Tag Archives: Postaday

March 23, 2017 · 12:36 pm

The Princess and the Tapeworm

We meet as if by fate

As quietly you chew your nails.

As the hour grows so late

We fall asleep and life falls off the rails.

Suddenly I’m in your head.

I listen to the signals your brain sends.

All of your nutrients are mine;

Your means will satisfy my ends!

You ate me up

And I’ll return the favor.

The taste of you’s

My brand new favorite flavor.

And now to you I sing this song

So you will never get me wrong:

I love you! You know it’s true

Even though I’m one inch long.

I hope you can digest the fact

I’ve gotten under your skin.

You’re losing weight, but just you wait

For our life together to begin!

Your pain is mine, and mine is yours.
I hope our love is true,

And even as you try to purge me

I’ll always have a special place inside of you.

You ate me up

And I’ll return the favor.

The taste of you’s

My longtime favorite flavor.

And now to you I sing this song

So you will never get me wrong:

I love you! You know it’s true.

By the way, I’m six feet long. 😉

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March 22, 2017 · 1:04 pm

If You’re Really Curious About The Consequences Though…

Never chew your eyebrows off.

“Why would I?” You surely scoff.

“And also how?” You’ll likely say.

If you so choose you’ll find a way.

Thus my warning: Please don’t try.

For this you’re welcome. Now good bye!

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March 21, 2017 · 6:27 pm

*Grunt of Approval*

If I could be a goblin

A gremlin or a ghoul

I’d go to sleep at 3:00 AM

And never go to school.

I’d eat pancakes every day.

I’d be my own boss.

If I were a monster then

I might forget to floss.

My room would be all messy.

My hair would be a wreck.

I’d spend the morning mini-golfing

With the live-action cast of Shrek.

And then I’d murder someone

And get slaughtered by a knight.

Sure, I could be a goblin

But right now my life’s alright.

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March 20, 2017 · 8:05 am

How’s Life

Fourty percent happy boredom,

Thirty percent sleep

Five percent is stuff

Which, for this blog, is too deep,

Ten percent is glorious joy,

Nine percent is shame,

Five percent is wanting donuts,

One percent is “crap, what was that guy’s name?”

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March 19, 2017 · 9:39 am

My Pledge Fir Self-Improvement (Typo Not Originally Intended, But Also Left Uncorrected For Irony’s Sake)

I’ve done a bit of research

In a casual sort of way

And I noticed quite a pattern

In the things I’ve got to say.

If I write a poem

About my lack of motivation

After weeks of doing lots

It gets a digital standing ovation.

If instead my lazy poems

Come two right in a row

You tell me what “a pair” is

And that it’s something I should grow.

What I’ve concluded from this study

Of a couple offhand posts

Is that all is fine and dandy

With parodies and roasts

But when I’m being honest

With my slothful true demeanor

You fail to appreciate

How the browner grass is greener.

The stanza which precedes this one

May not make sense to you.

I don’t get it either

So I’ll tell you what we’ll do:

Go ahead and “like” this poem.

Go and comment and subscribe.

Share it, tweet it, email it,

And show it’s how you gibe!

Now when you disobey me

And this poem gets zero “likes”

I can get off my high horse

And quit downing Mike and Ikes

And maybe in the future

I’ll come to realize

That writing better mediocrity

Has value in your eyes.

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March 17, 2017 · 10:32 pm

Just An Honest Reflection This Time (Plus Some Chihuly)

Getting up at 7:00 on a Saturday

Is the fate that awaits yours truly.

Maybe I wouldn’t have to

If I were a guy Dale Chihuly,

But I’m not an artist of fortune

Thus I cry “alack and alas!

“I’ve found my calling in bad poetry

When the real money’s in blowing of glass!”

So while my fate of rising early

Is sealed, as justly it should

At least I take heart in the knowlege

That the stakea are low if this poem ain’t good.

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March 16, 2017 · 11:02 am

Ode to Awesome Chickens (Guest Post from SB”CAG”BPCTWNMYB(P)

From Helen:

My chickens make me breakfast.

They’re the best that pets can get.

Eggs fried, poached, or scrambled,

And even omelette.

I object to killing chickens!

That’s simply just not right.

They give us free-range organic eggs

And even put themselves to bed at night.

Wyandots and Orpingtons,

Barred Rock, Black Copper Marans too.

If you sup on glorious chickens,

There’s something wrong with you!

My rooster calls out to his hens

for succulent treats like corn.

He guards against sneak hawk attacks

And even wakes me up in the morn.

Oh Eggs of many colors

My chickens lay for me.

Pink and blue and brown eggs

And even eggs of green.

My chicken each have fancy names

Miranda, Romona, and Stormy Blue.

You want to eat my pet chickens?

How could you! Shame on you!

If poultry poetry ain’t your thing,

I ask, Please don’t blame me.

All I did was complain about poultrycide,

Hence this bad poetry contest, You see?

Thanks Helen!

Do you think chickens are great and deserve to be recognized positively via the medium of mediocre poetry? Enter the Semi-Bicentennial “Chickens Are Good” Bad Poetry Contest That Won’t Make You Bald (Probably)!


Get the details here:
https://www.google.com/amp/s/thedailytravesty.com/2017/02/25/announcing-the-semi-bicentennial-chickens-are-good-bad-poetry-contest-that-will-not-make-you-bald-probably/amp/

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March 15, 2017 · 10:42 pm

What Brings The Anarchist To Lakeside Honda Sales

Glass lake,

Calm… serene.

As still and blue

As has ever been.

Glass lake,

The world’s eighth wonder.

In the distance…

Is that thunder?

Thunder rolling

Ever nearer

As Glass lake

Gets ever clearer.

Thunder’s louder.

Thunder’s struck.

Turns out thunder

Is my truck.

Thunder truck

Plunges forth

From the woods

With a sound like “Vlorsh!”

Into Glass lake

Thunder zooms

The serenity is gone

Replaced by fumes.

The ripples spread

As Thunder does sink.

That wasn’t as fun

As I would I would think…

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March 14, 2017 · 2:30 pm

Prejudice

Sometimes you call a woman “moody”

Or you call a black guy “thug”

Or you have “check your privilege”

Printed on your favorite mug.

You might call arabs “terrorist”

Or you might call asians “smart”

Or you might subtly look away

From indians painted in Western art.

You may distrust latinos

For as far as you can throw ’em.

You may discount pacific islanders

For not fitting cleanly in a poem.

Have I forgotten anyone?

Of course! Why, silly me…

You may dislike the lgbtq

Rstuvwxyz.

If you’re opposed to any group

And think they’re weird and lame

Go ahead and voice your feelings

So the snipers know where to aim.

And if I call you stupid

Or dismissively tell you “shoo!”

It’s not because I’m prejudiced…

It’s just that I don’t like you.

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March 13, 2017 · 8:40 pm

Chess: The Other Perspective

I like carmel. I like salt.

I like things that aren’t my fault.

I like chickens, ducks, and geese.

Star Wars rules. So does John Cleese.

I like monkeys, apes and such.

I like girls a bit too much.

What I don’t like is being made of wood

And shaped into a pawn. That just ain’t good.

I live a life of constant war.

In the middle I die, but the sides are a bore.

I don’t have films or birds or caramel

And, surrounded by pieces, I feel abnarmel

And that’s not all! In my whole world

There only is a single girl

Who’s married to my weak-ass boss

Who me into the fray does toss.

We are the lonely pawns, the guards,

And we hope one day you’ll decide to play cards.

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