Of glorious, glorious, glorious cheese
I sing a glorious story
About how glorious you are,
You cheese so full of glory.
Glorious, glorious, glorious cheese,
You’re glorious, it’s true!
I couldn’t afford a thesaurus
Because I bought too much of you.
Tag Archives: Short
Math Meets Meth
They said “Name every number.”
I said “Paul.”
They couldn’t refute my argument
And, thus, that was all.
Filed under Poems
Talking to the Recruiter
What’s the best job in the army?
It’s Minesweeping, they say;
You do everything right for years
Then your problems go away.
Filed under Poems
Legolas and Pitiless
There are lots of similarities
Between Epstein and Tolkien’s elves:
Both hang around with youngsters
And neither of them kill themselves.
The Model Meets The Gamer
I’m young and very beautiful
As you can clearly see,
And so I guess you’re losing sleep
So oft you think of me?
…
It’s true that you are beautiful,
It’s true that you are young,
But I think of you as often
As the flavor of my tongue.
Filed under Poems
When You’re Not Sure Who To Offend…
At the 5K Run for white power
People called me “Hitler” to my face.
I disagreed with them, explaining
“Unlike Hitler, I can finish a race.”
Filed under Poems
Bless Me Son, For I Done Sinned
A while ago I wrote a poem
About how to be your own son.
Recently, through Jesus,
I wrote another one:
If you are a grandfather
Of your son’s male offspring
I’m happy to report that you
Can do an exciting thing…
If your son joins the clergy
As a Presbyterian
And you go to his church
Your grandkid is your Father’s son.
Filed under Poems
How Dare I?
I don’t think it’s funny
And I don’t think it’s strange
To have autistic teenagers
Opposing climate change.
I find it quite the opposite,
A much welcomed relief
To show that neurotypicals
Need not hold their belief.
Filed under Poems
Just Pause For A Second…
The difference between a joke
And a poem’s not the rhyming;
A poem’s funny if it’s true,
But why’s a joke funny timing.
Filed under Poems
Wallace and Gromit
It’s truly not a hoax
That there are only two types of folks:
Those who think Wensleydale is cracking
And those whose education is lacking.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 