Tag Archives: Poetry

As For Me… I Was A Goldfish

Benny was a hamster,

An upper-middle class rat.

He lived seven years

In a house with a cat.

He suffered anxiety

Throughout his meager years.

Then he was eaten and came back

As a worker at Sears.

This tale is bland

At face-value only.

It’s a tale of courage

Despite being lonely.

I urge you, have compassion

For all that you meet

For in a previous life

They may have been meat. 

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Why I Love Baseball

“Batter Up!” The umpire yelled,

And then he screamed in fright

As the crowd smeared uncooked pancakes on themselves

And ran off into the night.

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I Hope The Punchline Won’t Drive You Away

Whenever I’m awake at night

Not able to go to sleep

I’ll sneak outside so quietly

Without making a peep

And head off to the landfill

Where old car parts fill a ditch

And I snuggle up with a Michelin,

Bridgestone, or BFGoodrich.

You may just think I’m sleezy,

Like my brain somehow misfired,

But it’s the only way I know

To get really good and tired.

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Jesus Christ, Millennial

I want a pet Tyranosaurus

And a 10,000 square-foot house.

I want a 90-inch computer

And a solid platinum mouse.

I want the watch that Elvis wore

And a phone that does my dishes

But I can only walk on water

And play with loaves and fishes.

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Good Days

It’s tough to write a daily poem

About daily terrible things

When nothing bad happens.

This poem is self-evident.

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The Rich Man Thinketh

I’ve developed a nasty growth,

A blighting blob of bloat

Called a sense of self-importance.

I have a strong desire to gloat.

Considering my presence

On this great orb on which we float

I realize how unhealthy this is,

Yet I’ll still buy that fur coat.

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Forrest Gump 2: Lost In New York

Life is like a box of chocolates:

It costs money and makes you fat.

Most people enjoy it as it kills them slowly.

Yeah, life’s a lot like that.

But it doesn’t have to be:

We can smile and and act as equals

Starting with something on which we all agree,

Specifically that most movies don’t need sequels.

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Saint Andrew Is Not Amused

Blasphemy is bad.

Blasphemy is wrong,

But set it to a salsa beat

And make a catchy song

And pierce your nose and beat your kids

And smoke cocaine out of a bong

And that’s why I got kicked out of my church.

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Vulcans Makes Sh*tty Poets

When I see your smiling face,

Your shining eyes and feline grace

I almost feel something at all

But then I don’t. So there.

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Vulcans Makes Sh*tty Poets

When I see your smiling face,

Your shining eyes and feline grace

I almost feel somethig at all

But then I don’t. So there.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems