Somebody was like
“What if we wrote ‘SKJ’
“And pronounced it like ‘sh?'”
And another guy was like
“When Hell freezes over.”
And I was like
“Nor way man!”
Also hockey, socialism, and vikings.
Tag Archives: poems
That’s Why My Nickname Is “Fish Lips”
My dad has the heart of a lion.
My mom has the heart of a gnu.
Sure, my dad has better taste
But they’re both banned for life from the zoo.
Filed under Poems
Somewhere, 1.923% Of My Readers Just Pooped Themselves (The Other 98.077 Need To Reevaluate Their Fetishes)
Find a deck of shuffled playing cards.
Pick a random card and write it down.
Then think of the number of letters
In the name of your favorite town…
If you subtract the number you thought of
From how often you think of French maids
You’ll find that the card you have written
Is in fact the seven of spades.
Filed under Poems
Autobiography, Chapter 1
Writing lousy poems
Is really not that hard.
It doesn’t take a lot of work
To be a blogging bard.
The only bit that’s difficult
Is deciding what to write,
Thus my meta-poetry
At 10 o’clock at night.
Filed under Poems
When You’re Not Picky About Who You Befriend
My friend has 70 statues of legs.
I don’t know how he got ’em,
But I know if he ever spanks a statue
He’ll likely hit rock bottom.
Filed under Poems
Gobbledegook
In the wilds of Gobbledegook
Are paths too many overlook.
One path most people think is lost
Leads to a world exempt of cost,
Where man and nature have no laws,
Where an effect may have no cause,
Where you may hear a singsong tune
That smells like sunset on the moon.
The goblins that live in this land
Live lives most thoroughly unplanned,
Not to be shared with people doomed
To travel on a path more groomed.
If you are one who seeks to find
The secrets of the unthought mind,
To seek safety via dangers
Know this: Goblins welcome strangers.
All you need to live for free
Is to stare at what you can’t see.
The best place to start to not look?
Try the wilds of Gobbledegook.
Filed under Poems
White Men, 2019
One day someone was looking
At a girl with diamond earrings
And thought “hey, those are pretty
“But why not use frisbees instead?”
Thus was the beginning
Of the now-frequent appearings
Of those with earlobes larger
Than the brains inside their heads.
Filed under Poems
Old Habits Never Die
She killed a man in April.
By May she was convicted.
The day of her execution came;
Her heart, it was conflicted.
The guard came to her cell
And asked what her last meal would be.
She said “I don’t know. What do you want?”
#ReasonsForTheDeathPenalty
Filed under Poems
She’s Also My Muse (And The Reason This Blog Exists)
My Mom’s the bomb!
Her name’s not Tom.
She deserves much great aplomb.
She’s older than a CD-Rom.
This poem’s bad, unlike my Mom.
Filed under Poems
Let Life End As It Began
I want to die of an orgasm.
It’s a death that would leave me content
And the folks at my wake
Would say “for goodness’ sake
“That poet, he came and he went.”
The Daily Travesty 