If you want to have world peace
And have all wars be ended
All you need to do is kill
The folks who get offended
Because if no one ever
Is upset by what gets said
No one will think, “That’s mean
“And so let’s make that person dead.”
Instead the only people
Still alive can speak their mind
And no one says “Let’s murder them
“‘Cause they mocked my behind.”
We’d live in perfect harmony
In lands of dance and song,
And if such genocide offends you
Then I dare you: Prove me wrong.
Filed under Poems
Our government in America
Is a lot of old people
Roleplaying as a nose with a cold,
Alternating whether the right
Or left nostril can’t breath
While helping no one at all.
Time for Sinuclear TM
Filed under Poems
What child is this
You laid to rest
That in my lap
Is sleeping,
Whose face glows white
Like the face of God,
And why won’t my cell phone
Quit beeping?
Filed under Poems
‘Twas the night after Kwanzaa
And all through the house
The whole family was stirring
But there was no male spouse…
Filed under Poems
“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
For those who aren’t aware,
Jail and prison are not the same.
To help remember which is which
You can play this little game:
If you piss off any cop
You’ll go to a jail cell.
If you’re either poor or black
You’ll go to prison as well.
Filed under Poems
Leo asked, “Would you like to eat African food?”
We voted, and most voted, “Yea.”
Having said yes, Leo said, “Then I guess
“You and Africans feel the same way.”
Filed under Poems
When a Catholic priest goes bad
And wants a little boy
He calls the kid by asking
“You want to have a toy?”
When a Rabbi gets the urge
To get a boy that way
He says, “You want to have a toy?
“If so, you gotta pay!”
Filed under Poems
All is well while you’re singing
Until your realize
Mary will eventually have a big sheep
Unless one of them dies…
And yet we have been singing this
Since time itself was made.
Do the Mary’s keep swapping
Or was a sweater made?
Filed under Poems
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
The Daily Travesty 