Blasphemy is bad.
Blasphemy is wrong,
But set it to a salsa beat
And make a catchy song
And pierce your nose and beat your kids
And smoke cocaine out of a bong
And that’s why I got kicked out of my church.
Blasphemy is bad.
Blasphemy is wrong,
But set it to a salsa beat
And make a catchy song
And pierce your nose and beat your kids
And smoke cocaine out of a bong
And that’s why I got kicked out of my church.
Filed under Poems
When I see your smiling face,
Your shining eyes and feline grace
I almost feel something at all
But then I don’t. So there.
Filed under Poems
When I see your smiling face,
Your shining eyes and feline grace
I almost feel somethig at all
But then I don’t. So there.
Filed under Poems
Margot, Margot, Margot Robbie:
You make me want to go and see
A film I likely won’t enjoy
‘Cause you are you and I’m a boy.
Margot, Margot, Margot Robbie:
Watching you is my new hobby.
Your hair, when styled in tails of pig
Makes my… heart… grow twice as big.
Margot, Margot, Margot Robbie:
You’re my favorite celebrity since whoever played Dobby.
The only thing more beautiful in my eye
Would be a reboot of Firefly.
Margot, Margot, Margot Robbie:
You’re hotter even than wasabi.
This poem’s a joke written for you.
Yes, I’m a Joker, so love me too!
Margot, Margot, Margot Robbie:
Not being with you makes me sobby
But in the unlikely event you won’t be my vixen…
Shailyn, Shailyn, Shailyn Pierre-Dixon.
Filed under Poems
When I’m in your presence
I’m not sure how I feel,
Like my body’s made of clouds,
Like I’m not even real.
When other folks look my way
It’s like they see right through me,
But I know when I meet your eyes
I’m all you want to see.
I may doubt my own existence
And you do too, maybe,
But know whatever happens
You’ve got an imaginary friend in me.
Filed under Poems
They see me in an empty room
Running in circles without any cares.
What they don’t know is that I am losing
A one-person tourney of musical chairs.
Filed under Poems
The world is really beautiful
But doesn’t have enough
Cheese-based lukewarm beverages
(And generally lukewarm-cheese stuff).
Filed under Poems
Why did the [subject]
[action in past-tense]?
Because [satisfying irony],
But that’s just my two cents.
Filed under Poems
If I were a Nigerian prince
With a million bucks to spare
I’d buy all the world’s balloons
To fill with mountain air,
Then withhold them from the peasants
Instead of sending cash to you
‘Cause that’s a dick decision
And it’s what dictatorial princes do.
Filed under Poems