Sometimes people are cranky
Even if you give them a blankey.
If they are, just grab it back
And then go get them a snack.
If a snack and a blankey don’t help
Just say noncommittally, “whelp”,
Then sprinkle a pentagram of salt
Because the devil is probably at fault.
Filed under Poems
So an OnlyFans subscription
Is $20 bucks a week?
And might be even more expensive
For a “creator” at her peak?
Forgive me if I shudder
Because that sounds like lots and lots;
In my day the gold standard was
A penny for your thots.
Filed under Poems
They said “Be the change you want to see”
And I was about to imagine bliss
Then you asked, “Penny for your thoughts”
And whoops! I’m stuck like this!
Filed under Poems
Every problem in the world
Can be solved with one of these:
WD-40, a well-timed bullet,
Or a bag of frozen peas.
Filed under Poems
Sometimes I ask myself
“Is talking to myself weird?”
Then some guy next to me says
“Yes”
And my internal monologue and I
Make knowing eye contact
And just walk away from Mr-All-About-Me.
Filed under Poems
Somewhere over the rainbow
There’s a plane
Where travelers are complaining
About chronic back pain.
Right there, over the rainbow,
I’m in hell
Wishing I’d had the foresight
To pack a liquid or gel
For with such non-solid things I
Could maybe make a boom device
And make this plane fall from the sky
And yes oh yes would that be nice…
Six months later, under the rainbow,
TSA
Brings me in for “additional screening”
And I recall this day.
Filed under Poems
Some people called us savages
For throwing tourists into volcanos,
Cannibalizing other tribes,
And praying to tornados.
Others called it “Indigenous culture”
Or “Mysticalism to savor.”
Now we throw those others in volcanos
To do the world a favor.
Filed under Poems
The Devil came back from Georgia
Having lost a fiddle battle
And decided to get his fit revenge
By giving humanity the paddle.
Still inspired by his suffering
He made child development writers
Into his own special breed
Of human happiness fighters.
In this case he inspired them
To decree that all children
From two-years-old should learn
To play the violin,
That all of them, talent or not,
Should learn of Mary’s little lamb
And whether or not they played it well
He didn’t give a damn.
And that’s how orchestras were made
Just as the Devil planned.
This story brought to you by a guy
Who plays in a concert band.
Filed under Poems
*Beeps*
Finds chair
Stands on chair
Falls of the chair
Gets back up again
Pries alarm off the wall
Puts new batteries in it
Replaces the smoke detector
Returns to bed at 3:00 AM
*Beeps*
Filed under Poems
I am very dense.
If I were an element
I’d be Osmium.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 