A twenty-year-old white girl asked
Why mice seek out a trap.
Then she smiled and sang along
To ALL the gangster rap!
Tag Archives: Stupid
Modern Art
Harry stood on stage,
Took a deep breath,
And said, “The,” for forty days.
Every day another voice joined
For eleven and a half weeks.
On the forty first day,
Harry stood on stage,
Took another deep breath,
And said, “World,”
And the followers waited a day
Before echoing him.
And so it was that Harry
And the multitude who came after
Sang a round, “The World,” in eighty days.
Filed under Poems
Both are Mostly Empty…
“Airhead’s an offensive term,”
Said my girlfriend of 30 days.
I said, “Sorry, didn’t know.”
Now I call her “Bag of Lays.”
Filed under Poems
For Those Who Missed The Metaphor, The Dragon Is Poverty
The dragon was coming
To Farawayshire
To eat many virgins
And breathe lots of fire.
The lord of the town said
“‘Fraid of dragons we aint,
“For I have procured us
“A fireproof paint!”
And so people painted
The roofs and the walls
Or the houses and stables
And castles and malls
Until the Lord said
With the smallest of sneezes,
“Cease painting at once
“For it causes diseases.”
The paint, it so happened
Did cause minor distress
To persons named Remington,
Fleischmann, and Hess.
Those with such names
Of course caused quite a fuss
While the rest of the town
Wondered, “What about us?
“The dragon is coming!
“How will we survive?
“Sure, a few will be sickened
“But we’ll be alive!”
The mayor just laughed
And he said with a tsk…
“What’s a few teeth and fire
“When our health is at risk?”
And, for some reason, this
Made the citizens calm
And await coming dragons
With nary a qualm.
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Who Sang It Better?
I saw an advertisement
While mountain-climbing with my baby.
She asked, “Should we remove it?”
And I replied with, “Maybe.”
So up we climbed, so happy
And the snow made us reflective,
Until we turned around and looked
With our lenses-corrective
At what we later learned
Was a mass of falling soil
Which depressed me, for I knew my life
Was little more than toil.
In hindsight, I took my love
And I took ad down,
Climbed a mountain
And turned around,
I saw my reflection in a snow covered hill
‘Til a landslide brought me down.
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Exercise in the Park
I asked, “Jerry, how do I
“Improve my upper body strength?”
He said, “A bench press
“Is a good place to start, Mark.”
I thought of his advice
And pondered it at length,
Then I grabbed my iron
And went to the city park.
I told the people and the pigeons
That they must depart,
Then I pressed into that bench
Until the steam had all but ceased.
I still have a weak torso
But Jerry said that it’s a start,
And even so I must admit
The bench looks better creased.
Filed under Poems
Happy Prime Day (Or My Sense Of Humor When I Stay Up Too Late)
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.
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This Poem Reflects Their Work Ethic
If you want the very best
Be a fan of the New York Jets.
That rhyme didn’t work quite right
And neither do they.
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Millennial Parenting Takes Another Small Step
If your name were Bedtime
And asked for a bedtime story
People might share anecdotes
Of you in all your glory.
Your children might get all confused
When it’s their rest-your-head time
And you ask them to ask you
“Tell me a story, Bedtime?”
Or say you want a lesson
In a subject like history
And you have to tell somebody
“Tell me, Bedtime, a story.”
One thing no one asks though
Is why Bedtime isn’t sad
When he tells the story of the time
He killed his mom and dad…
Filed under Poems
It Could Always Be Worse…
My mom was a pterodactyl
And my dad was an asparagus;
This is not true at all,
But maybe your life now seems less a mess?
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 