The pot called the kettle black.
The kettle thought the pot was a racist kind,
But then kettle saw that the pot was black too
And, quoth the kettle, nevermind.
Tag Archives: Funny
The First Ever Skate-Park Graffiti Artist
Amidst the canyons of cement
I, with my board and spray-paint saw
Amidst the half-pipes, sad and gray,
A never-before-dreamt-of flaw.
For who would want to ride downhill
While listening to bands like “thrust” and “taint”
If there were no large bubble letters
Or titties drawn in low-cost paint?
And so I shook my can of blue.
My conscience whispered “make some art.”
And on the hill, for all to see,
In indigo I spelled out “fart.”
Inwardly proud I swallowed a sob
Then went back to congress to do my job.
It’s A Matter Of Efficiency, Really
Today is Easter, as you know.
It’s also April Fool’s Day.
I think those go together
As they celebrate the way
That Jesus was all dead and stuff
And then suddenly he wasn’t.
The two holidays make sense to me
Because the whole “not dead” thing doesn’t.
What also doesn’t make much sense
Is a question of this kind:
It’s that God sacrificed himself
To appease himself I mind.
Not only that, but if it’s true
That Jesus isn’t dead
Then why not find another way
To cure one’s Godly head?
It seems if you’re omnipotent
You could just say “hey folks,
“Get your shit together”
Instead of the “oops, not dead yet” jokes.
But I am just a human
And can’t be my own son
So I’ll just eat my chocolate eggs
And let His will be done.
Filed under Poems
We Are The Sum Of Our Experiences
Have you ever seen a sunrise
And thought “that’s very yellow?”
Have you ever met a stranger
And known you do not know the fellow?
Have you ever started a poem
Without knowing how it will end?
If so I have to ask you
To stop trying to steal my identity.
Filed under Poems
A Hollywood Musical
Hollywood!
(It’s so darn good)
Oh yes, oh yes, I say.
Hollywood!
(Land of falsehood)
Oh yes, oh yes.
Where what’s important aren’t the facts unless they fit into three acts.
The place where fiction goes to diiiiiieeeeeeee!
Where it’s okay to have no story. CGI can bring you glory.
So can manly men who cryyyyyyyyyyyy!
Hollywood!
(Our favorite wood)
Oh yes, oh yes.
They’ve done all they could
(More than they should)
Oh yes, oh yes,
To guarantee that you and me will pay hard-earned money to see
A bunch of actors green-screen flyyyyyyy!
Where shirtless six-packed men are common working at Starbucks, eating ramen
Hoping to be a leading guuuyyyyyyyyyy!
You can’t stop Hollywood!
(Long has it stood!)
Oh no, oh not Hollywood!
(What else rhymes with “wood?”)
Nothing I guess…
And if you’ve ever read the book at adaptations do not look
Because you know they’ll only break your heart in twooooooooooo!
And if derivative plotlines can’t send those shivers up your spines
Well, don’t expect the Fox execs to say boo hoooooooooooo!
They gave you big robotic brawlers
And already have your dollars
So why not make Skywalker say “screw yoooouuuuuuuuu?
So if you’re inclined to feel
You don’t want to keep it real
Then come to Hoooooooo
Llllyyyyyyyyyyyy
Woooooooooooooood….
(Dramatic pause)
Toooooooooooooooooo
Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!
(Olay!)
Waxing Philosophical (Hume’r Wasn’t In Descartes)
I think that great philosophers
Who from the old days came
Were the ones who didn’t laugh
At each others’ stupid names.
Think of how the commons laughed
And asked Ptolemy why
They had to spell his name
Starting with a silent pi.
Think of how these silly names
Through laughter would disable those
Who sought to set their Platos
And forkos on the tableos.
Think of poor Epictetus
The flat-chested stoic
And poor Heraclitus
Whose parents misspelled “heroic.”
I hope there’ve Bentham fun times
Locke’d within this rant.
Some days I’m very Thoreau
But today I said “I Kant.”
Filed under Poems
Why The French Make Good High-Rollers
You may look real classy
In your souped-up chassis
And yet prove to be asses
When you read “chassis” as chasses.
Filed under Poems
Please Objectify Me!
I think that in a former life
I was a block of wood
Because I like to do nothing
While smelling sort of good,
I’d be hurt if hit by a chainsaw
And I’m warm when set on fire.
My dream is to one day be famous
So next life I’ll be a Goodyear tire
Filed under Poems
Almost Zeus
Deep in a forest
In some ancient year
Lived the grandest buck ever,
The king of the deer.
His antlers were mountains.
Sun and moon were his eyes.
There was nothing more massive
Or nearly as wise.
He spoke only truths
And healed all ills.
His laughter was music.
His teardrops were hills.
This primeval buck
Made all that’s good, fair, and lush
But his name was “Pookums”
So you don’t hear of him much.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 