A candle popped over my head
As my epiphany did start:
Perhaps making that time machine
Turned out to not be smart.
Tag Archives: Silly
Goodness Me, Is That More Than 100 BPM My Good Sir?
When your heart beats really fast
That’s tachycardia
(Or so the doctors would have you believe).
But if your heart beats quickly
And you’re upper-middle class
It’s classycardia. (Ok, I’ll leave)
Filed under Poems
This Is Why Horses Became Popular In The Wild West
When robbers hold their guns out
And bellow, “Stick ‘em up”
The whole ordeal is really rather crass.
But it gets even worse
When they try to rob the livestock
‘Cause then the robbers “Stick ‘em up” your ass.
Filed under Poems
Take That, Inspirational Posters!
They say money can’t buy happiness
And maybe they are right
But money can buy spiders
That you can give people out of spite
And spiteful spider-giving
Puts a smile on my face
When I put those “money can’t buy” people
In their rightful place.
Filed under Poems
When You Live In The USA (Instead Of China, Turkey, Israel, Chile, Chad, or Georgia, FYI)
So there’s a country named for plates
And one for Thanksgiving birds.
One country claims it is real
But misspelled the last two thirds.
One is hot peppers. One’s just a name.
One is a Southeastern state.
And we’re just three stupid letters
With no puns attached. This I hate.
Filed under Poems
Pronunciation Matters
The church tells us
That prejudice is bad.
On the other hand, pre-Judas
Were the best years Jesus had.
Glad I Minored In Minion Studies
I want to be a comic sidekick
Who is dorky but also inspiring.
I’ve no fears, I jerk tears, and bring laughter
But nobody seems to be hiring.
At least I can bring home some bacon
And dress in ridiculous ways
Right here at Volcanic Hideaways Inc.
Until evil brings about better days.
Filed under Poems
English Empire? Hold My Beer…
We asked Canada to become a state
But they responded with only hate.
What was poor America to do
But extend the offer to Venezuela too?
Filed under Poems
Move Over, Tae Kwon
In the distant German mountains
The cloistered monks abide,
Perfectly fermenting
The hidden power that’s inside.
They slice a cabbage handily
With their German ninja blade,
Discovering through discipline
How real strength is made.
They drink not wine but vinegar
As they battle high and low,
The secret monk practitioners
Of the great art: Sauer Do.
Filed under Poems
D&D, 1980s Edition
Demon worshippers
Moulding children to their will
Using dice and math.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 