She said “My name is Margaret.”
He said “My name is Jake,
“And may I say, dear sister,
“You smell different when you’re awake.”
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Tag Archives: Weird
When The Light Goes Out Things Get Dark
There is one green light bulb
From an old Christmas tree
In the upper-left-hand plastic ring
Of the thingy that holds together
A six-pack of generic-brand cola,
Reclining in an Ohio landfill,
Never again to be lit
Or decorate a house
Or hold public office,
But the bulb is happy
Because it will outlast the family
Who chucked it in a hefty bag
And forgot all about it.
The bulb remembers.
The bulb is patient.
The bulb is all out of mercy…
Filed under Poems
Bad Romance
I love you
Like Japan loves tentacles,
Like psychos love murder
And goth teens love pentacles.
I love you
Like Chris Pratt loves his raptors
And people with Stockholm
Syndrome love their captors.
I love you
Like a farmer loves cattle,
Like that one guy you know
Loves leather and a paddle.
I love you
Like Tarantino loves gore
And it’s for these reasons
I can’t see you no more.
Filed under Poems
If “The Red Wheelbarrow” Is Good, Why Isn’t This?
Her love made me warm and fuzzy
Like a bit of french cheese
Left in a sauna over the weekend
But, alas, she had fleas.
Filed under Poems
Especially If Her Name Is Daisy
My favorite flowers are daisies.
My favorite black president is Obama.
My favorite meal and my favorite animal
Both are the same: They’re yo’ mama.
Filed under Poems
You Didn’t Eat Your Broccoli, Thus…
Satan wants to eat your soul for breakfast.
Yeah, that’s a thing that Satan wants to do.
His mouth’s already watering
At the prospect of slaughtering
That tasty human spirit that is you!
Satan wants to eat your soul for breakfast.
I heard him to his Mrs. Satan say
“Hey, why don’t you and me go
“Have some eggs and Human Ego
“As a nutritious snack to start the day!”
Satan has a hunch
That it’s too soon for lunch
And, by that logic, also too soon for dinner.
But they don’t sleep-in in Hell
And to start his day off well
You are the perfect portion size of sinner!
(Everybody)!
Satan wants to eat your soul for breakfast.
He wants to fill his belly with your Id.
I hope you’ve read your Dante
‘Cause you’re what Satan wants. Hey!
That’s what you get for being a naughty kid!
When You Should Have Stopped After The First Weird Limerick
If you grew a six-foot long beard
You’d probably think it was weird
But after a while
You’d probably smile
And think “This ain’t as bad as I feared.”
And if a six-foot beard grew you
It would not know what to do
Because shaving’s a pain
And beards don’t have a brain.
These dilemmas are why I’m not a jew.
Filed under Poems
