Tag Archives: True Story

Big Girls Are Settling Now

I read an inspiring article

About how blue whales reproduce.

Apparently, they interbreed with fin whales

Who are not as large or recluse.

The fact that these largest of animals

Might bring their endangerment to an end

Gives me hope. It should give you hope too

That a blue whale might be your girlfriend.

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Living In The Moment

Plaid shirt, khaki pants

On the toilet, 10 P.M.

Creativity

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Crap… The Robots Are Competent Now!

True story: I was curious about how ChatGPT accesses websites or uploaded information to imitate the style of a particular writer. Thinking myself as an unknown, I did an experiment, asking it to “Write a poem in the style of a post from thedailytravesty.com”.

To my delight and horror, it actually nailed it!

Here’s what it gave me:

In a world of whimsy and satire,

Where absurdity sets hearts on fire.

TheDailyTravesty, a realm so wild,

Where laughter reigns, a mischievous child.

A headline screams in bold font,

“Potato UFOs invade Vermont!”

With spuds in spacesuits, a cosmic twist,

Satirical tales, impossible to resist.

Politicians dance in a jester’s jig

As pundits ponder, their brains do dig.

A carnival of words, a linguistic spree,

TheDailyTravesty, where all is free.

Unicorns debate economic strife,

While Bigfoot hosts a talk show rife.

Conspiracies thrive in comic glee,

A kaleidoscope of absurdity.

Aliens pen op-eds on earthly trends,

Sasquatch critiques the latest fashion blends.

Oh, the whimsical world of satire’s delight,

Where reality takes an ironic flight.

So, visit the site, let laughter soar,

TheDailyTravesty, forevermore.

In a realm of humor, where jesters play,

A post-a-day keeps the gloom away.

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I Actually Don’t Know… I Just Write Too Many Eight Line Poems

We played D&D

For nine hours today

So my brain is quite fried

And I hope it’s okay

That this poem is brief,

Just seven lines long.

“Why not eight?” you ask?

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“Daily” Travesty… That Was A Joke

I am in a cabin

Eating French fries with my wife.

Poetry is great and all

But then again so is my life.

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My Stocking Is Stuffed And My Belly Is Too

Today it was Christmas

And Christmas was done.

This poem is only smaller

Than my desire to go for a run.

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For My Beloved Wife On The Occasion Of Her Illness

My girl is sick. She has the ick.

It makes her feel bad.

But she is lucky, ‘cause even when yucky

She’s married to me, her lad.

I make her soup that makes her poop

So all the germs come out,

And then she goes and blows her nose

And snot comes out her snout!

Now free of dreck, my darling Beck

May lay upon our couch.

I am her boulder, her comforting shoulder

For whenever she feels an ouch.

Soon will be when her and me

Go off to bed to sleep

And since she coughed I talk so soft

And help her count the sheep.

And when she wakes, the sound she makes

Is more thunder than snore

But through the night her gut got right;

She’s better than before.

So we repeat until her feet

Are under her anew.

My medical care is extraordinaire

Or so I think. Do you?

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Seriously Seattle?

There once was a Seattle bird team

Who fought a sports battle upstream.

Alas, the sheep rallied

While the birds dilly-dallied

And now they’re an NFL meme.

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Pussy On The Web?

True story: I work remotely

And at my meeting today

My cat jumped up onto my lap

And looked at me, then lay

Belly-up and legs upwards

To show the world his… that

So anyway, I texted my wife

To tell her about our porno cat.

But after a good laugh

At kitty’s lack of inhibition

I said something I shouldn’t have

While Alexa sat to listen:

I made a joke about “kitty porn”

But pronounced the T’s as “D”.

Please know that’s why I disappeared

If big brother comes for me.

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Now THAT Is A Great Value

This ten minute break

Isn’t long enough to write

More than a Haiku.

But I’m not an ass!

I’ll reward you with not one

Haiku, but with two!

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