We make jokes about things
That make us uncomfortable
Like excrement, sex, farts, and lawyers.
I’m inclined to question
Why there aren’t more jokes
About child birth, plastic chairs, and employers.
Perhaps it’s because
We can’t get the jokes out,
Or they’re just a pain in the ass
Or maybe it’s that,
Though your skills are impressive,
This time they’re going to pass.
Filed under Poems
‘Twas a misty night, and Watson
Accompanied by Sherlock Holmes,
Pitched their tent under the stars
And went where dreams do roams.
A couple hours later,
Sherlock shook his friend awake.
He said, “Watson, look above you,
And tell me what observation you can make.”
Watson looked above him
And saw millions of stars.
“If there’s millions of stars above us,
Maybe there are planets with life, like ours.”
Sherlock sighed, annoyed,
And into the woods he went.
“Where are you going?” Watson shouted.
Holmes replied, “To find our tent.”
Filed under Poems
You go out to the movies
To watch a giant screen,
Hoping to be entertained
By J-Lo or Charlie Sheen.
But what’s hot at the movies
Are Superheroes. I must say
That I believe in real life.
We’re all heroes in our way.
According to the latest films
Batman was a wealthy man
Who was horribly afraid of bats.
By that logic, I’m Spiderman.
Superman came from the sky
And had a funny name (Kal-El).
So pilots named Shaniqua
Are super instead of lame (Well, well).
And when I started this poem
It seemed easier than it is.
So I’m leaving, to fix my wrinkly shirt,
‘Cause at the iron, man, I’m a whizz!
Filed under Poems
Fishing:
Many of us have done it.
Wishing:
That we would catch something.
Hishing:
Like a snake when we didn’t.
Fishing:
I’ve come up with the solution.
Fishing:
We use bait fish like to eat.
Swishing:
Through the water before them.
Dishing:
Out food, but that’s not what fish want.
Fishing:
I’ve got a solution.
Fishing needs a bait that is better,
Fishing needs bait that will make fish get wetter
And want, with their young lustful fishy young hearts.
It’s a bait for the masters, and it comes from my heart:
Master bait!
Quality in the palm of your hand!
Master bait!
When you’re bored go to the lake and
Master Bait!
You can do it in the light and the dark
And in terms of baseball
You can whack it out of the park!
Filed under Poems
For those of you who did read the poem
That I posted on this blog yesterday,
This sonnet should not cause surprise to them,
For my identity’s taken away.
Now bank accounts and credit cards belong
To Prince Harjinder from Nigeria.
To Lifelock I am singing this sad song.
It was a scam. I’d no ideria.
Now my mortgage is foreclosed. Makes me sore
That people would do such a nasty thing.
But a Canadian pharmacist yore
Assures me I can get lots of free “bling.”
Disclaimer: I am not really this dumb,
But it makes for funny poems, ho hum!
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
‘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
The Daily Travesty 
Blog Spam
Dear reader, I would like to say
That I learned something new today.
And, though I shouldn’t be, shocked I am
That people leave comments that are spam.
For instance, one I got today
Was a comment that did say
That my posting was informative.
Did they misread it, or are they conformative?
Anyone who reads and thinks
My posts are meaningful has indulged in drinks
Except for the infrequent ones,
But they are seldom very fun.
So if you think “this is good written”
Please do not make it something written.
I do not want to read your spam.
I already have some, Sam-I-Am.
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Filed under Poems, To the Reader
Tagged as Comedy, Comments, Poetry, Spam