Well, you tried to con a dollar
From my hard day’s work
But I’ve never worked a day in my life.
Then you tried to sell me something
In an unmarked bag.
I said “Maybe, but I gotta ask my wife.”
Then you pulled a Smith and Wesson
From your paint-on jeans
And you told me “Pull your wallet out slow.”
Nine months later you’ve a stroller,
I’m approved for my parole-a.
When it’s love, sometimes you just know.
Filed under Poems
I hit my brother
And hit my mother.
It was not okay.
They said “Don’t hit.”
I said “No shit”
And hit them anyway.
Cops saw the fight,
Turned on their light,
And hit me in the gut.
So hitting’s okay
With the government’s say?
And I was all like “Wut?”
I hit the cop
And hit my pop
With my inflatable hammer.
They cuffed my wrists
To stop my fists
And shut me in the slammer.
I was in jail
‘Cause no one paid bail
And was charged in juvenile court.
I can’t write a sentence
But I’ll attempt repentance
And maybe build a fort.
Filed under Poems
Want to give stopping crime a try?
We’ve got police and the FBI,
The CIA and TSA
And yet crime just won’t go away!
I have a method that may just work:
If somebody is being a jerk
Feed them lots of food, ’cause who
Commits a crime when they have to poo?
When perpetrators are constipated
You’ll find most violence had abated;
If you don’t want to end up dead
Feed potential felons bread.
Filed under Poems
If you get mugged in central park
And think it isn’t fair
Just call it a “mandatory donation
“To ensuring criminal welfare.”
Filed under Poems
She killed a man in April.
By May she was convicted.
The day of her execution came;
Her heart, it was conflicted.
The guard came to her cell
And asked what her last meal would be.
She said “I don’t know. What do you want?”
#ReasonsForTheDeathPenalty
Filed under Poems
We sat down to play
The latest version of Clue,
Read through the rulebook
To check what was new,
Saw a new character
Named “Mr. Not-White”
And we shouted “Case closed”
And called it a night.
Filed under Poems
The day that Venus touched my hand
The night was dark upon the land;
The wind was very chill and grim
And the streetlights’ respites scarce and slim.
As her fingers met with mine
I longed for them to intertwine.
I held on tight as she let go.
How chill and grim the wind did blow!
I asked her why she ran away
But, no longer present, she’d naught to say.
And as I stood there all alone
I realized she stole my phone.
Venus, it seems, knew the pickpocket’s art
But knew not that she stole my heart.
So I launched “Find my iPhone”
And followed with a heart of stone
The steps to find my mobile and
The Venus who had touched my hand.
Down I followed many miles
Towards the thief and all her wiles,
Past the park and through the woods
And into shady neighborhoods
Until upon the spot came I
Where Apple said “Your phone’s nearby,”
And there I saw her, Queen of Love,
My iPhone held with woolen glove.
Her fingers danced light as can be
As she stole my identity.
I called out “Venus, I am Joe!”
She shrugged as if to say “I know.”
Then she shot me in the face
With majestic and transcendent grace.
As I descended to the dead
Her visage filled what was left of my head.
And on that dark and stormy night
When Venus’s left hand touched my right…
That hand which held the fated gun
Which well-ensured my life was done…
And whence the chill, grim wind had blown
I learned the downside of testosterone.
Filed under Poems
I ask you now to wonder
On the act of taking plunder
And on pirate-like behavior as a whole:
How does someone with a flag
Holding out a taxman’s bag
Compare to vagrants charging travelers a toll?
And what of other you’s and me’s
Traveling on the seven seas
When a Jolly Roger pulls their cannon out
And says “give us what you’ve got
“Or you’ll probably get shot.”
That’s what piracy and taxes are about!
Now sure, our brand of takers
Cheer beside you for the Lakers
And send you notes before they pull their gun
But they are not made less like Smeagol
Just because their theft is legal
And their pre-audit demeanor is more fun.
I’m not afraid to call BS
On our nation’s IRS.
Now excuse me, for I must go on the run.
As Uber and Lyft are to taxis,
As AirB&B is to lodging
We need a low-cost solution
To enable the art of tax-dodging.
Uber and Lyft are slang and misspellings.
AirB&B is the service plus “air.”
I suggest “AirTyght” for our no-tax service
And if you disagree I don’t care.
Filed under Poems
If at first you don’t succeed
Find out who has made it so
Then stab that person ’til they bleed
And on to victory you’ll go.
This strategy has proven good
Historically for folks who are male
But wait! Do it not you should
If you cause yourself to fail.
Filed under Poems
