I went to a Motel 6
To a room filled with 8 lamps.
It seemed to me a haven
For only travelers and tramps.
Yet that Motel 6 I thought had been
Summed up as “dim and blah”
Was, to the moths that shared the room
A sort of Shangri La.
I went to a Motel 6
To a room filled with 8 lamps.
It seemed to me a haven
For only travelers and tramps.
Yet that Motel 6 I thought had been
Summed up as “dim and blah”
Was, to the moths that shared the room
A sort of Shangri La.
Filed under Poems
If someone shows you their colon
You really ought to be hopin’
That the parentheses that follows it
Is closed rather than open. : )
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My top-three emojis on my phone
Are 🎆, ❤️, and 🤑.
I consider this proof I’m American.
Also (just to rhyme): 🐇
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Blue are the violets.
Red are the roses.
In this era of graphical innovation
Why do none of these 😀 have noses?
Filed under Poems
I watched American cartoons
All day every day.
My dad said I should read more
So now I watch anime.
Filed under Poems
My dad has the heart of a lion.
My mom has the heart of a gnu.
Sure, my dad has better taste
But they’re both banned for life from the zoo.
Filed under Poems
Writing lousy poems
Is really not that hard.
It doesn’t take a lot of work
To be a blogging bard.
The only bit that’s difficult
Is deciding what to write,
Thus my meta-poetry
At 10 o’clock at night.
Filed under Poems
My friend has 70 statues of legs.
I don’t know how he got ’em,
But I know if he ever spanks a statue
He’ll likely hit rock bottom.
Filed under Poems
She killed a man in April.
By May she was convicted.
The day of her execution came;
Her heart, it was conflicted.
The guard came to her cell
And asked what her last meal would be.
She said “I don’t know. What do you want?”
#ReasonsForTheDeathPenalty
Filed under Poems
My Mom’s the bomb!
Her name’s not Tom.
She deserves much great aplomb.
She’s older than a CD-Rom.
This poem’s bad, unlike my Mom.
Filed under Poems
I want to die of an orgasm.
It’s a death that would leave me content
And the folks at my wake
Would say “for goodness’ sake
“That poet, he came and he went.”
Today I cut onions
And everyone cried.
Onions was a good dog;
It’s a shame that he died.
Filed under Poems