
But the more eyeballs the better
Especially if you can’t tell where they are.
It’s good that I have these preferences
Since my job title is “The Bug Guy.”
I love creepy critters in all shapes and types,
And especially making them die.
Filed under Poems
My Airport Song
I got to the gate
A little bit late.
It wasn’t my fault,
But simply my fate.
I woke up at five in the morning,
A two hour drive to begin
To reach the airport at nine A.M
For a work flight at noon to Berlin.
I’d accounted for all the surprises
And left time for those that I missed.
Or so I thought ’til my Maggy arrived,
Her temperament thoroughly pissed.
I got to the gate
A little bit late.
It wasn’t my fault.
It was mostly my mate.
Turns out my Maggy discovered
Her darlingness wasn’t exclusive,
Though I thought I’d kept my affairs
In Germany fairly elusive.
I managed to exit by quarter to six
With a bit of my Chevy un-smashed.
At quarter past six came the sirens,
Wondering where I had been when I crashed.
I got to the gate
A little bit late.
It wasn’t my fault.
It was Officer Kate.
The cops pointed out my transmission,
Amazed at how far I had drug ‘er.
I’ve never known cables so durable
Or Maggy’s skill with a Louisville Slugger.
My taxi arrived at eleven,
My hope not entirely shattered.
The cops sold my car at an auction
To benefit the domestically battered.
I got to the gate
A little bit late.
It wasn’t my fault,
But I made $398.
I arrived at the gate at noon-thirty
And saw my Boeing depart.
It flew off with my job and my meeting,
But it also flew off with my heart.
So I called up my sweetheart abroad
And cancelled what our evening implied.
Then I called my Maggy, two blessed hours away
And said, “Can you give me a ride?”
I stayed at the gate
Until it was late.
Thanks for listening honey.
Would you care for a date?
Summer’s Vacation
It’s a windy Autumn day
In the middle of July.
The wind blows piles of amber leaves
And I have to wonder why.
Perhaps the weather’s wardrobe
Is being washed today
And it has to wear replacement seasons
While its Summer is away.
Perhaps it’s due to climate change
And too little CO2.
If we all drive and pollute more
It’ll be warm like it’s supposed to.
And perhaps it’s just the way it is
And we should enjoy the cool.
Take some time for hiking
That might’ve been for the pool.
It’s a windy Autumn day,
But not per se a bummer.
It all depends upon how much
You love or hate the Summer.
Filed under Poems
Major Announcement
Hello dear readers, and dear writers too.
Boy do I have some big news for you!
Though this blog does fill my heart
And satisfy my passion for mediocre art,
I’ve decided to take it one step more.
Here is what I have in store:
I call it the Quarterly Travesty,
A publication made by me
That features works of comic strife
That infiltrates everyday life.
The Quarterly Travesty will debut
In September. Now, what’s in it for you:
I’m looking for writers to submit
Your comic creations, and I’ll publish it.
(This is subject to some conditions,
But you probably had such premonitions).
So if you’ve got a poem or two,
A bit of short fiction, comic strip, or cartoo’,
A letter, a joke, or whatever’s funny
That you want to see published, just send it to me.
For those whose comic preferences head
Not towards creation, but to reading instead
I’ll be publishing updates about the e-zine
Right here on the blog, Where it’s sure to be seen.
Please leave your feedback and what you’d like to see.
Your opinions are very important to me.
Thanks all for reading. You guys are the bomb!
(Send your stuff to thedailytravesty@yahoo.com)
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
Customer Service
I know folks are unhappy
When they come into the shop
With their car behind a tow truck
After an unexpected stop.
I know just why they take it out
On the guy behind the desk,
And in their frustration
Have need to vent about their mess.
I tried to work a grocery store,
And shops for clothes and tires,
Yet no matter what, the customers
Always brought their ires.
That’s how I came to work here,
In sales at Guns R Us,
‘Cause when there’s a rifle in your hands
Folks don’t make such a fuss.
Filed under Poems
English Minors
i wrote a novel about a guy
Who could do magic. Even fly.
But i dont now why it was rejected:
And i cant help but think “how unexpected”!
Filed under Poems
99 Bottles Later
I used to own a bar
Until the choir came to town.
They’d had an iffy concert
And they had sorrows to drown.
So they said, “How ’bout a beer?”
And from the wall I took one down.
I gave it to a tenor
Who then passed it aroun’.
And so this was repeated
For nearly a hundred bottles
With the choir singing all throughout,
Their dance reduced to tottles.
And then they left. My walls were bare.
My alcohol was gone.
But the thing I’ll never ever forget
Was that god-forsaken song.
Filed under Poems
Butter and Baseball
I am a designated hitter,
But I find my batting’s better
Than when I was avoiding butter
Trying to earn a varsity letter.
So perhaps this serves to show us
Maybe butter betters batting
And that chugging before slugging
Has effects besides the fatting,
But butter-bettered batting
Causes blatantly bungled bunting.
Perhaps my solution
Requires a bit of better hunting.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 