I think that just before we’re born
We make like a video game;
We design our skills and appearances
And even pick our name.
I have evidence for my theory,
And you are my best case
‘Cause your fingers tend to slip a lot
And, well, look at your face!
Tag Archives: Postaday
Don’t Press “A,” Don’t Press… Oops
Filed under Poems
Already Been Chewed
I’ve been under your table.
I’ve been under your chair.
I’m a fixture in public bathrooms
And in little children’s hair.
You can find me on city sidewalks
From America to France.
Won’t you pick me up again
And give me a second chance?
Filed under Poems
Lone Survivor
I was driven this afternoon
To Lazy Susan isle
Where I hoped my friends and I
Could make our masters smile.
Alas, on our arrival
Our happy plan went wrong.
Our masters ate poor Jell-o,
And our fair Hostess, Ding-Dong.
I heard the screams of ice cream,
And the dying shrieks of cake.
I heard the moans of lady fingers
(Though I think those were fake).
How I survived I do not now,
But I’m alive to sing this ballad
Of the Lazy Susan massacre.
Yours truly,
Kale Salad
…At First Sight
If you were a cow
I’d give you a moo.
If you were the floor
I’d take a picture of you.
If you were a quiz show
I’d hazard a guess,
But since you’re a human
I couldn’t care less.
Traffic Jam
I put some rubber on my toast
Along with smog and frustration,
Mixed with a soupsant
Of despair and irritation.
It wasn’t a great breakfast,
But I didn’t want to shirk,
So I had toast with traffic jam
On my way to work.
‘Murica!
This poem is short
And not very funny,
Just like tax day
And my new lack of money.
Filed under Poems
The Value Of A Missing Letter
Carved of granite, nine feet tall,
He stares down and calls you small.
If your likeness, he is an imitation.
He is your statue of limitation.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
Three Day Weekend
I’m busy as an ugly hooker,
Yet I have no free time
To clean the house or exercise
Or come up with a requisite rhyme.
The lazy Sunday model
Is how every day should be.
I’m doing the same this Monday.
Let’s hear it: Who’s with me?
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
A Recipe For Disaster
A teaspoon of a crazy thought,
Two cups of your favorite beer,
A pinch of “well, it couldn’t hurt”
Absolutely zero fear.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 