Whenever Italy gets attacked
Someone must fell Rome,
Someone conquers Cicily,
Burns a Venetian home…
Yes, in an Italian conquest
These sackings are the staples
But a satisfying extra
Is somebody licked their Naples.
Tag Archives: Silly
Being Humble Is Almost As Hard As My Abs
I know I need to be humble,
To be a non-judgmental guy,
But if I said that was easy
What I say would be a lie.
The fact of the matter is I am just
Incredible, without a doubt
To the point where the lesbians love me
And the straightest of men will come out.
When I step out of bed in the morning
The sun is ashamed to be seen
Because how can a glorious light like that
Compare to me? Know what I mean?
So yes, in my mind I’m aware
That humility would serve me well
So I offer my prayers to Heaven…
The same Heaven from which I fell ; )
Filed under Poems
When The Kisses Miss The Missus
When you refuse my kiss
I feel something’s amiss.
When you deny my peck
I think “What the heck?”
When you dodge my caress
I feel some duress.
When you deny being osculated
I feel emosculated.
Filed under Poems
Audubon Abbreviated
A group of owls is a congress,
A group of crows, a murder.
Anything else just call a flock
And you’ll pass as a birder.
Filed under Poems
New England Whalers (I Looked It Up)
Since I’m now in the habit
Of poems that are quick:
Whoever named Sperm Whales
Was really a dick.
Filed under Poems
But They Only Had Spoons… #Tragedy
Today I ordered Sierra Mist and a fork
For lunch at a drive-through.
Thus ends my presentation:
“Why I have more fun than you.”
Filed under Poems
Ballad of a Blacklight
I was born a lightbulb,
Just a magnet for a moth,
But I decided I’d be happy
If I were a goth.
So I donned some darkness
To become a blacklight demon.
I’d work to show cops where people
Cleaned up blood and semen.
But alas the business
Of policing wasn’t booming
And I sought some other jobs
With unemployment looming.
Now I make the alleys cosmic
Down at Downtown Bowl.
I may have sold out to the man
But I’m still a gothic soul.
Filed under Poems
[Title Redacted]
There once was a poet-slash-spy
Who was quite the mysterious guy.
He’d write the last thing he’d think
In invisible ink
.
Filed under Poems
Who Doesn’t Want 30 Pounds Of Escargot, After All?
You know that food you enjoy
Every once in a while,
That you can heat in a minute
And always makes you smile?
What if that niche pleasure
Came in a 500 pack for a dollar?
If you want to pay us to buy that
Just give old Costco a holler!
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 