Tonight I was a mighty warrior
Slinging balls of fire,
Casting down the many foes
Both minionesque and dire.
I spewed death from every pore
And slayed the vermin foul,
But when I leave the tavern’s basement
I throw in the towel.
Tag Archives: Postaday
Bowling
Bowling balls are very hard
And also very round.
When they strike the bowling line
They make a smacky sound,
And when the balls crash into all
The pretty pear-shaped pins
The guy who threw the ball says “whee”
And everybody grins.
Bowling balls have lots of holes
To slide onto your fingers
And when the game is over with
The happy feeling lingers.
You have to wear some public shoes
But that’s okay, I guess.
Bowling’s basically like sex
But doesn’t make a mess!
Filed under Poems
I’ve Got Bread, Plenty Of Dough, I Bring Home The Bacon, And Yet…
I have a six pack
Of orange creamsicles.
I have 12 inches
Of beef jerky sticks.
I go all night
When I chew my dill pickles,
And somehow I can’t seem
To pick up the chicks…
Filed under Poems
If You’re Reading This Enthusiastically, You’re Missing The Point
Happy happy happy.
Joy joy joy.
Yippee yippee yippee.
Oh boy oh boy oh boy.
I can’t wait. I’m excited.
I’m overwhelmed with wow.
If you think exclamation marks are dumb
You do not think so now.
Filed under Poems
Seriously, When Was The Last Time You Went To The Movies And Enjoyed It?
Someone in Hollywood decided
“What if instead of crappy flicks
“We badly remade everything people love
“And when they complain, say that they’re dicks?”
Everyone outside Hollywood
Disliked this judgement call,
But on the bright side, now people
See that books aren’t that bad after all.
Filed under Poems
Why I Love The 4th of July, Middle School Boy Edition
If not for British taxes
And the redcoats being weenies
We might not have these fireworks
And Stars-and-Stripes bikinis,
So I for one am grateful
For wigs and wasted tea
‘Cause now there’s baseball, big buffets,
And other big things that start with “B”.
Filed under Poems
A New Nemesis Emerges…
A silver goose on a crystal lake
Locks eyes with me at dawn
And ‘neath the sunrise orange it spake
And pooped upon my lawn.
Silver goose, an anarchist
Would soon my rifle eat…
Though I aimed wide, I will not miss
When next our twain shall meet.
Filed under Poems
Autobiographical, And An Apology In Advance If I Miss Tomorrow’s Poem
Once again this poem went
To the wilds, and pitched him a tent.
The wifi was iffy
But present, so spiffy!
On that wifi this poem is sent.
Filed under Poems
Sonnet For A Washcloth
Textured washcloth in a pastel color,
I love how my skin you exfoliate.
You make my oily skin look so duller;
For your great glory, I extoll ye, mate!
When I am lonely and in a great need
Of very crude and masculine release
I need no manual to for to read
To help you bring me to a restful peace.
You cost so little, less than fifty cents
And you loyally last my whole life long;
Textured pastel washcloth, I ask you whence
Did you become so grand, forever strong?
You are more than just a cheap toiletry;
You, my washcloth, are the best part of me!
Filed under Poems
Peasant Questions and Engineering Mysteries
Somebody asked “Why don’t they make
“The whole plane out of the stuff
“That they use to make the black box
“That’s all indestructibly tough?”
I told him, “it’s the same reason why
“They don’t make medieval knight’s armor
“With the stuff they use to make chainmail bikinis.”
He’s confused, but hey! He’s just a farmer.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 