It’s fun listening to kids complain:
“I don’t want to make my bed!
“I don’t want to eat dinner!
“No! I only like red!”
It’s fun to see them cry about
Their multitude of misery
Because I can imagine how great
It would feel if that were me!
Tag Archives: Humor
Model U.N.
Somebody somewhere decided one day
That most of the countries on earth
Should send representatives to talk about
Things that have slim to no worth.
Then somebody somewhere looked at that group
And said, “Hey all my scholastic friends,
“What if we did that make-believe peace thing
“But for us it will just be pretend?”
Filed under Poems
Checkmate, Libertarians!
Anyone who says taxes
Are not part of nature’s desire
Has never put a pair of socks
Into any sort of a dryer.
Filed under Poems
Chatting With The “Mirror Selfie” Girls…
Sometimes I look in the mirror
And see myself staring at me,
And when I clean the glass it gets clearer
And I know it’s my face that I see
And I look at myself and think “Wow!
“That’s expected, and not very shocking!”
And that, my dear lady, is what I perceive
And thus space out when you start talking.
Filed under Poems
Enough Of Pthis Greek Shipt
There once was a guy named Ptolemy
Who was ptaller than just about any ptree.
And wouldn’pt you know it
I don’pt have a punchline
But I pthink you get the tpoint.
Filed under Poems
Erudition and Emission
When children attempt to be smart
They turn first to reading and art.
Then they learn “flatulence“
Rhymes with nothing but “spatulence”
And thus they resume saying fart.
Filed under Poems
Imagery…
He said “Hey there baby.
“Want to date a carpenter?”
She said “I would rather
“French kiss a pencil sharpener.”
Filed under Poems
This Is A Lazy Poem Unless You Work At A Stuffed Animal Factory
Today I was busy
And did lots of stuff
So I went back home
And pumped out this fluff.
Filed under Poems
Sophie’s Choice
Sophie was an average girl
With fairly average likes;
Fond of wine and dogs and soap
And mental health and hikes.
One day she was kidnapped
By a disembodied voice
Who told her she would surely die
Unless she made the choice:
Would she rather kiss someone
Who smelled liked a catcher’s mitt
That had been soaked in sour milk
And armadillo spit
While treading water in a pool
Of acid, hot as Hades
And listening to Kenny G
Play highlights of the eighties
While the Devil lit a match
And burned off all her hair…
Or, when asked where she’d like to eat
To not say “I don’t care.”
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 