Some days I write a poem
That’s actually very good,
The day after which I struggle
To write something equally good
But then I rhyme a word with itself
And it goes off the rails from there
And I realize no matter what I do
It’s not going to be as good
So I relax and quit trying.
Filed under Poems
A few minutes ago
It was ten o’clock
And I yawned as I started for bed.
Now five minute later
It’s midnight
And awakeness is filling my head.
You may think I’m lying,
That physical science
Will prove that this poem’s untrue
But I beg to differ.
It’s a sterling example
Of what late-night Youtube binging can do.
Filed under Poems
I’ve been awake
For fourty hours now.
Almost got murdered
By a stray dog tonight.
I’m whiter than mayo
Or milk from a cow
But they released #PokemonGo
So I guess I’m alright.
Filed under Poems
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
I spent all evening in a hot tub
Until 11:15 tonight.
I’m writing this poem while wrinkly
Which, in my book, makes it alright.
Filed under Poems
Only on Windows
Does “100% complete”
Mean “Go get a donut,
Go see that movie,
Go create world peace,
Then come back and see
‘18% complete.'”
#ThatMomentYouMustWritePoems
#ButWriteHashtagsInstead
#CauseItsThreeOClockOnSaturday
#AndYou’reStillHappilyInBed
Filed under Poems
It’s the little things in history
That changed the world we know,
Like how we’d all be drinking taxed tea
If it weren’t for that Washington schmo.
What if Egypt hadn’t come along
And stolen Moses’s guys,
Or if medieval barbarians
Had toilet paper (just two plies).
Would the dark ages have ended
If the Visigoths used their head
And gained a tactical advantage
By bein invisi-goths instead?
And what if all this happened
And then Superman got drunk
And flew around the world so fast
That suddenly history stunk?
How would history be different
If this poet were never born?
You’d be stuck with Robert Frost,
Or else be watching porn.
Thus endeth my ideas,
Written down via Roman letters.
But think of how, if things had changed,
This poem would be betters.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
I’m asked to finish up a phrase
In this black-boxed party craze,
But I find it’s rather hard to do.
For these cards here in my hand:
In other games, they would be banned
And I don’t know what half of them are. Do you?
Filed under Poems
It was a heavy wait,
A pregnant pause,
As I thought of what to say.
From the force of the blow
I knew I was wrong,
But her butt did look fat in a way.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 