There once was a poet named David.
Night and day, on this blog, he slave-id.
But one Saturday, hazy,
He felt rather lazy,
So to the temptation of limericks he cave-id.
Alas, he still had no ideas.
This was one of his great fea’s!
Poems aren’t noisy.
He spelled fear like a guy from New Joisey,
And he screwed up his meter/shed tea’s.
And thus I do finish this post.
It has few worthy features to boast.
But I’m tired and stuff,
And this is probably enough,
So dear reader, these limericks are toast!
5: Spider Man
Well, yes, he is a hero.
That is good and well,
But this is spidey’s evil twin,
And like spiders, he’s scary as hell!
4: The Licenser
The Licenser is an insidious one.
He makes you wait in line.
He restricts your access to cars and guns
And he also makes you wait in line.
(Did I mention the waiting in line thing)?
3: The Pizza Delivery Boy Killer
No, he doesn’t kill delivery boys.
He eviller than that.
He poisons the pizzas you order in
With carbohydrates and saturated fat.
2: The Baby
Loud, obnoxious, and stinky,
It’s a villain with a potent defense:
You cannot kill a baby.
That’s just common courtesy. Such is the pretense.
And Finally:
1: The Internet
It’s said that most Americans
Are on the web 2.5 hours a day.
That’s 9.6 percent of your life.
Let me put it this way:
If you live to be one hundred years old,
You’ll only live to be 90.
Don’t believe me? Well look at your screen.
You’re on the internet, and it’s kicking your hiney.
Filed under Poems
Roses are red,
Violets are purple.
If you’re seeking bad poems,
I’ve got a curple.
Roses are red,
Violets are not.
But they share one addiction:
They can’t live without a pot.
Some roses are red,
Some roses are white.
I forget about violets,
But nobody gives a s***.
Filed under Poems
The most important thing you do
As I parent I expect
Is naming your child in a good way,
So they will live a life that’s correct.
If your last name is “Handbasket,” don’t name your kid “Helena.”
If your last name is “Cummins,” don’t name your kid “Dick.”
If your last name is “Cox,” don’t name your kid “Maya.”
If your last name is “Shaw,” don’t name your kid “Rick.”
If you do these things, your child will be fine
As long as when your pregnant you don’t drink too much wine.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
Today, Americans remember
One of the greatest travesties to befall our nation.
We may review footage from the crashes
And to patriotism, pray for salvation.
But patriotism is not the lesson I learned from 9/11.
I don’t look at the events that occurred as why America must win at the expense of others.
In those attacks, 2,996 people lost their lives.
In the 11 years that followed, war has made 7,977 grieving mothers.
If we learn anything from 9/11,
Let it be that revenge does not pay.
That we may be terrorized, but not terrified.
That we can choose if tormentors get their way.
No matter what menace may strike us,
Whatever liberties they hope to take,
Whatever towers they may destroy,
Whatever impact they hope to make,
They cannot take our ability to choose joyfulness,
To be happy under a new moon as well as the sun,
And if we have joy, our tormentors lose.
Because of hope, not revenge, we won.
Filed under Poems
Dear readers, I am pleased to say
That on this wildly average day
I post this poem here for you.
It’s my hundredth post. Yes, it’s true!
I’ve talked of love and monkey bars
And written some terrible stuff about cars.
But today I write another note to you
To give my thanks, and ask something too.
What is it you like about
This blog right here? Just shout it out!
Do you prefer the parodies?
Do you prefer the melodies?
Do you enjoy the serious stuff,
Or do you prefer the puns and fluff?
Is there a poem you wish you’d seen?
I want your preferences to glean!
So please let me know what you think.
And I’ll continue to write and dink
On this forum for all to see.
I’ll be back tomorrow, so thank you.
-Me
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
A cop from Detroit had a tazer
That he hid underneath his blazer.
He was good in a fight
Until one dark night
When he was killed by a guy with a laser.
There once was a man from Currant
Who gave trousers as gifts to his Aunt.
The pants tore in half,
And he ran like a calf,
But in the end he gave only one pant.
There once was a lady from Maying
Who wore yoga pants that were fraying.
To me it did behoove
That I saw the lips move
But I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
Filed under Poems
When life is dull and boring,
And your mind is full of snoring,
And your sanity has lost it’s mooring,
We turn to solitaire.
It’s a stupid little game
Of cards. though having fame
The hobby is still rather lame.
The hobby of solitaire.
And now I’ll announce this:
(Correct me if I miss)
No one has fun in the abyss
Of desperation called solitaire?
Maybe when you were five,
And the game was so alive!
So fresh and new, the jive!
The jive of solitaire.
And so this poem ends.
Did it have a point? Depends
On how your viewpoint bends.
Now I’m leaving, for solitaire.
Under the light of the moon
In a restaurant in June
A brand new chef prepares a steak.
He brazes it well,
And basks in the smell.
He decides to take a break.
But that chef forgot
The burner was hot
And the meat burned like the sun
That chef’s mistakes,
They razed the steaks,
And I hope you enjoyed the pun.
Filed under Poems
Did stand-up tonight
Thus this rushed little haiku.
My apologies.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
The Daily Travesty 