Tag Archives: Humor

This Poem Rhymes If Your Accent Is Creative Enough

There once was an American skier

Who fell off a Canadian pier.

He yelled, “I broke my foot!”

Some bystanders asked, “What?”

Then one said, “Oh! His one-third of a meter!”

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‘90s Kids Won’t Get This Joke

Dr. Pepper was hit by an iron

He recently confessed.

When asked how he was feeling

He said “I’m soda pressed.”

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Another Perspective…

The top one-percent of earners

Make $585 K.

The minimum NFL salary

Is $615,000 today.

These 0.95-percenters

Complain about being oppressed

And wonder why their unemployed fans

Are anything less than impressed.

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If You Sell Love to Haters, Don’t Ask Why No One Is Buying

To those who make their homes beneath rocks

I offer this poetic plea

Regarding demonstrations by civilians and jocks

With the hopes you will listen to me.

Yes, it’s important all people are equals

And treated with love and respect.

Yes, there’s been push-back, misinterpretation,

But, frankly, what did you expect?

The symbols with which you display your ideals

May change some opinions for sure;

If I spit on a puppy and say “Yay world peace!”

You might doubt my intentions are pure.

Likewise if you stand for freedom and justice

By kneeling in front of a flag,

By fleeing from songs about love for our nation

Some people will think you’re a drag.

If instead when the anthem is sung by our siblings

And you stand to honor our banner

Those who disparage your reason for protest

No longer disparage its manner.

And after you’ve captured the ear of your rivals

You show them the point you want made

You swapped some derision for some indecision

And that is a valuable trade.

To those who were hateful and know are uncertain

You do not decry them as bad

But make your point clear and then disappear.

Don’t be an unskippable ad!

Don’t show what’s troublesome, worrying, scary

By showing disdain for what’s good.

Instead show you’re with us, then raise our awareness

And maybe we’ll do as we should.

And if we keep not being how you would wish us,

Disrespect you, or call you a name,

Consider the best way to make the world better

Is simply to not do the same.

I don’t ask this often, but if you agree with my perspective, please share this poem.

Share it with those who think as you do, because they’ll likely enjoy it too.

Share it with those with whom you disagree, for that is the path to the change we must see.

Share it with those who will argue and fight. You may not kill darkness, but you can shine a light.

Share it with those with whom you would be one, for we share the same air, the same earth, the same sun.

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…Ya Know?

Chevy is the At&T of cars.

Polos are the Taylor Swift of shirts.

Venus is the Uranus of Mars.

Shorts are the frozen waffles of skirts.

Mondays are the Youtube ads of time.

The Bachelor is the store-brand Cheerios of salt.

Chihuahuas are the poet’s salary of crime.

If you don’t get these metaphors that’s not my fault.

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A Blue-Blooded Joke for a Red-Blooded Folk

Of terrible jokes

This is but one of a myriad:

Both Picasso and the Princess

Have had a blue period.

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Canadian Rap

What’s up dawg?

We about to get real!

In my crib we consider

How other folks feel,

Like when a brother asks

“Yo, where da bathroom be?”

You say “The end of the hall,”

And hope they have a good pee.

If your mixtape is flames

But it’s disturbin’ the neighbors

You realize that lack of sleep

Impacts professional labors,

So you crank it from eleven

Back to a suitable volum’

So when yo neighbors see the cops

They ain’t intendin’ to call ’em.

We don’t judge a playa’s major,

Whether fine arts or stem.

We be diggin’ respect

For he/him/she/her/they/them.

We know if a brotha’s vegan

Or wants his food gluten free,

And if you bringin’ people drinks

Why not some decaf tea?

If you come an’ have a holla

In the ‘burbs with me,

I be more apt to thank you kindly

If you RSVP.

You may think we freakin’ tame

Because our hide’s pretty white,

But a party ain’t be rockin’

If da guests ain’t polite!

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Origin Story

Once upon a space and time

A man who was not paid to rhyme

Devoted much attention to

Forcing his “humor” on you.

He spent a day amidst his folks

Without thinking of rhyming jokes.

The last two days he’d been lazy

So to slack off now would make him crazy.

Thus he started writing, it’s said

When a title popped into his head.

What he’d written did not fit

But he did not not give a… spit.

Anyway, I’m writing still

Although perhaps I battle uphill.

Yes, the tense is present now

And I wipe sweat from my brow.

(Even though my brow is sweatless

I actually wiped it. That’s how much I get this).

If you’ve seen this, you have read it.

This is why most poets edit.

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Millennial Parenting Takes Another Small Step

If your name were Bedtime

And asked for a bedtime story

People might share anecdotes

Of you in all your glory.

Your children might get all confused

When it’s their rest-your-head time

And you ask them to ask you

“Tell me a story, Bedtime?”

Or say you want a lesson

In a subject like history

And you have to tell somebody

“Tell me, Bedtime, a story.”

One thing no one asks though

Is why Bedtime isn’t sad

When he tells the story of the time

He killed his mom and dad…

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