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.
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Tag Archives: Postaday
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.”
58008 is the new 90210
More men than women study math,
Professionally at least.
This is true from North to South
And also West to East.
It’s not because women are dumb
Or men like math by fate…
It’s that all boys love what happens
When you invert 7,251×8.
Filed under Poems
It’s 11:48 And I’m A Horrible Person
Today I cut onions
And everyone cried.
Onions was a good dog;
It’s a shame that he died.
Filed under Poems
Other Viable Weapons Include Chihuahuas, Telemarketers, And The Music Of Taylor Swift
Are you unhappy?
Perhaps you’re depressed?
You want to shoot up a school
Because you’re so stressed?
Don’t grab your assault gun
And make hunters sad.
Instead, grab some kale
And do something bad.
If a few more folk heroes
With defective prozac
Go out with a bang
Via kale attack
The liberals will ban it
And the world will shout “yay!”
To leave your legacy
That’s the very best way.
Filed under Poems
Prudent Advice Too Often Overlooked By Those Committing Revisionist-History Infanticide
If you went back in time
To kill Hitler as a baby
You probably should consider
That someone else just maybe
Might go back in time again
This time to kill you
‘Cause you’re a time-traveling baby killer
As far as they knew.
That’s why if you ever
Change history somehow
By traveling to the past
To influence the now
I think it’s important
To leave a detailed letter
Explaining how killing babies
Can make the world better.
Filed under Poems
The Circle Of Life
Beneath the cloudless golden sky of Summer,
Atop the countless rainbow leaves of Fall,
In the stinging hail and drifting snow of Winter,
I lived happily ever after after all.
And in the rains and flowery winds of Springtime
When life, besieged by Winter comes to mend,
I find a big ass spider in my shower
And the fairy tale (and spider’s life) must end.
Filed under Poems
