As she slid the dollar bill
Between my boxers and my abs
I came to the conclusion
Grandma shouldn’t have opened a tab.
Tag Archives: Poetry
The Best Revenge Is A Fifth Grade Band Student
Blow ye trumpet!
Blow yer horn
From sunset ‘til
Tomorrow morn’.
Bugle brightly
As if in labor
For I’m out of town
And I hate my neighbors!
Filed under Poems
There May Also Be Breeding Involved…
There once was a digital horse
Who ran with electrical force.
It’s in my girlfriend’s phone
And now I’m alone
‘Cause she’s busy racing, of course!
Filed under Poems
A Boy Becomes A Man (Mouse Saga Pt. 2)
Snap crackle pop
Is the sound you hear
When you pour rice crispies
And have some fun.
Snap crackle pop
May also appear
When the mouse trap makes
Your husbandly duties done.
Filed under Poems
Confessions of an Art Professor
Sure, his work was childish
And adequate at best…
Did I give too much homework
Or too difficult a test?
Perhaps I judged too harshly…
I didn’t know I’d cause a fuss
When I told my student, Adolf,
That he’d earned a big D+
Filed under Poems
Predicting the Future
The year was 2055
And Disney was somehow still alive.
Their greatest writer stood and said
“What if Black Panther was white instead?”
And coast to coast the people caved
As bloggers whined and critics raved
And I, at 60 years, just sat
Rewatching Shrek, and that was that.
Filed under Poems
For When You Like Basketball But You Like Watching White People Play It For Some Reason
March is the month where on TV
Are a bunch of teenage guys
Who compete to hold onto their balls
With other men of unusual size.
The best at making balls go swish
Will win. Others suffer sadness,
And that is why they call this event
By the appropriate name, March Madness.
Filed under Poems
The Ballad of Yargh
Once in the land of Kibosh
In the castle between worlds
Was the mighty warrior, Yargh,
And the dice he deftly hurled.
He gambled with the gnomes and elves
And other clever fey
But lightning struck and Yargh’s great luck
Won the money and the day.
A fighter yes, so strong and bold
With blood as cold as ice
But we sing not of his prowess
With the blade, but of the dice.
So sing of Yargh the fortunate,
The winner of our game.
His only lack of luck is that
His parents chose that name.
Filed under Poems
