Roses are red,
My car’s a two-seater.
Everything’s a piñata
If you’re not a picky eater.
Tag Archives: Bad
After 2029 It’s “2020: Anniversary Edition”
Some people think this year will be bad
Because it comes after twenty-twenty
But that’s objectively untrue.
If you want to find an equal
Just realize they’ve scheduled a sequel
Every year ’til twenty-twenty nine
Filed under Poems
When People Write In Nothing But Emojis
The longest month of springtime,
A ball that helps you see,
A band with too much makeup,
And a goat we named “Marie.”
I meant to be romantic
But she had no clue
That I was simply asking
“May I kiss you?”
📆👁🐼🎵🐐?
Filed under Poems
I Didn’t Finish This Poem… You’re Welcome
‘Twas the night after Kwanzaa
And all through the house
The whole family was stirring
But there was no male spouse…
Filed under Poems
If You Can Read This, Don’t Bother
Today is a holiday
As you likely know.
I ate. Now I’m lazy
So I’m gonna go.
Filed under Poems
How Important Is The Vaccine?
.00000005
Is the percent of Americans infected during this pandemic.
.00000005
Is evidence corruption is systemic.
If a million people gathered in a single room
And .00000005 percent got sick as hell
Then of the million gathered there would tell you
One twentieth of one of them might feel a bit unwell.
.00000005
Is a number sixteen syllables long.
And yet it shut down the world for a year
And you ask me what I think is wrong?
Sources:
Population Clock –
Census.gov/popclock
New York Times –
Nytimes.com/interactive/2020/us/coronavirus-us-cases.html
Filed under Poems
Modern Art
Harry stood on stage,
Took a deep breath,
And said, “The,” for forty days.
Every day another voice joined
For eleven and a half weeks.
On the forty first day,
Harry stood on stage,
Took another deep breath,
And said, “World,”
And the followers waited a day
Before echoing him.
And so it was that Harry
And the multitude who came after
Sang a round, “The World,” in eighty days.
Filed under Poems
In America!
“An apple a day
“Keeps the doctor away,”
Or so my mama said.
“You’ve got no cash
“So you’ll soon turn to ash,”
Is what doctors say instead.
Filed under Poems
Both are Mostly Empty…
“Airhead’s an offensive term,”
Said my girlfriend of 30 days.
I said, “Sorry, didn’t know.”
Now I call her “Bag of Lays.”
Filed under Poems
Oh No… OH NO!
I wondered what the worst news ever could be
And I finally have an answer:
It’s hearing your wife of 70 years
Tell you she has testicular cancer.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 