Sitting in the waiting room,
A boy of almost eight,
Who’s never missed a chance to floss,
Nor abided sugar on his plate.
The scream of dental instruments
(And of those on which they’re used)
Leave me with a sense of peace,
Sedate and much amused.
I wore a three-piece suit to school
The morning ‘fore I came.
I was born to be a dentist
Though the others call me lame.
Yet I fear I shall not meet my dream,
Not for lack of smarts or drive
But because I am indifferent
To whether patients stay alive…
Filed under Poems
They said “Name every number.”
I said “Paul.”
They couldn’t refute my argument
And, thus, that was all.
Filed under Poems
Floccinaucinihilipilification
Is my favorite pastime,
And since no one can pronounce it
This poem needn’t rhyme.
But if you think that word is fake
Or unnecessarily wide
Then, ironically, you have just
Floccinaucinihilipilified.
Filed under Poems
What’s the best job in the army?
It’s Minesweeping, they say;
You do everything right for years
Then your problems go away.
Filed under Poems
There are lots of similarities
Between Epstein and Tolkien’s elves:
Both hang around with youngsters
And neither of them kill themselves.
I’m young and very beautiful
As you can clearly see,
And so I guess you’re losing sleep
So oft you think of me?
…
It’s true that you are beautiful,
It’s true that you are young,
But I think of you as often
As the flavor of my tongue.
Filed under Poems
At the 5K Run for white power
People called me “Hitler” to my face.
I disagreed with them, explaining
“Unlike Hitler, I can finish a race.”
Filed under Poems
A while ago I wrote a poem
About how to be your own son.
Recently, through Jesus,
I wrote another one:
If you are a grandfather
Of your son’s male offspring
I’m happy to report that you
Can do an exciting thing…
If your son joins the clergy
As a Presbyterian
And you go to his church
Your grandkid is your Father’s son.
Filed under Poems
I don’t think it’s funny
And I don’t think it’s strange
To have autistic teenagers
Opposing climate change.
I find it quite the opposite,
A much welcomed relief
To show that neurotypicals
Need not hold their belief.
Filed under Poems
I asked her out to eat with me
At Chez Insertnamehere.
It was a place with candlelight
And very expensive beer.
After our romantic dinner
Conversation hit a lull.
She said “Let’s have dinner again,”
But, alas, I was already full.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 