Tag Archives: Postaday

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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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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…of Wrath?

You may not think it’s fine

To live life as a mulcher

At a vineyard, but don’t whine

Just ’cause you’re part of grape culture.

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A Poem For Those Of Us Who Can’t Fit The Big Picture In Our Tiny Apartments

Every three seconds

An orphan is made,

A war is begun,

Someone doesn’t get laid,

Someone dies of starvation,

A champion strikes out,

Yet whether or not I want pizza’s

All I’m thinking about.

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Employment Is Overrated

It’s late

And I’m tired.

That’s what happens

When you get hired.

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Happy 3.6630137th Anniversary! (Give or Take)

Yesterday I got a badge

From my blog on WordPress here

That said “you’ve made 1,337 posts.”

Of that I’m glad to hear.

I wonder about the programmer

Who came up with that badge though.

Why 1,337 is so important…

Will we ever really know?

Sure, there is 1,000.

There is 2,000 too.

1,500, 999, or even 2,002.

But 1,337

Was the number this guy chose.

Well, thanks for sticking with me

And sharing moments just like those!

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…And That Proves My Toughness (Or Something)

My Uncle was a pussy.

My Grandpa was a wimp.

My Father was a chicken

And my Brother is a shrimp.

My Cousins are all cowards

And my Nephews are namby-pamby

Just ’cause I’m the guy

Who shot the mom of Bambi.

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But What Does Salt Smell Like Anyway?

I danced a sappy sort of waltz-

The type that’s rife with lots of schmaltz.

The I passed out, demonstrating my faults.

That’s why I’m grateful for smellingsalts.

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Chicken Couplets (Guest Poem from S-BC”CAG”BPCTWMYB[P])

By Katy:
Chickens are so much maligned,

But if you look I think you’ll find

That if a chicken lays an egg or two,
That’s much more work than me or you. 
When you die it’s with a selfish craze,

But a chicken gives back with a ginger glaze!

And so to chickens you should be kind,
For they seem most helpful to my small mind. 
Thanks Katy!

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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Huh? Sounds Good!

Clamp, crumple, jumble, clash.

Plump, pilfer, globule, brash.

Dimwit, sphincter, clasping, plinked.

This poem means nothing, but it sure sounds distinct!

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