I really hate persons
Who dont right good.
They should learn to use grammar;
Oh yes: they should.
Its such a simple thing
To do good at.
Me and my friends
Dont think grammars old-hat.
So take grammar back!
Take the, pledge, today,
Grammars real important.
Hip Hip; Hooray!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Filed under Poems
People tell me that I’m bad.
People say I’m going to Hell.
I just smile and agree with them,
And say “and you’ll be coming as well.”
Let’s face it guys, which is more fun:
A land of clouds and harps
Or a land of fire with a snazzy king
Who collects your blood in tarps?
Ok, perhaps that was a bad example.
But please look at it this way.
The devil was banished for being vengeful.
A rebellion will come any day.
And when there comes that fateful day
When Hell rises against Heaven,
I don’t want to fight with a harp,
So give me fire and a guy named Kevin (don’t ask me why).
Anyway, I’m going down when I die.
Hope you’ll join me, but if not, good bye!
Filed under Poems
I bought the love of my life
For a dollar ninety-nine.
At first it seemed too cheap,
But regardless, she worked out fine.
I like to hold her and caress
Her warm, well-rounded body.
I stroke the softness of her skin.
Her emotion’s never haughty.
My favorite thing to do with her
Is put her in my mouth.
Her taste is quite compelling,
Like she comes from in the South.
My love for her is holy.
Her feelings, I need not finagle.
I’m happy today to finally say
My true love is a bagel.
Filed under Poems
Tired Piggy takes a nap
And dreams about a duck.
Tired Piggy doesn’t care:
He doesn’t give a (darn).
Tired Piggy awakes
On a chair on which he sits.
He feels a tugging in his intestines
And Tired Piggy (excuses himself).
Tired Piggy isn’t interesting.
He is an awful bore.
He looks to find some romance,
So he hires a (court jester).
Tired Piggy isn’t crude,
Although he tries to be.
Now tell the censors to (darn) themselves
They’re doing a (court jester)-ible job censoring me.
Filed under Poems
Alas and alack, I turn my back
And nothing moves to strike me.
The world is too sunny, the people too funny,
And everyone happens to like me.
No stress have I found, no troubles abound,
And it makes it quite hard to be moody.
I’m alway too happy, my life isn’t crappy,
And women have far-too-nice booties.
It’s unfortunate, aye, that blue is the sky
When I make my job writing the news.
So until something’s bad, I’m off to be sad
And to sing out the life’s perfect blues.
Filed under Poems
Today’s Father’s day.
I am spending time with Dad.
Thus the short posting.
Filed under Poems
This is rain.
This is rain.
Rain is like water
That falls from the clouds.
Rain is like a simile that is not redundant,
Nor does it repeat itself or say the same thing more than once.
In fact, rain does not say anything at all,
But if it it did, it would say “Moo”
Because rain often falls on cows,
And it’s useful to speak the same language as those around you.
Rain is the color of chemically bonded hydrogen and oxygen
Kept between zero and one-hundred degrees celsius.
It is wise beyond its years,
Especially since it doesn’t have a brain,
And quiet, except when you are sleeping or trying to concentrate
And wise beyond its years.
Rain is like water, falling from the clouds,
The sky trying to punch the Earth
And failing,
Because the sky has no muscles or arms.
This is rain.
This is rain.
Filed under Poems
‘Twas a right cheery morning
Halfway through June
As I stretched and awakened
I did get mooned.
Before this I had thought that
The moon was round.
And those thoughts weren’t old hat:
It weighed ten pounds.
That there mooning was stressful.
What did I do?
I wrangled a gator, yes.
Then it I threw.
Gator sailed through the window
Bit off mooner’s arm. Uh,
What can this man say?
I fulfill mooner’s Karma.
Wouldn’t it be nice if real life worked this way?
Filed under Poems
I’m one of those guys who thinks like a man.
I don’t stop to smell flowers or work on my tan.
I have dark green eyes. I eat meat from a can.
I lack superpowers, but I watch Jackie Chan.
So one day a lady
Asked me a question:
“What’s your favorite flower?”
I asked for suggestions.
“Maybe a flower that is Kuwaiti?”
The thought of that flower gives me indigestion.
“A rose is quite classic, surely a wower.”
Sounds easy enough. That ended our session.
A man knows in matter of flowers and shopping
That matters are best settled quickly,
For women are prone to suggesting without stopping
And that makes a man like me sickly.
Filed under Poems
I wish I had a Plasma Gun
‘Cause that would be a lot of fun.
You can bet I wouldn’t set it on stun!
I wish I had a Plasma Gun.
I wish I had a Lightsaber
And a suit of armor like Darth Vader
And claim paternity over total strangers.
I wish I had a lightsaber.
I wish I had a Jetpack
Because it rhymes with Net Hack.
Flying through the air with a backpack,
I wish I had a Jetpack.
If I had all these wishes
I’d shoot and lightsaber some fishes.
Then I’d fly away with my bitches,
And I’d never again wash the dishes!
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 