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.
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
I have been informed
By the demons, and I quote,
“We’re busy elsewhere.”
Filed under Poems
Demon worshippers
Moulding children to their will
Using dice and math.
Filed under Poems
They graded us with letters,
Best to worst, or “A” through “E“,
And they assigned a “Mighty Nine”
To define what an “A” could be.
The Mighty Nine were to refine
Our fine society
But none of the nine turned out to be
Much better than a “C”.
So “E”s and “D”s, eager to please
The Mighty Nine did strive
Not for a ten-star effort
But settled for a five
While the “A”s and “B”s exceeded
What the Mighty Nine could do
And thus were graded out of ten
Merely a one or two.
Meanwhile, they, the many “C”s
Who chose the Mighty Nine,
Smiled at the system
Which, to them, was mighty fine
And the “A”s and “B”s quit trying
And the “D”s and “E”s died out
And the Mighty Nine, all smiling,
Redefined what life’s about.
The Mighty Nine were models
Of what every “A” should be
But, seized by “C”s, became diseased
With mediocrity.
So cautious be of leaders
Who are mirrors of their peers
Or else the Mighty Nine will reign
Another ninety years.
Filed under Poems
Not quite next year yet…
Losing weight is easier
When you start out fat…
Filed under Poems
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
‘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
If you get a hippopotamus for Christmas
‘Cause only a hippopotamus will do
I won’t get a gift for you next Christmas
‘Cause you’ll just be hippopotamus poo.
Filed under Poems
‘Twas the night before Christmas
And wouldn’t you know it,
Eight lines of verse
From your favorite poet!
Though the wording was brief
The message was clear:
I’m sleepy right now
But I’ll do better next year.
Filed under Poems
Zombie killing spree
And a zombie-killing spree
Are not the same thing.
Filed under Poems