Tag Archives: Parody

Guest Poem By Michael Bay

There once was a musclebound maverick

Who lived on a houseboat back east

Whose hobby was arm-wrestling pythons

And whose fingers’ tattoos spelled out “B.E.A.S.T.”

A menace that threatened America

Made the president call him to arms.

Then there was a gratuitous explosion

And a lot of red flashing alarms.

So Maverick emerged from retirement,

Shook hands with some buddies from ‘Nam

Then one more gratuitous explosion

This time from a nuclear bomb.

A scantily clad 20-something

Kissed Maverick and gave him a knife

After which he confronted the menace,

There was a gratuitous explosion…

Thus endeth the big bad guy’s life.

Somewhere in there’s a Bugatti

And a shirtless training montage.

You might think this doesn’t make sense,

Thus explosions and décolletage.

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If The Beatles Were Japanese

Kaiju… Don’t make it mad.

It takes a city and makes it flatter.

Remember to shoot it straight in the heart.

Then you can start to stem the slaughter.

Kaiju… Best be afraid.

Though it’s filmed in low resolution

The minute its scales start to glow white

You know a fight’s the best solution.

And any time it feels pain, Kaiju eats planes.

It’s teeth are big and blunt like boulders.

And know you know how far Kaiju can fling poor you

Whenever his primal temper smolders.

Raarrrraaaarraarrr rar rar rar raaaar…

Rar rar rar raaaaaaarrrrrr… Kaiju.

Mitsu, don’t let me down.

You’re for some reason a robot pilot.

Remember to punch it right in the heart

So school-kids can start to sing together. (For whatever reason)

So fight it out and knock it down, Kaiju’s renown

Will suffer a bit after your meeting.

Don’t fret, Mitsu, that only you can fight Kaiju

And dish out an asian island beating.

Ha ha ha, ha, ha ha ha… HIYAAA!

Kaiju… he’s going down.

Falls in Tokyo Bay and makes stuff wetter.

The credits are just beginning to roll

But don’t take a stroll… the sequel’s better.

Rah, mama, and a hiyaa! Guess what we saw? Kaiju!

Rah, mama, and a hiyaa! Guess what we saw? Kaiju!

Rah, mama, and a hiyaa! Guess what we saw? Kaiju!

Rah, mama, and a hiyaa! Guess what we saw? Kaiju!

Rah, mama, and a hiyaa! Guess what we saw? Kaiju!

Rah, mama, and a hiyaa! Guess what we saw? Kaiju!

Rah, mama, and a hiyaa! Guess what we saw? Kaiju!

Rah, mama, and a hiyaa! Guess what we saw? Kaiju!

Rah, mama, and a hiyaa! Guess what we saw? Kaiju!

Rah, mama, and a hiyaa! Guess what we saw? Kaiju!

Rah, mama, and a hiyaa! Guess what we saw? Kaiju!

Rah, mama, and a hiyaa! Guess what we saw? Kaiju 2!

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What You Do When You Can’t Mock Kwanzaa Via Poetry And Keep Your Job

‘Twas the day after Christmas

And all through my mind

No ideas were stirring

Of the poetic kind.

I stood by the fire

While amidst the tumult

And I pumped out two stanzas,

This being the result.

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Christmas In Cascadia

We the people laugh and sing

Though our houses serve as graves

To the offspring of the forests

And the farms of evergreen slaves.

We hang lights on the bodies

Of the trees we cut ourselves

And celebrate the sootiness

Of indentured arctic elves.

Our celebration is offensive

To terrorists a world away

Thus to mention “Merry Christmas”

Means you’re probably anti-gay.

So just say “Happy Holidays,”

And smile and submit

So folks who think this poem is serious

Will not have a fit.

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A Poem Is…

A vague sentence

Full of supercilious words

Spread out asymmetrically

Over multiple

Lines,

Rhyming

Optional.

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Ignorance Is Bliss

Our childish dreams are warm

Beneath the blanket of unknowing,

Our sensibilities secure

All thanks to lack of growing.

Dulcet and desultory,

With ease we are besot,

Avoiding the obstreperous

And things requiring thought.

We swim in tranquil waters

As our bones turn into lard.

Our brains become decrepit

As we hide from all that’s hard.

The deities of comfort

Sanctify our mindless chatter,

A lullaby to help forget

Our lives don’t really matter.

When hunger or reality

Force us, languid, to act

We choose harmony of feelings

Over cacophony of fact,

And thus have we who worship

Our mirror’s charming sheen

Learned to pray for ignorance

So that we may die serene.

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In Other Words, Nothing Alike

Life is like a romantic comedy

Except there’s more than one fat person in the world

And nobody finds love in an airport.

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