I called her pulchritudinous.
She called me eellogofusciouhipoppokunurious.
Both of those are compliments
In case I made you curious.
Tag Archives: Humor
English Empire? Hold My Beer…
We asked Canada to become a state
But they responded with only hate.
What was poor America to do
But extend the offer to Venezuela too?
Filed under Poems
Move Over, Tae Kwon
In the distant German mountains
The cloistered monks abide,
Perfectly fermenting
The hidden power that’s inside.
They slice a cabbage handily
With their German ninja blade,
Discovering through discipline
How real strength is made.
They drink not wine but vinegar
As they battle high and low,
The secret monk practitioners
Of the great art: Sauer Do.
Filed under Poems
Wishing You A Fungus-Free New Year
I’m starting out the new year
By achieving my daily goals
Like writing my daily poetry
And avoiding benzimidazoles.
And yes, my new goals do include
Some oddly specific stuff
But that’s the sacrifice we make
Because rhyming is tough.
Filed under Poems
Errata for Yesterday’s Haiku
I have been informed
By the demons, and I quote,
“We’re busy elsewhere.”
Filed under Poems
D&D, 1980s Edition
Demon worshippers
Moulding children to their will
Using dice and math.
Filed under Poems
When You Have To Finish All The Christmas Candy Before Your Resolutions Start
Not quite next year yet…
Losing weight is easier
When you start out fat…
Filed under Poems
Timmy Quits First Grade
Kids think school is really neat.
It’s all the crayons you can eat
And lots of friends to boss around
‘Til you weigh more than fifty pounds.
After that school isn’t great.
You’re teased for all the crayons you ate
By bigger kids with smaller brains
And many fewer choochoo trains.
If school stuck to its “pre” version
It would enhance student immersion.
Alas, they think we have to learn
And that’s why I will not return.
Filed under Poems
The Redneck Reindeer
‘Twas the night after Christmas
And all through the crick
All the rednecks were calling
Old Francis a dick
‘Cause of all of the nights
To go hunting for deer
These nights are the very worst
Parts of the year.
He must’ve been drinking.
Why else would he look
For deer in the sky
And take the shot that he took?
Now all of the kiddies
Have stockings of air
‘Cause old Francis’s shotgun
Had pellets to spare.
But the crick kids were thankful
As they took a big bite
Of smoked red-nosed venison
On post-Christmas night.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 