Why do people always think
That I’m a creepy guy
Just ’cause I eat other humans?
Oh why, oh why, oh why?
Why can’t they come to love me
As a human, not a specter?
Heck, they made a TV show
All about Hannibal Lecter!
Why can I not find true love?
Why are all hearts filled with doubt?
I thought that lots of people
Liked to be romantically eaten out!
I’m entirely worthy of your trust
From my toes to my chin’s cleft!
And don’t mind the BBQ sauce shower…
It’s just something the old owners left.
Filed under Poems
Somewhere someone is dying,
Nobly becoming a martyr.
Somewhere someone is getting
Less than what for they did barter.
Somewhere someone deemed saintworthy
As “Patron of Muffin Tops” is anointed.
But here I’m alive and unrecognized
And somehow I’m not disappointed.
Filed under Poems
She’s a glass doll made of plastic,
A silent symphony,
A baby butterfly
But not a caterpillar, see.
She’s the sense of satisfaction
Men don’t get from buying shoes.
She’s a pomegranate seed,
But just the part without the juice.
She’s nonfat butter ice cream.
She’s that feeling of “just woke up.”
She’s everything and nothing
Which is probably why we broke up.
Filed under Poems
I flipped a coin. It landed heads.
I flipped again. It landed tails.
One or the other every time-
It is a trick that never fails.
I asked eight girls “wanna do it?”
Four of the girls thought it was funny
The others got a guy to dent my skull.
This is why people are attracted to money.
Filed under Poems
Mighty is the sword
And mighty is the pen:
If both of these are true
It’s safe to conclude then
The mightiest tool of all
Is the one and only Swordpen.
It writes with the blood
Of those it slays.
It’s Swordpenned many novels
And poems and plays.
It’s the only writing implement
With a crossguard I know.
It’s good with the ladies.
It’s middle name is “Bro.”
I wish I had a Swordpen.
It would be a cool thing to own.
Alas, the only swordpen
Is stuck in a Pencilstone.
Filed under Poems
Never chew your eyebrows off.
“Why would I?” You surely scoff.
“And also how?” You’ll likely say.
If you so choose you’ll find a way.
Thus my warning: Please don’t try.
For this you’re welcome. Now good bye!
Filed under Poems
It’s late
And I’m tired.
That’s what happens
When you get hired.
Filed under Poems
My Uncle was a pussy.
My Grandpa was a wimp.
My Father was a chicken
And my Brother is a shrimp.
My Cousins are all cowards
And my Nephews are namby-pamby
Just ’cause I’m the guy
Who shot the mom of Bambi.
Filed under Poems
$$$ $$ $ $$$$$$$
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Filed under Poems
Today I socialized again.
It’s becoming a bad habit…
Anyway, my friend and reader said
My opinion towards chickens is “stab it.”
I’ve written about chickens for dinner
And, yesterday, going to Hell.
All in all my poems about chickens
Do not treat them very well.
I wanted to amend my cruelty
Towards our egg-laying kin
And so I announce a contest
That upon this fine day shall begin!
Now a good contest must have a theme
And should recur on an oft-scheduled basis
And feature many a viewpoint
And not force the victor into cryogenic stasis.
My contest achieves all of these goals
And here’s what the contest is called:
The Semi-Bicentennial “Chickens Are Good”
Bad Poetry Contest That Will Not Make You Bald (Probably).
I’m seeking submissions from readers,
From other poets, artists, and guests
On the topic of the glories of chickens
And of a quality that won’t get an A on tests.
So comment your dubious poetry
About the glory of hens and of cocks.
Just comment them on this announcement
And just make sure that none of them rocks.
I look forward to reading your poems
And the chickens most likely do not
Because they’re illiterate morons.
(Now’s your chance to prove that they’re not)!
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
The Daily Travesty 