Someone in Hollywood decided
“What if instead of crappy flicks
“We badly remade everything people love
“And when they complain, say that they’re dicks?”
Everyone outside Hollywood
Disliked this judgement call,
But on the bright side, now people
See that books aren’t that bad after all.
Filed under Poems
Whenever a poem begins with “tonight”
You pretty much know it’s no good
So this morning I’m writing early
Because I figure I should.
The problem is autobiographical poems
Are also universally mediocre
So maybe instead of being a poet
I should take up professional poker?
Filed under Poems
There once was a poet I knew
Who wrote poems at 11:52.
Tonight he was inspired
To write before he got tired
But, alas, tonight’s poem sucks too…
Filed under Poems
Tonight I have no topics
To write a poem about…
But will that stop me? Never!
I’m shocked you’d ever doubt!
No force of man or nature
Can stop me writing junk.
As big tech corporations say:
“It’s a feature, not a funk.”
In fact, when I’m inspired
I might settle for one stanza
About something that sounds funny
Like Swaziland or Lufthansa.
But today, despite my lack
Of anything resembling a point
I wrote a lengthy poem
And if you don’t like it, suck my groint.
Filed under Poems
This one takes sone explanation.
‘Twas late and I lacked imagination
So I asked “what to write? The words just won’t come!
My parents said “Karma or Fritos.”
Now you know where I get it from.
Filed under Poems
The world is really beautiful
But doesn’t have enough
Cheese-based lukewarm beverages
(And generally lukewarm-cheese stuff).
Filed under Poems
‘Twas the night before Christmas
And things were amiss.
A poet was blocked up
And so he wrote this.
But you’ve all got presents
And family and junk,
So I hope you’ll forgive me
This holiday funk.
And if you lack junk,
Family, and gifts,
Let’s hope that next year
Your luck favorably shifts.
Filed under Poems
I watched a football game today,
Played a concert with my friends,
And changed the oil in my truck,
And with that this poem ends.
Filed under Poems
Some days before going to bed
A little voice speaks in your head:
“Write something funny
“Without sex, dogs, or money,”
And so you write limericks instead.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 