Somewhere in Denmark
Resides a cave
Where those thought to be dead
Live out their lives,
Where Elvis and dinosaurs
Frolic and play
With Erik the Red
And all of his wives.
But most of the caves
Is filled with Red Shirts
And half of the cast
Of “Game of Thrones,”
Along with unknown soldiers,
Shakespearean folk,
And all of the Jedi
Killed by the clones.
The cave’s getting crowded,
So Danes be aware
Of the incoming march
Of the shower-drain hair.
Filed under Poems
I judged a book by its cover
And was killed the very next day.
Death was fairly uneventful,
But in a painful, death sort of way.
Luckily I am a zombie,
And can keep carrying on with my life.
That means I can keep writing poems,
But my rhyming might get a bit brains.
Filed under Poems
Someone once asked, “What would be more dangerous: Slapping a bear on the face, or slapping an elk on the chest?” May this poem be your answer.
If you slap a bear across the face
It will probably break your bones.
It will maul you, bruise you, make you bleed,
And smash your freakin’ phone!
But if you slap an elk across the chest
It will more than end your life,
‘Cause that elk knows where you live,
And he’ll kidnap your wife.
Truth is stranger than fiction.
Filed under Poems
If you died in one hundred days,
About you, what would people say?
I’ll keep it simple: Is it good?
Have you been doing what you should?
And if you had that hundred days
And had the chance to change your ways,
What would you change about the world
Before your life did come unfurled?
Now go into the world with this:
A single goal which brings you bliss.
Now whether or not you’re going to die,
Carry out that goal. And now, good bye.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
The Daily Travesty 