Is bacon in Canada
Canadian bacon?
Is a pig in Guinea
A guinea pig?
Is this issue important
Like I seem to be makin’
Or is it an issue
Not nearly so big?
Tag Archives: Postaday
Flowers
I said my favorites are forget-me-nots
Then I read about botany
And learned about I-shit-you-nots
And now, well, they are notany.
Filed under Poems
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. 😉
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!
Filed under Poems
*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.
Filed under Poems
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?”
Filed under Poems
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.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
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.
Filed under Poems
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/
Filed under Poems
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…
Filed under Poems
