I is for my mother.
C is for my dad.
A is for my feelings.
N is for an impaler, namely Vlad.
T is for seismology.
S is for uninspired.
PEL is for impatience.
L is for “Am I Fired?”
Tag Archives: Stupid
TMI?
I wanted to let you know
I wrote this poem on the toilet.
I thought it best to keep it brief
In case that secret did spoil it.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
The Cards Started Strong
Some of my friends are Hearts,
Full of love and kind and soft.
Other friends are Diamonds,
All rich and perfectly coiffed.
Some of my friends are Clubs
‘Cause they’re blunt and like to drink.
But I don’t yet know any Spades
Or anything relevant that rhymes with drink.
Filed under Poems
21-Year-Old American Boy
I wish I had a plasma gun
Attached to the front of my car
‘Cause everyone would say “he’s here”
Whenever I drive to the bar.
Filed under Poems
As For Me… I Was A Goldfish
Benny was a hamster,
An upper-middle class rat.
He lived seven years
In a house with a cat.
He suffered anxiety
Throughout his meager years.
Then he was eaten and came back
As a worker at Sears.
This tale is bland
At face-value only.
It’s a tale of courage
Despite being lonely.
I urge you, have compassion
For all that you meet
For in a previous life
They may have been meat.
Filed under Poems
Vulcans Makes Sh*tty Poets
When I see your smiling face,
Your shining eyes and feline grace
I almost feel something at all
But then I don’t. So there.
Filed under Poems
Vulcans Makes Sh*tty Poets
When I see your smiling face,
Your shining eyes and feline grace
I almost feel somethig at all
But then I don’t. So there.
Filed under Poems
It’s All Aroun’, Bringin’ Us Down
What comes up
Must come down.
What goes sideways, as it turns out
Also must come down.
What doesn’t move at all
Never will go up.
It is for these reasons
That gravity makes a crappy topic
For poetry.
Filed under Poems
Missing My Step, Son
I’m just walking,
Nothing special going on,
When I realize suddenly
That you’re absent, gone.
My sudden epiphany
Hits me right in the spine,
So I said “watch out for the drop”
To the next guy in line.
Filed under Poems
Twelve Unborn Chickens Died To Bring You This Poem
When I throw eggs out the window
While on the motorway
Some jerks honk and curse at me.
That’s what I learned today.
Now if I hit you with an egg
You can honk if you want to
But I don’t mind ’cause either way
In the end the yolk’s on you.
The Daily Travesty 