If your name were Bedtime
And asked for a bedtime story
People might share anecdotes
Of you in all your glory.
Your children might get all confused
When it’s their rest-your-head time
And you ask them to ask you
“Tell me a story, Bedtime?”
Or say you want a lesson
In a subject like history
And you have to tell somebody
“Tell me, Bedtime, a story.”
One thing no one asks though
Is why Bedtime isn’t sad
When he tells the story of the time
He killed his mom and dad…
Filed under Poems
Some folks can write greeting cards
And some folks can write songs.
Some folks can write poetry
Addressing social wrongs.
Some folks are very talented
While some folks just get by,
But on another level down
You’ll find, alas, this guy.
So how’s a lousy poet
Find a way to make ends meet
When the greatest poets in the world
Are starving in the street?
One way’s to get better,
But that’s just not my way.
The other is to advertise
For anyone willing to pay.
Those who sponsor poetry
Are sadly not so numerous…
I thus present this advertisement
With hope you’ll find it humorous.
Filed under Poems
I like you
Like a hairdryer loves a bath,
Like an ax loves a tree,
Like GPAs love math,
Like Clintons love snitches,
Like Windows likes working,
But I still think it’s weird
Netflix likes children twerking.
Filed under Poems
First they made potatoes,
Then they made potato chips
Which were the same but thinner
And were prone to chap one’s lips.
Then they thought, “What if we
“Made these taste like spoiled fruit?”
Thus born was “Salt and Vinegar,”
And thus rose the chip’s repute.
“That went well,” the people said
And so they made new flavors
Like “Sour Cream and Onion”
And “Tasteless” (For the savers).
They made the chips organic,
They made them hot and cold,
They covered them in who-knows-what,
And still, somehow, they sold,
But you now dare to tell me
That my product is a waste?
Who wouldn’t want to purchase chips
Called “Orange Juice and Toothpaste?”
Filed under Poems
We are blacks. You are whites.
You deny our human rights.
You can shoot us while we snack.
You can shoot us in the back.
You can shoot us while we sleep
Or brand us as unusual sheep.
We have never met our dad,
But blackness isn’t only bad.
We are physically much bigger
And can call each other the first part of Ryan Higa’s Youtube channel.
Being black is sometimes great.
We get to attend Penn State
Instead of living in a dump,
All because white guys can’t jump.
If you know of current trends
We will steal your girlfriends;
You are white and we are black
And they ain’t ever coming back!
Filed under Poems
There’s nothing anyone can say
That won’t offend another.
For instance, if you say
That you live with your mother
Women call you loser,
Men will say you suck,
And orphans will be pissed
Because some guys get all the luck.
Filed under Poems
Here’s to George,
The man who died,
And in so doing
Showed it’s safe outside
To gather en masse
Without pandemic fears.
May he be remembered
When the next “plague” appears!
Filed under Poems
Today I protested protests
By going to the store,
Putting items in my cart
Which I did then pay for.
I then departed quietly
And went back to my house
Where I tweeted “Peace and love”
Before I beat my spouse.
Filed under Poems
I said “If”
She said, “Did I tell you about…”
I said “You”
She said “The time I had the doubt…”
I said “Don’t”
“About whether or not…”
I said “Shut”
“This eyeliner makes me hot…”
I said “Up”
“‘Cause I, like, wasn’t totally sure…”
I said “I”
“If this was chic or, like, couture…”
I said “Will”
“So I called my BFF…”
I said “Do”
“And was like, ‘Sup, my broseph…”
I said “What”
“And he was like, ‘Oh girl…”
I said “Epstein”
“That shade of ivory makes me hurl…”
I said “Didn’t.”
She would stop,
Or so I thought;
She kept talking;
I did not.
I hung around;
She tied the knot.
Filed under Poems
