There once was a certifiable psycho
Who didn’t want to save money with Geico.
He was a horrible git
And that’s about it
And if Geico gives me a sponsorship because I emphasized their brand message, then me like-o.
Tag Archives: Limerick
Car Insurance And Corporate Suckupishness: A Modern Masterpiece Of Poetical Ingenuity
Filed under Poems
Sometimes Inspiration Doesn’t Help
There once was a writer’s-blocked poet
Who needed to write but didn’t want to blow it.
He Googled “poetry prompt generator”
And five minutes later
Took a photo of the prompt, and here he will show it:
Filed under Poems
If Only The British Had An Army Of Sentient Bears, America Might Never Have Existed #ThingsFootballTaughtMe
One day in ye olde Boston faire
Some guys had a tea party there.
Then some bears mauled them… mean!
33 to 14
And yeah, the analogy ends there.
Filed under Poems
Now You Know Why DeerDon’t Use iPhones
There once was a buck from Melrose
Who smelled something sweet with his nose.
His friends said “That crap’ll
“Most oft be an apple.
“Forget it. Let’s go out and win does.”
Filed under Poems
Great Historical Figures Deserve Better Than This, But I Wrote It Anyway
There once was a mom from Calcutta
Who was sweeter than suga or butta.
Even she had no mercy
For those born in Jersey
So Jersey boys pray to King Tutta.
Filed under Poems
Thursday Night Football
There once were some Illinois Bears
Who played the ex-redskins by O’hare.
They punted and punted
And punted and punted
And who the heck actually cares?
Filed under Poems
It Pairs Well With Ghoulash
There once were some zombies from Crete
Who hungered for sentient meat.
They sat and moaned “braaains”
‘Til a skeleton came
With some brains and said “Bone appetite.”
Filed under Poems
Boy Howdy… I Mean, Um, They Howdy?
There once was a child from Gestalt
Who thought mean words equaled assault.
Someone said “You are male.”
Now that sayer’s in jail
And I ponder who’s really at fault.
Filed under Poems
It’s My Birthday, So You HAVE To Like The Post
Today is the day if my birth,
When I first breathed the air of the Earth.
Because of my exodus
From my mom’s uterus
I now create poems with mirth.
Filed under Poems
Garden My Turf, Yo
If I were a young urban strawberry
Whose life on the streets turned to robbery
You might think my booty
Would be stabby or shooty
But nope! My violence is clobbery.
Filed under Poems
