I live, I laugh,
I breathe, I smile.
I’m a giraffe
And my name is Kyle.
You wouldn’t kill me
For my meat.
So thanks for that.
You’re real neat.
Tag Archives: Postaday
The Poem That Convinced 300 Million Americans Not To Eat Giraffes On A Regular Basis
Filed under Poems
Important Decisions
I put as much thought
Into this rhyming verse
As Count Dracula put into
Choosing the model of his hearse.
Filed under Poems
The Inverted Cockroach Speaks Out
I’m lying on the floor
Rocking back and forth
And sobbing
But no one stops
Or offers sympathy.
Racist A**holes.
Filed under Poems
What I Look For In A Lady
I’d be wary of a felon
But she needn’t be a saint.
She eats food almost every day
And will very seldom faint.
She has two eyes, two nostrils too,
And her scalp is topped with hair.
Her days are always better
When she has access to breathable air.
I may sound picky when I say this
But she should have a mouth that can open.
Is there such a perfect girl?
Well, ’til we know, here’s hopin’.
Filed under Poems, Uncategorized
Art Appreciation, Chapter One
Visualize synchronicity:
The epiphanies stimulate
Largesse and postulation.
Improvement is realized through
Calamitous virtues,
And that is why pigs are green.
Filed under Poems
The Night Owl’s Fear
I’m quite afraid to say
But there’s been a terrible mistake:
It’s before 9:00 AM on a Sunday
And I’m up, about, awake!
I’m not tired, droopy, moody.
I’d say I feel okay.
I guess I’ll go to bed again
And hope it goes away.
Filed under Poems
It Works For Both Of Them
It’s 3:00 AM
And there’s nothing to eat
So I mudered my neighbors
And fried up their meat.
Then I turned on the news
And what did I see
But “2016 Election Coverage”
And a picture of me. 🙂
Filed under Poems
Not For You And Me
Grew up in a place
Wouldn’t know
Where pronouns have no place
Or so said so.
Before call something
Might regret later
Know that shouldn’t
Be a hater.
Filed under Poems
Heyyyyyy Ladies
Message if you want to,
But I’ll save you some time:
I love ’90’s country music
And I don’t want a partner in crime.
If you don’t use “whom correctly”
Or distinguish “your” and “you’re”
Stay friendly with your loneliness
For I won’t be your cure.
I’m a diehard Libertarian
And I earn a poet’s wage.
I’m more honest than you’d like
And look nothing like Nick Cage.
If you’ve endured this poem
Without committing seppuku
Then here is what I will repeat:
Message if you want to.
Filed under Poems
Being Tall
Do I say I’m 5’11”
To seem as if I’m honest?
Do I say that I’m 6-foot-1
Because that is the truth?
Do I say that I’m 6-foot-3
‘Cause you’ll subtract two inches?
Or do I just say F*** it
And come off as uncouth?
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 