Last night I read the Bible
‘Cause I was just that bored.
Apparently, “No one whose testicles have been crushed
Or whose penis has been cut off
May be admitted into the company of the Lord.”
So when you settle differences
With fists, and feet as well,
Just remember, a kick to the balls
Is literally a ticket to Hell!
Filed under Poems
People say that grammar
Doesn’t matter any more,
That vocabulary’s useless
And english is a bore.
What they do not realize
Is that the word you tried
Might turn a social program
Into massive genocide.
Take this proposition:
“Our mayor, Jim Metcalf
“Will, by 2025
“Cut homelessness in half.”
What a lovely world we’d have
And what a peaceful street
If Mayor Metcalf’s plan above
Was ever made complete!
Alas, the words they wrote instead
Were, “Mayor Jim Metcalf
“Will, within the next five years,
“Cut homeless people in half.”
To some, there’s nothing different.
To some, this sounds just fine
Until you realize just how
The Mayor crossed a line
Because the homeless person
Who was once in Bradley Square
Now has his legs on Main Street
But his torso’s over there!
Stop the death and carnage
And salute the grammar nerds,
For only you can save a life
By choosing proper words.
Filed under Poems
To those who value brevity:
Enjoy ironic levity.
Filed under Poems
Yew are the tree that sustains me.
U turn the sick to the well.
Ewe are so warm and so fluffy.
I love you although I can’t spell.
You’re poem touched me this evening.
Your the only one I think of now.
Their’s somewhere I know and soon they’re we’ll go
But let’s stick to spoken poems for know.
Filed under Poems
Leisurely athlete
With a camera on her head…
Yo, slow GoPro hoe!
Filed under Poems
In 36 minutes
The world goes on sale
And you can buy with a click
A big TV
Or game machine
Or even a bigger… machine.
You can spend
With a plastic card
From a company that travels to Venus
But you’ll still seek
A solution to
Your very tiny… bank account.
I didn’t mean
For this poem to be
This amount of long,
But then I thought
Of way too many
Things that rhyme with… ya know?
And so I end
With a big salute
To anyone named Morgan
And wish you
Happy Prime Day
And a poetic male organ.
Filed under Poems
I think a million-dollar income
Is an inalienable right
For everyone within an inch
Of six-foot-O in height,
And that all of those people
Should be worshipped as Gods
And based on modern politics
Such a change has decent odds…
If you play songs
In a rock and roll band
That includes no member
With a mammary gland,
Everyone has Y chromosomes
And speaks in few words
Then you might be a band
But you’re sure not The Birds…
Filed under Poems
All is well while you’re singing
Until your realize
Mary will eventually have a big sheep
Unless one of them dies…
And yet we have been singing this
Since time itself was made.
Do the Mary’s keep swapping
Or was a sweater made?
Filed under Poems
If they’re doing yoga,
Zumba, jazzercise or such
You’re likely in the Estrogym
And have a woman’s touch.
If they’re watching football games
And opening a beer
You’re gym is the Testosterzone,
The palace of good cheer.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 