I went to the range
To learn how to shoot.
I had me a gun
For to have me a hoot.
I pulled me a trigger
And I used my head
And thanks to my prudence
No targets ended up dead!
Tag Archives: Postaday
JurASSic Park?
I’ve debated for a while
The moral consequences
Of selling my body for money.
But when I undress
I find to my distress
That people just think it is funny.
So I hired somebody
Who looks a bit like me
To portray me in screenwritten sex.
He’s an older man
With a history in movies
Named Tyrannosaurus Rexxx.
Filed under Poems
A Commoner Poem
If I were cast in Game of Thrones
I think I’d be a peasant
‘Cause I’m a lousy actor
And my death would be more pleasant.
Filed under Poems
True Story Guest Post: The Epic of Hwy 99
Such a travesty is BC Hwy 99I think the guys who built it were blind
Or perhaps were very drunk
This road doesn’t make sense to a duck.
The road was built for Mario Cart
Level one is 340 degree turns
Level two is curves that lead to un-marked one-lane bridges
Level three add turning trucks
And if that isn’t more than enough
Level four the deer are suicidal.
Level five we take away the road signs
Level six adds falling rocks
Level seven adds the rain
Level eight is and 15% grade
Level nine is 10 km/hr on that grade
I don’t want to reach level ten —
Not even the Buddha has that level zen.
JOFFRE LAKES!
Now it all makes sense!
And at the village intersection
As the clock strikes midnight,
We pass the bloody Grim.
And across a bridge we go
To be warned of washout conditions.
I have 99 problems
And this road is all of them.
Filed under Poems
I Stole These Jokes And Made Them Rhyme… You’re Welcome
A Mexican magician
Was the epitome of grace.
He would count “uno, dos,”
Then disappear without a tres.
He did this trick in Europe.
When he reappeared he said “mama mia!”
Then he asked “can you see me now?”
And the crowd said: “Yes, oui, si, ja.”
Filed under Poems
What We Really Mean
Happy birthday Facebook friend!
This past year your life didn’t end.
You didn’t factor much into my life.
We’re only friends ’cause of my wife.
Filed under Poems
Why Not “Sally?”
Everyone compares me to Godzilla,
Which is weird because she’s ugly and I’m cute.
She’s a monster, but I’m an ordinary teenager.
Guess that’s what happens when your name is “Satanewt.”
Filed under Poems
Limited Time Opportunity, Depending On How Lazy I Am This Week
So as ye loyal readers
Saw yesterday, the first
Copy of my newest book
(And probably the worst)
Arrived for me
To proofread and add
A few more poems
That are suitably bad.
Now I’m a lazy person,
Of which I’m often proud,
And it may take me a while
To proof the book as I’ve avowed,
So if you have a topic
You would like a poem about
I’ve got some comments down below
In which you can give a shout.
So if you have a favorite
From the blog or in your head,
Or you’d prefer a poem
That’s original instead
Please share the information
And hey! What do you know?
A poem about barracuda urology
Might just get published, yo!
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
Dating A 30-Year-Old
You ask will I love you
When you’re not a young lass,
When your hair’s gray and saggy
And so is your ass,
When the passion is gone
And the money is thin
And everything hurts
‘Neath our wrinkly skin.
Our hands come together
And I look straight at you.
“Of course I will darling!
“I already do.”
Filed under Poems
Why I Will Encourage My Future Children To Be Suicide Prevention Counselors And/Or Trampoline Truck Drivers
I hear the smooth jazz
And hit the button for roof,
My heart beating its last,
My face held aloof.
The smog smiles wryly
As the doors slide aside.
I stand still for a moment,
The last time I’ll ever bide.
The horns ring below
From the unthinking mob,
Too tired to be angry,
Too doleful to sob.
The pigeons sing glumly.
I think of my sins.
Below the light turns red.
And my plummet begins.
My mind is cold silver
Filled with screams from below
Yet the light’s green again
And the cars start to go.
And then my fall ends
Not with New York concrete
But a trampoline truck
Driving by on the street.
I find myself soaring
Up and up, past the sky
Even frat boys would say
“He’s really high.”
I fly off the planet,
Gently drop to the moon
Where I land next to Elvis
Atop a dusty gray dune.
Somehow I’m still breathing.
Somehow I’m not dead.
Somehow all this happened
Just like my therapist said!
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 