If you met a murderous clown
When you’re out for a night on the town
And they bought you a drink
What do you think?
Should you take it or turn Snuggles down?
Tag Archives: Short
A Little-Known Side Benefit Of Stairs
Somewhere between the lobby
And my destination floor
The elevator chose
Not to move up anymore.
Perhaps the lift malfunctioned
When the console met my fists
But hey, no more classic rock
With jazzy little twists!
Filed under Poems
Why I Don’t Go To Open-Mics Anymore
With a voice like something crushed between a bagpipe warming up
And an elephant gargling human teeth, kevlar, and 7-Up
She turned her face towards me (which neither she nor I enjoyed)
And said “Thank you for listening. That was “Hey you” by Pink Floyd.”
Filed under Poems
Peasant Problems
They told me to lift dumbbells
‘Cause my arms were far too thin.
I couldn’t check if they were right
‘Cause Congress wouldn’t let me in.
Filed under Poems
A Spartan Limerick
Imagine that after a battle
You found an Athenian child with the cattle…
The adopter would be thanked
But if the kid couldn’t be spanked
The adopters are up a Greek without a paddle.
Filed under Poems
Now I’m Going To Get A Bunch Of Calls And Texts From Concerned People Who Think I’m Depressed When, No, I’m Just Not Particularly Inspired And MyPrevious Poems Involved How Much I Hate Zucchini And Soccer So I Figured I’d Just Publish This One. (Also, Around The Time I Wrote “Poems” In This Title I Became Unable To See What I Was Typing Because My Phone’s Screen Is Too Small So Please Forgive Any Tupoes). Also, Is There A Limit To How Long A Title Can Be?
If I weren’t so cynical
I’d probably be equally sad,
Not because I’m cynical
But because the world’s just bad.
Another Dream Accomplished!
My dream is not too grandiose;
It’s simply to be less verbose.
Filed under Poems
Nice Guys Finish Last… It’s A Gift
All I want for Christmas
Is a lump of coal.
I hope I get one soon.
My only problem
Is I’m a good boy
And also that it’s June.
Filed under Poems
I Want To Be A Journalist Now
Some folks say women and men.
Some say females and males.
I say:
Some lives have a destination.
Some lives are about the journey.
Some people like kisses.
Some people prefer hugs.
Some are busy writing:
Cooked Allah Mode
There is a mighty crater here
Where recently there wasn’t.
Ali-Baba said his bomb works
And I said “No it doesn’t.”
Ali-Baba sure was right.
Correct ’twas the hunch he had,
But he misread the bombs locale.
Thus ended his jihad.
