I hope somewhere there is a bat
Who’s terrified of men
Who flew off to train with ninjas
And (insert syllables here) then
He became a vigilante
Fighting crime and stuff like that.
He holes up in his man cave
Because he’s called Manbat.
He wears a man-shaped costume
With a cape that’s shaped like fat.
The drives his manmobile badly
Because he is a bat.
I want this very badly
Mostly ’cause of the “man cave” pun.
His sidekick is called Flamingo
And yes, this poem is done.
Filed under Poems
I drew a little stickman
Sitting in a tree
Holding a banana
And my friend said “Chimpanzee.”
I made the stickman hairier
And made his muscles big
And made his nose look stubby
And my friend said “Chimpanzee?”
I made stickman hold a lady
And stand on a skyscraper
And the light in my friend’s eyes turned on
And he said “Big chimpanzee.”
Then I pointed at the picture
And gestured for a while,
Drew the same picture again
And my friend began to smile
And as the sand fell from the timer
He sat up straight and tall
And said “That is Godzilla,”
So I threw him through a wall.
Filed under Poems
If someone shows you their colon
You really ought to be hopin’
That the parentheses that follows it
Is closed rather than open. : )
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My top-three emojis on my phone
Are 🎆, ❤️, and 🤑.
I consider this proof I’m American.
Also (just to rhyme): 🐇
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Blue are the violets.
Red are the roses.
In this era of graphical innovation
Why do none of these 😀 have noses?
Filed under Poems
If I were in the army
Instead of throwing grenades
I’d throw bottled beverages
Like juice and lemonades
And while our foes are hydrating
And their smiles reach their eyes
That’s when I’d throw my grenade.
#ElementOfSurprise
Filed under Poems
My dad has the heart of a lion.
My mom has the heart of a gnu.
Sure, my dad has better taste
But they’re both banned for life from the zoo.
Filed under Poems
Find a deck of shuffled playing cards.
Pick a random card and write it down.
Then think of the number of letters
In the name of your favorite town…
If you subtract the number you thought of
From how often you think of French maids
You’ll find that the card you have written
Is in fact the seven of spades.
Filed under Poems
My friend has 70 statues of legs.
I don’t know how he got ’em,
But I know if he ever spanks a statue
He’ll likely hit rock bottom.
Filed under Poems
My Mom’s the bomb!
Her name’s not Tom.
She deserves much great aplomb.
She’s older than a CD-Rom.
This poem’s bad, unlike my Mom.
Filed under Poems
I want to die of an orgasm.
It’s a death that would leave me content
And the folks at my wake
Would say “for goodness’ sake
“That poet, he came and he went.”
More men than women study math,
Professionally at least.
This is true from North to South
And also West to East.
It’s not because women are dumb
Or men like math by fate…
It’s that all boys love what happens
When you invert 7,251×8.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 