So around the 1900’s
A bunch of artists said
“What if, instead of pretty things
“We just made trash instead?”
And thus “modernism” started
Until 1970 or so
When artists became “post-modern”
And nobody came to their show.
Tag Archives: Humor
Road Trip
I’m a hundred miles from home
And I’m all topped off on gas.
I’ve got four all-weather tires
To propel me past the pass.
I’ve got all my tunes on CD-rom
And 12 donuts ready to bite.
I’m ninety-nine miles from home now
And there’s the check engine light…
Filed under Poems
Fine Is Fine
Yesterday I wrote a poem
Full of soul and thought
And edited the verbiage
Reflecting how I thought.
Today I rhymed “thought” with itself
And started the next line.
Inspiration comes and goes
And that, my friends, is fine.
Filed under Poems
Saving Time, Anyone?
I spent an hour writing this poem
And it would be my most precious gem
If the hour that I had spent writing it
Wasn’t this morning at 2:00 AM.
Filed under Poems
Get It… Terrific?
I’ve heard people say leftists are happy
With Trump’s economics. A specific
Comment I heard is that they are feeling
A really strong feeling of tariff-ick.
Filed under Poems
The Marital Bed
There once was a bed with a pillow
Then a wife did enter the room
And thus my one-pillow system
Began to sense its doom.
First came two big long pillows
That stretched across the bed
And did everything a pillow should
Except help rest your head.
Then came two fluffy square ones
That aren’t the same color or size
Because apparently symmetry
Is not good for a female’s eyes.
Then came that little round novelty
With a pic of my mother-in-law
And now I don’t sleep with a pillow at all,
Put my head on mattress all raw.
Filed under Poems
Let Freedom Ring!
Imagine a world where all is at peace,
A world without hunger or toil,
And ponder how easy a thing it would be
To go bomb them and take all their oil.
Filed under Poems
Shakespeare 101
Once in fair Europe two men
Were squabbling comedically when
The audience got bored
So they pulled out a seord
And everyone dies in the end.
Filed under Poems
Ode To An English Major
In a dreary campus sat
Poor I, a poet, much perturbed
For I was realizing that
My odds of passing were disturbed.
Th’examination that I took
Was one on poetry, so I
Did not much study from my book
But sat the test, my brain still dry.
Yes, I could name poetic styles
Sonnet, Sestina, Villanelle.
I blacked out bubbles, full of smiles,
‘Til did important topics knell.
I can distinguish couplet forms
Iamb, Trochee, and Anapest.
Easily I fought these questions swarmed
But failed at what mattered best:
A final question on the page
The exam’s author failed to anoint
And my lack of answer caused me rage.
The question: “What’s the fucking point?”
Filed under Poems
P. Diddy? More Like R. Chaic! (Gregorian Ba Dum Tss)
I suspect between 476-1450 AD
The pedophiles cried and raged
Because even the youngest of children
Were all still middle aged.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 