I’m living life in such a way
That if anybody would
Try to steal my brain for science
Science would say, “No thanks, I’m good.”
Tag Archives: Silly
In This Game The Unicorn Gives Her Money To Go To The Dream World…
There once was a woman (my wife)
Who experienced female strife.
I bought her “Unicorn Princess” for the switch
And now she’s not so much of a… stressed person
And what is going on with my life?
Filed under Poems
As Promised : )
My Mom made me many meals
When I was but a qsuirt.
She proofreads my poetry
And ironed me a hsirt.
Without her I’d have rwinkly clothes
(And I’d be nonexistent).
Thank you, Mom, for all you’re love
And keeping me consistent!
Filed under Poems
What Was His Angle?
There once was a man born in Samos
Whose math teacher told him to vamoose.
He said “Bitch, I’m Pythagoras!”
Then proceeded to stagger us
With the theorem to measure a hypotenuse.
Filed under Poems
No Respect (But So Far No Consequences…)
Far away, in the Land of Grent,
There was a forbidden shrine
Where the chosen champions meant
To make their mark and dine
Among the Gods, and so they spent
Their days praying to the divine.
My cat, however, just up and went
And peed in the holy wine.
Filed under Poems
When You’re 29 And Your Brain Ain’t Like It Used To Be
Some like it hot.
Some like it cold.
Some start their poem with the same cliche two days in a row
Because hey, I’m tired and old.
Filed under Poems
I Actually Wrote A French Poem Too, But If You’re Reading This You Probably Don’t Like That Kinda Thing
If I were born in France
I’d have had a harder childhood.
I’m a pretty nerdy dude
Which means it wouldn’t be too good
To be in school and hunted
Like hounds hunt a fox
Except I’m French, to I’d surrender
To all the athletic Jacques.
Filed under Poems
We All Know A Group Like This…
There once was a five minute break
Between 8:30 and 8:37.
It was twelve minutes long
Until cake came along
And we all reconvened at 11:00
Filed under Poems
When You’ve Had Enough Of These Idiots, But You’re In The Middle Of A Raid
Some call it soda.
Some call it pop.
Some call it cola.
I tell them to stop.
They call me a downer,
A prophet of doom
So I logged off my game
And I left my room.
Filed under Poems
Past, No Presents, And Eternity
The saddest nights in history
Are probably the fall of Rome,
The night you watch the start of “Up”,
And when Santa worked from home.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 