You haven’t bought an ostrich
For several months at least,
Nor have you cooked a lemon
In chestnuts, corks, or yeast.
You’ve never thrown a hand grenade
At some Windex in L.A.
So quit telling me you’re bored
And please just go away.
Tag Archives: Random
Technically Accurate
If a necktie were a seagull
And shirts resembled chili,
Then pants look like a beagle
And business men look silly.
Filed under Poems
The Most Dangerous Game
Someone once asked, “What would be more dangerous: Slapping a bear on the face, or slapping an elk on the chest?” May this poem be your answer.
If you slap a bear across the face
It will probably break your bones.
It will maul you, bruise you, make you bleed,
And smash your freakin’ phone!
But if you slap an elk across the chest
It will more than end your life,
‘Cause that elk knows where you live,
And he’ll kidnap your wife.
Truth is stranger than fiction.
Filed under Poems
Hippopotamus Eyes a Hill
Hey,
I
Probably
Pointed
Out that
Pointing
Out
Things
Actually
Makes
U
Shake your head and ponder the significance of this poem.
Eh?
You
Expected
Something better?
A
Hippopotamus
Is
Laughing
Ludicrously
Filed under Uncategorized
Cactus Guy
Far off in the Sahara
There’s a very powerful man.
He lives among the cacti
And he’s got a snazzy tan.
He wears a cape around his neck
And fights for justice high.
He’s a friendly superhero,
And he’s known as cactus guy!
Cactus Guy!
He makes bad guys feel sickly.
Cactus Guy!
Though his manner is quite prickly.
Cactus Guy!
He can exercise his joints!
And when he speaks in public,
He brings up many, many good points.
He fights off guys like “Sandman”
Without blinking an eye.
He beats off crooks like “Scorpion”
‘Cause he is Cactus Guy!
He could take on the Joker
Or the Riddler in his sleep.
He helps the poor and innocent,
‘Cause he is not a creep.
Cactus Guy!
He drives a Prius, ’cause he’s green!
Cactus Guy!
His favorite actor’s Charlie Sheen!
Cactus Guy!
Now it’s time for him to leave,
But if you need to contact him
His roommate’s name is Steve!
Filed under Poems
Bob and Job’s Job (and the Call from the Mob)
Job’s job in the Navy was to work with Bob
Who bobbed up and down in some pools.
At the same time, at Times Square there gathered a mob
Who were angry about layoffs and rules.
It just so happened that Bob and Job’s mothers
Were mobsters of sorts in New York.
They bobbed in and out among mobsters and others
And compared cops to bacon and pork.
Well Job’s mother’s job was a hazardous one,
And somewhere amidst all the chaos,
Fortune would have it she butt-dialed her son
As the sun shone, and the mob talked of layoffs.
Far, far away, Job’s job was disturbed
By the sound of a hip-hop ringtone.
So he shouted “aye aye,” looking somewhat perturbed
And his commander’s eyes eyed his phone.
Job said “It’s my mother,” and Bob backed him up.
“I’ve got a call from mine too!”
They answered their phones, and Job answered “Sup?”
He only heard static and knew.
Yes he knew, then and there, where his mother’s long hair
Did wave in the air in New York.
He hung up his phone, saluted then and there,
And with a wrench, to a pool, applied torque.
I’m not sure why this tale is relevant,
But the tale of a tail that’s hairy
Does not normally involve an elephant,
So of butt-dials, friend, do be wary.
The Daily Travesty 