If you gave a guy from Zimbabwe
A billion dollars cash
He could buy a whole lot of cattle
And a man with a lot of cattle is rich,
But if you give an American guy
A billion dollars worth of cattle
He can send his enemies cow poop
For the rest of his life,
So who’s the real winner?
Filed under Poems
I hope somewhere there is a bat
Who’s terrified of men
Who flew off to train with ninjas
And (insert syllables here) then
He became a vigilante
Fighting crime and stuff like that.
He holes up in his man cave
Because he’s called Manbat.
He wears a man-shaped costume
With a cape that’s shaped like fat.
The drives his manmobile badly
Because he is a bat.
I want this very badly
Mostly ’cause of the “man cave” pun.
His sidekick is called Flamingo
And yes, this poem is done.
Filed under Poems
Today I’m bored and kinda tired,
For sure not feeling too inspired,
So a thought emerged within my head:
Let robots do my job instead!
So I was nit at all upset
When a robot said “I can write a rhyming couplet.”
I said “write me a country song,”
And here’s the poem that came along:
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See the hightailing of the cowboy,
I think he’s angry at the ahoy.
He finds it hard to see the horse,
Overshadowed by the rainy field of force.
Who is that yodeling near the saddle?
I think she’d like to eat the cattle.
She is but a rural addition,
Admired as she sits upon a position.
Her leather car is just a beer,
It needs no gas, it runs on steer.
She’s not alone she brings a dog,
a pet dog, and lots of parts catalogue.
The dog likes to chase a truck,
Especially one that’s in the dabbling duck.
The cowboy shudders at the country gun
He want to leave but she wants the bun.
——————————————————–
The poem’s bad, and I think it’s neat
That I am not yet obsolete.
Sure, technology is fun
But robots 0, human 1.
Filed under Poems
If I owned a magic candy cane
That could call thunder and rain
I’d try to die ASAP
So they wouldn’t think my life would be a good movie.
Filed under Poems
I wanted to play hockey
And be like a Canuck.
I settled for air hockey
But I didn’t have a puck.
A lot of you tuned out of the story
Because the last rhyme might be (from the record struck)
And for those of you who think that
Too bad! You’re out of luck.
(Hyuk, hyuk, hyuk)
Filed under Poems
This poem is like
A blue-footed booby:
It makes some people laugh
And won’t have any significant impact on your life…
Shadooby.
Filed under Poems
If birds ate at restaurants
I imagine KFC
Would be a lot more popular.
The reason might just be
That folks would eat at restaurants
Where birds would frequent less.
You might think that’s racist
But that’s my fairest guess.
Filed under Poems
