All I want for Christmas
Is a lump of coal.
I hope I get one soon.
My only problem
Is I’m a good boy
And also that it’s June.
All I want for Christmas
Is a lump of coal.
I hope I get one soon.
My only problem
Is I’m a good boy
And also that it’s June.
Filed under Poems
Though made to feed a bovine calf
We stole you from the mother,
Mixed you with bacteria
And rennet to feed another.
We formed this new more-yellow you
Into a wheel of cheese
To be sliced and melted freely
By whosoever it should please.
Your sacrifice is noted
And has brought the world much joy
And we’ll fight to keep you relevant
In a world obsessed with soy.
Filed under Poems
The whale, beached as it may be,
Still dreams of life upon the sea,
So ask not whence your velvet coat
And why ’twas pawned to buy a boat.
Just read my explanation note;
“Your dream. Sincerely, me.”
Filed under Poems
Slice of lemon in your glass?
That happens all the time,
But have you ever wondered why
It’s not a slice of lime?
The lighter-colored citrus fruits
Are served most frequently
Because climate change and racists.
That’s what half the people see.
The other half are shouting
That the lack of water-limes
Is thanks to the free-market
In these far-from-certain times
And that the pro-lime lobbyists
Will take your guns away
And so in lemon drinks we trust…
In Jesus’ name we pray.
Filed under Poems
Some folks say women and men.
Some say females and males.
I say:

Some lives have a destination.
Some lives are about the journey.

Some people like kisses.
Some people prefer hugs.
Some are busy writing:

There is a mighty crater here
Where recently there wasn’t.
Ali-Baba said his bomb works
And I said “No it doesn’t.”
Ali-Baba sure was right.
Correct ’twas the hunch he had,
But he misread the bombs locale.
Thus ended his jihad.
Being human is great
But the best thing to be
Reincarnated as
(According to me)
Is the inside part
Of the roof of a home
‘Cause you aren’t at all sentient
And people leave you alone.
Filed under Poems
Everything in life worth knowing
Can be found in a hard-boiled egg.
If you don’t see how that’s possible
Your name probably isn’t Greg.
Filed under Poems
If you ever meet a cannibal
And it wants to eat your flesh
And you want to look less finger-lickin’ good
Then scream and cry and wail
‘Cause cannibals don’t like
The taste of chicken. Are we understood?
Filed under Poems
All the single ladies
Ask where all the good men went,
Dreaming of the good old days
When the six-foot-plus millionaires
Without egos or exes
Would contact them conveniently
And buy them stuff
All without leaving the house.
Meanwhile the six-foot-plus
Drama-free millionaires
Are in their basements
Roleplaying car thieves
And writing bad poetry blogs.
You’re welcome.
Filed under Poems