Tag Archives: Lazy

Next Year I Resolve To Put More Effort Into Hindsight

Looking back at 2022

I had a revelation that I’d like to share with you:

I realized that retrospectives take a while to do well

So I’ll end this poem early and say this year was pretty swell!

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This Poem Is Probably Racist And Hates Short People

Last night I wrote a lot.

Tonight I wrote much not.

The kettle is black and so is the pot.

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There once was a man from Humptulips

Who worked in a restaurant for a few tips.

He made decent money

But mostly it’s just funny

That there’s an actual town called Humptulips.

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True Love, 2022

Upon the sofa down we sat,

Eating ice cream, happy, fat,

Eyes on the TV, wearing no pants:

This is my ideal of romance!

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Artistic Priorities

Today I was a DJ

At a wedding for my friends.

It was great, but tiring

And thus this poem ends.

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Meta Stuff Is Cool Again, Right?

There once was a guy who drove home

And was tired from toes to his dome.

He wrote a lazy limerick

And rhymed it with slimmer dick

And this won’t get published in my next tome.

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Seriously, When Was The Last Time You Went To The Movies And Enjoyed It?

Someone in Hollywood decided

“What if instead of crappy flicks

“We badly remade everything people love

“And when they complain, say that they’re dicks?”

Everyone outside Hollywood

Disliked this judgement call,

But on the bright side, now people

See that books aren’t that bad after all.

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Your Math Teacher Warned You…

There once was a magical hero

Who divided the whole world by zero.

Trof huaknr jshfl ej

Helfpbe nfhoshe nej

Htppbej jfhw jfjr yeega beero.

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The Weaker Poetry Bloggers, One Year Into The Apocalypse… #Weak

‘Twas on a night near end of Spring

When I was asked to write a thing

Describing how the flowers bloomed

Even though humanity’s doomed.

“Roses are red“, so started my verse

“And violets are blue, unlike that hearse.”

And then I decided since I’d end up dead

To quit writing poems and play golf instead.

So wrote a lesser poet just days

Before he was eaten by the undead horde.

When apocalypse comes, I’ll struggle in ways

But never complain that, when writing, I’m bored.

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Last Night’s Bad Decisions Lead To… Not Exactly Redemption

Whenever a poem begins with “tonight”

You pretty much know it’s no good

So this morning I’m writing early

Because I figure I should.

The problem is autobiographical poems

Are also universally mediocre

So maybe instead of being a poet

I should take up professional poker?

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