Category Archives: Bad Poetry

It’s Wet Outside, Isn’t It?

the rain looks like ocean spray
a spit-take of foamy waves
the way, you know, like in a comedy, someone drinks right before a joke and then they spit out the drink while trying to hold it in
and it makes it look rain
like this rain
sorta looks like the ocean
as I said
finding its way on shore
through the sky, like clouds
like clouds do
the way, you know, like clouds do, you know, when the water vapor gets into the atmosphere through a process called evaporation; then the water vapor rises in the atmosphere; and there it cools down and forms tiny water droplets through something called condensation
like that
you know
like rain
this rain
which, as we’ve established, looks like
and possible at one point was
the ocean
doing a spit take in your face

Where Protection

god, there is no
turns out, funny, really
turns out there is no big
peanut allergy thing
ha, wow,
we just created it ourselves
partly to be good parents
to be good people
to protect our children
o, and, when there is a possible peanut problem the solution is
oddly enough
most often to
feed your kid peanuts
(of course, there are exceptions, i’m no doctor, as they say)
oxymoronic, no?
moronic, no?
like good parents following the divine wisdom of jenny macarthy
(you’re no doctor, as they say)
or otherwise good people who are mormons
a belief in something completely made up
by a sexual predator conman
(fact, as they say: joseph smith was a sexual predator: end fact)
(fact, as they say: joseph smith was a conman: end fact)
(fact, as they say: joseph smith started the morman church: end fact)
o but bless his heart
god bless his heart
just keep your daughters far away from that danger
god willing
and so it is

avocado green

I just ate
a green avocado
deep yellow-green
yellow turning into green
or more like green turning into
pulling and fading from one extreme to the other
into deep chestnut brown
with the type of gradation that only a photoshop pro would envy
envy until she was green
like the avocado
I just ate

Shoulder Burden

God my shoulder hurts
Goddamn my shoulder hurts
What was I thinking
What was I doing
I don’t even drink
But I fell down like a drunk
Ah, what the fuck
Shit, shit, shit
My shoulder hurts

Yeah, yeah, yeah
My shoulder still fucking hurts
It’s only been 12 seconds since you asked
Why do you ask
Why do you ask
Does your shoulder hurt?
Seems ridiculous
Seems ridiculous to ask what you just asked
Fucking ridiculous

I’m in pain, and I’m sorry
I’m hungry, too
I know you were just asking how I felt
I know you were just asking out of concern
I know you were just asking about my shoulder
Well it’s only been 35 seconds since the last time you asked, and yes, yes, yes my shoulder still fucking hurts

Bluebird, Bluebird

Look at the pretty bluebird, bluebird
Sitting on my shoulder
Listen to her singing, her singing
Could not be any bolder

But just before taking-off, taking-off
No longer to be heard
She leaves a sloppy-dropping, dropping
Off a runny turd

And so I go to wipe it, wipe it
Clear from my clean shirt
But as I swipe my hand, my hand
Smears and spreads bird-dirt

On the house next door, next door, next door,
Next door there is a spigot
Which should provide a wash, a wash
With water – that’s the ticket

Summer’s sun had been heating, heating
Water in the hose
Soon my face was bleeding, bleeding
From burns upon my nose

That’s how I scared my face, my face
Which had been rather pretty
Before one delicate bluebird, bluebird
Who just happened to be shitty

Comedian’s Breakup Breakdown

I can’t
I can’t just stand here
And yet I’m standing right here
I’m standing up
Against a black brick wall
You look right at me
Like I’m not here
Like I’m not even there
Like all you see is a black brick wall

Oh I see
You’re on a date
At my show you’re on a date
The guy beside you is your date
You turn back to him and laugh at something he said
Even though it wasn’t funny
It’s not funny
I can tell
I can’t tell
I can tell
I know your laugh
I know your laughs
All of them

For the past 10 years I made you laugh
And now I’m going onstage
To make everyone laugh
And I can’t think of a joke
I can’t think of a joke
I have a million fucking jokes
And I can’t think of a joke
Something has reached into my joke chest
And ripped them out
By the heart

You’re on a date
I want you to be happy
I want you to laugh
For real
I can’t think of a joke
I can’t think
I can’t

On cue the lights change
On cue I walk on stage

I’m so skinny
I’m so fucking skinny up here
Why do I feel fat

If you can think of a joke please tell me
Please tell me a joke
Please tell me a joke right now
I can’t think of a joke
I can’t think
I can’t

I look into the familiar faceless crowd
I focus on an unfamiliar faceless face
I open my mouth
I don’t know what I say
I just
I just
I just can’t

There’s a little laughter
I say something that I can’t remember now
There’s more laughter
There’s more
There’s so much
There’s just so much
I can no longer hear that artificial laugh
I can no longer hear, I think
I can no longer stand, I think
I can no longer think, I think
I can

Man in the Moon

The moon is hidden by the fog
Behind the trees
Behind the building
Behind the city
Behind the man
Who stands behind the city and the building and the trees and the fog
The man behind the fog

What is that man doing there
What the hell is he doing there
Why is he looking for the moon
Who is he
Who is he to the moon

Let the moon go
Let the fog go
Let the trees go
Let the buildings go
Let the city go
Be the man
Be the moon
Be the man and the moon
And the man

Bus Top

I was thrown
Under the bus which is strange
I’m the bus driver

I should say
I was the bus driver
The thing is
I am still the bus driver
I am just under the bus

But here I sit
Or lay
Or lie
Still the bus driver
Am I still the bus driver
Thrown under the bus

It’s still my bus
I’m still the driver
Even though it’s crushing me
Even though without me there’s no driver
Even though without a driver it’s crushing me
Even though I’m still the driver

But let me repeat I’m still the driver
But let me repeat I’m still the driver
But let me repeat I’m still the driver
Even though it’s crushing me
Even though I’m under the bus
Thrown under the bus
I’m still the bus driver

Two Wifes (sic)

I have two wifes
So deal with that
Deal. With. It.
A secret life in Northern California
Or Utah
Or Nebraska, or Minneapolis, or Dover
Delaware Central Women’s Penitentiary
Doesn’t really matter, does it?

I have two wifes
Think I’m fucking crazy?
Think I’m fucking crazy?
I’ll show you
I’ll show you who’s fucking crazy

I’ve already told you
Or have I told you?
I’ve already told you a thousand times
I have two wifes, after all
It’s America, after all
Land of the free and whatnot

And I’m not lyin’
I’m not even lyin’ to no one
No. One.
Except my second wife
And, oh yeah, my first wife, too

Because, I have two wifes
And, I have a secret
A secret secret
A secret secret secret secret

They’re twins

Now that’s funny
Now that – for the love of all that’s holy – that’s just freakin’ hilarious

Strange Bedfellows

Get out; get out
Get out of my bed
Move over; move over
Get off of my head

You bore, you snore
You’re making me sad
You smell; you stink
You’re driving me mad

All legs; all arms
All over the place
Get out before
I’m punching your face

The blanket – don’t yank it
So cold when you steal
The covers; you’d shudder
To know how I feel

You’re gone; relax
I have the whole bed
I should be happy
I’m lonely instead