I want to see a movie
Unlike the Wizard of Oz
Where some guy from a magic world
Turns into a lost cause.
He’s trapped in a tornado
And carried to a place
Where the world is all in black and white
And munchkins hate his face.
He travels many miles
Down an unremarkable trail
To a city where a beurocrat
Says his journey’s doomed to fail.
It would be a dismal movie,
That makes you want to drink some Mace.
That said, I’m sick of “Game of Thrones”
And this could take its place.
Filed under Poems
I think that caffeine
Is good for your spleen,
And I have evidence to back it up:
How often have you seen
Someone hurt a healthy spleen
While savoring something in a Starbucks cup?
Filed under Poems
Waiting at the DMV
Is not too bad for me.
Maybe it’s painful for you,
Not being “R362.”
As they serve R529
I continue to feel just fine.
Then they call up R360
And we’re one step closer to helping me!
A few minutes later R361.
I am almost having fun.
And then there’s R363.
Did they really just skip me?
I bring my ticket to the desk
And ask them straight-up, “what the hesk?”
They say to kindly sit and wait.
I’m now R758.
Filed under Poems
Wild chickens of the North;
Black and white, they sally forth.
Their wings are much akin to fins.
That much I know of penguins.
Filed under Poems
The sun shines down,
Hot as myself.
I lie on a beach
With a dwarf and an elf.
My shining armor
Makes Gondor girls swoon.
It’s been a long, happy day
And it’s only noon.
Somewhere near Mordor
They’re killing the ring
And I’m just here like,
“I should be king.”
Sometimes I think
I should go help them out,
But Gollum’s got that covered,
Without a doubt.
So I sip margaritas
And smile a bit wider.
Someone calls me “sir.”
I say “please, call me Strider.”
But as the days pass
I grow somewhat bored.
When will they be finished
Reforging my sword?
Filed under Poems
A rose by other names
Smells the same.
But poems would be lame
If flowers had a different name.
There would not be “flower power”
But instead “flength strength.”
I might pick a dozen gwazzles
Or a bouquet of mength.
I think you get the point,
And I’m running out of time.
This poem wasn’t flengthy
And very easy to rhyme.
Her grew up studying ninjitsu.
He thought it would be fun
To join the teenage mutant turtles,
But he was 21.
Filed under Poems
I’ve heard something about women
That makes me incredulous,
That when women live together
They synchronize their monthly schedule. Is
This true, I wonder?
And if it’s truly so
If you need to adjust your “schedule”
Is their a place you can go
Where various dominant women
With different monthly climes
Charge money to reassign “events”
To more convenient times?
You say these clubs do not exist?
Should someone start one then?
If we don’t ask, we’ll never know.
Yours sincerely,
Men
Filed under Poems
If I were a fish
Swimming in the sea
I would look around with wonder
At all the life surrounding me.
I would stare at hermit crabs,
Their houses on their backs.
I would delight in flounders
In the deepest ocean black.
I would gaze upon the lobsters
With their rubber banded claws,
And upon the mermaids
In their little seashell bras.
I’d make fish-eyes at swimmers
And I’d maybe speak in whale.
I’d kill eater rats in the basement
‘Til I could level-up my tail.
And then when I was happy,
Experienced and strong
I’d bite down on a hook
And string a fisherman along.
But after my escape
I would not foresee
That the fisherman was angry
And had some TNT.
And so my final moments
Would be flashy and gory.
As I toss the dynamite from my boat
I tell myself this story.
