I opened a bottle of root beer
And smiled at the sweetness and fizz.
You probably don’t think that sounds racist
But I’m white, so it probably is.
I opened a bottle of root beer
And smiled at the sweetness and fizz.
You probably don’t think that sounds racist
But I’m white, so it probably is.
Filed under Poems
I think if I were a nun
I’d want to carry a gun
‘Cause I wouldn’t enjoy
Being mistook for a boy
When the priest says he wants to “have fun.”
Filed under Poems
It took almost six whole years
But this blog has made it’s mark.
One-thousand and five subscribers
Have felt TDT’s spark.
It proves, with dedication,
Anyone can win it:
I did in 69 months
What a bikini-clad person does in minutes!
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
I love you
Like Japan loves tentacles,
Like psychos love murder
And goth teens love pentacles.
I love you
Like Chris Pratt loves his raptors
And people with Stockholm
Syndrome love their captors.
I love you
Like a farmer loves cattle,
Like that one guy you know
Loves leather and a paddle.
I love you
Like Tarantino loves gore
And it’s for these reasons
I can’t see you no more.
Filed under Poems
‘Twas the week before football
And all through the States
Everyone outside Boston
Came to terms with their fates.
So many Don’taes,
Tyrones, and Lamars
Checked if Wendy’s needed
Someone who could lift cars.
Meanwhile those lucky
To remain on their teams
Prayed the ACL gods
Would not ruin their dreams.
The fans were all cozy
Wrapped up on their couches
While the TV says who’ll be
The sleepers and slouches.
And a tenth of a billion
Mostly female folks
Didn’t see the appeal
Of tackling blokes,
Yet still two-hundred-million
Pulled on overpriced shirts
With the last name of someone
Whose whole body hurts.
They’ll sit back to watch
As the combat begins.
They’ll be happy as long
As their animal wins.
Filed under Poems
The itsy-bitsy spider
Climbed up the water spout.
Down came the fist!
It’s guts went spilling out.
Out came the kleenex
To wipe the guts away
And the not-so-puny human
Just went on with his day.
Filed under Poems
Her love made me warm and fuzzy
Like a bit of french cheese
Left in a sauna over the weekend
But, alas, she had fleas.
Filed under Poems
They mentioned becoming Jewish.
They said I ought and should.
Then the bris and lack of bacon came up
And Hell started to sound real good.
Filed under Poems
There are some people named “she”
Who want, to a man’s heart, the key
So they wear a disguise
For their tits, hips, and eyes
To find men who will “love me for me.”
Filed under Poems