I think rehabilitated homeless people
Should be called “Ikean Americans”
Because they used to live in boxes
But now they’re all put together
Just sayin’
I think rehabilitated homeless people
Should be called “Ikean Americans”
Because they used to live in boxes
But now they’re all put together
Just sayin’
Filed under Poems
Games Now
So each of you has a unique lord
That determines if you place your board
At the forest’s edge or river’s ford
Before you fight the endless hoard.
On your turn, you have three actions
To influence the seven factions
Through use of normal or dire impactions…
Oops! Here’s the glossary of contractions.
So, then, after the action phase
You choose which players fold or raise
And the loser of the wager pays
To choose which opponent the goblin slays.
Repeat like this for three more rounds
Until the hoard no longer abounds
At which point we imitate the sounds
Of the wyverns fleeing from the grounds.
The winner is the player who’s
Captured the most opponent’s clues
Without revealing their unique ruse
And after paying union dues.
Games Then
So you roll a pair of dice
And you move that many squares
And you pay each other money
Until no one really cares.
Filed under Poems
A # walked into a bar
Where an ! and a & are.
They met up with $
And the bartender hollered
“We don’t tolerate that $&#! here.”
Filed under Poems
If you never wear black clothes
And walk through parking lots at night
While making deep eye contact
With your cell phone, you just might
Never get to call your lawyer
And get ten-mil in compensation
For no reason other than
Having your legs lose all sensation.
Filed under Poems
I awoke with crack and a groan
In a house where I live on my own.
I ate soup from a can
‘Cause I’m an old man
And I still use a rotary phone.
Filed under Poems
The homework problem said:
“What is the natural log of 4?”
I said “I was raised a middle-class kid, and I’m the only person on the debate stage tonight who has a plan to lift up the middle class and working people of America.”
Apparently, I got a perfect score.
Filed under Poems
Oh muse, you flighty angel
Who fills my mind with light,
Why can’t you come when I’m working
And not the middle of the night,
For when I lay my head upon
My pillow, soft and dark,
I do not want to think about
Who would win: A truck or a shark.
Filed under Poems
Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall.
Ninety-nine bottles of beer…
The weather is dicey
But plywood is pricey
Thus ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall!
Filed under Poems
We’ve talked about Chinese food
Being cats for many a year
And I have to ask if Haitians
Are missing a franchise opportunity here…
Filed under Poems