If I could name a river after myself
I think I’d call it “David River”
‘Cause that’s a limitation
Of the whole “name-it-after-yourself” deal.
If I could name a city after myself
I can probably guess your IQ
By what you thought the answer would be.
It would be New David River City
Because duh.
Filed under Poems
Sometimes all it takes
To make somebody’s day
Is to flash a cheerful smile
And whisper “Hip hip hooray!”
I tried it out this afternoon
And the data that I got was this:
Prison is not a good place to test
A cheerfulness hypothesis.
Filed under Poems
Today it is early.
Last night it was late.
Does my lack of a poem
Mean I had a good date?
Filed under Poems
Perhaps if people possessing purple percherons
Prepared their persons patiently
Purple percherons put in purses
Would prudently pursue purer pursuits?
Filed under Poems
Dark shadows in the black night
As four-legged quadrupeds scurry,
Moving left and right in both directions
Quickly, as if in a hurry.
The leaves from the plants crinkle noisily
With the sound of an audible pop:
This eternal song goes on forever
And probably will never stop.
Filed under Poems
As you read this poem
You may look upon your clock
And see either the morning’s tic
Or else the evening’s tock.
I have advice to share with you
Be it the eve or morning;
First for my evening readers, I
Do share this somber warning:
For those whose work and leisure lasts
‘Til late at night like me
You run the risk of starting a blog
Of petty poetry.
But for the morning readers
Perhaps you’ll ponder thus:
How have you time to read crap
Writ by evening folk like us?
Filed under Poems
They say Jesus turned water into wine
But there’s an alternative guess I see:
I think Jesus was the inventor of Kool-Aid
But hadn’t perfected the recipe.
Filed under Poems
I have to go to bed soon
And wake up before quarter-to-noon
And then drive my car
And not get a gold star
And I can’t even watch a cartoon!
Filed under Poems
As she slid the dollar bill
Between my boxers and my abs
I came to the conclusion
Grandma shouldn’t have opened a tab.
Blow ye trumpet!
Blow yer horn
From sunset ‘til
Tomorrow morn’.
Bugle brightly
As if in labor
For I’m out of town
And I hate my neighbors!
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 