Comedy Poems

Bipolar 2

I'm secretly 
a genius, trouble 
is, I'm the only 
one who knows 
about it. 

I'm much too 
shy to show it, 
and I'm much 
too mad to keep 
it constant. 

I'm either busy 
laying in my bed, 
missing out. 

Or overworking 
myself to the point 
of exhaustion. 

There's no 
in-between. 

And that, 
my friends, 
is

Ode To The Bin That Betrayed Me

In moonlight's hush, beneath the elm,  
A masked marauder stalks his realm.  
With paws like whispers, eyes like coal,  
He seeks the prize that fills his soul.

But lo! The bin—his ancient foe—  
Stands smug, unyielding, sealed in woe.  
Its lid, a tyrant, cold and tight,  
Dares mock his hunger

Street Life Pitbull Thug

(Intro)  
Yo, I got scars on my knuckles and dreams in a duffle,  
Life gave me lemons, I sold 'em in a hustle.  
Mandy said “swing by,” I said “bet,” no delay—  
But what happened next? Man, lemme just say...

---

Verse 1
Mandy told me to stop by, I pulled up in Crocs,

In Praise of Comedy

The art of comedy's a sacred thing,
as fresh and precious in its gift of bliss
as when a worshipped one's initial kiss
transports us first. Like Fragonard, we swing
to Lena Horne's delightful rites of spring
on wings of wonder. No analysis 
can pull apart a pleasure pure as this. 
We humans laugh as nightingales might sing.
We're taught to

Shredding In The Ghetto

Intro
Out past the corner store, where the ice cream truck fears to roll,
Lies a block with more rhythm than a washing machine on spin cycle,
Where the cats wear sunglasses at midnight,
And every pothole’s got a story to tell.
Tonight, I tune my axe—rusty strings, missing a knob,
Ready to melt faces in the moonlit back alley,
Like a

The Missing Ouija Board

The Missing Ouija Board  
An Unholy Whodunnit in Verse  

I summoned ghosts at midnight’s glare,  
At Cemetery Gate—with snacks to spare.  
We were just spelling “B-U-R-I-E-D” when—Zap!  
The Ouija Board vanished... like a ghost on a gap.

Who stole my Ouija Board from cemetery?!  
Was it the undead... or Karen

Spooked Mr Johnson

Old Mr. Johnson, with broom in one hand,  
Told his sweet granddaughter, “Sleep, not grandstand!”  
Her room was empty, the air grew cold—  
Only the Ouija sat silent and bold.

He muttered and shivered, “No time to wait,”  
Grabbed his truck keys and zipped past the gate.  
The cemetery whispered secrets

HAHA I'M MANIC

All that 
remains 
of our 
love
is a faded Polaroid,
a carton of cigarettes,
and two cases of beer.
I'll forget you soon,
but for now,
I'm cracking open 
another one—
let's hope these 
memories 
blur!

Penitentiary Clowns

The warden's dog steals every snack,  
The inmates plot to get them back.  
A daring heist for honey buns,  
'Til Fluffy wins, and off he runs!  

The gym’s a war of flexing might,  
Larry claims he’s built for flight.  
He jumps, he flaps, he hits the ground,  
The

Mi Vida Loca

I wake up swinging, fists in the air,  
Wrestling my dreams like they just don’t care.  
Life’s a rodeo, I hold on tight,  
Riding chaos like a bull in flight.  

---

The ghetto’s my kingdom, the concrete's my throne,  
Dodging pigeons like they're throwing stones.  
Sirens sing me lullabies at

Corner - I love you, mother

Mother: a wax crayon candle in a starless room
You have many layers, like an onion
And you're coloured, but not green
So a wax-crayon candle is favoured here.
Much more poetic.

Although I bathe in the dark
You sit in my corner
Flickering                  

Legendary Convict

Walked in through those gates, the legends foretold/
valley of death? Try a circus of old/
The baddest dude charged, Timber! Came the call/
He fell like a Jenga tower, five stories tall/
A gang rolled up, thinking strength in their mix/
Twenty-five sprawled out, my karate did the tricks/
One guy swung a mop, I said, nice try my dude/
Bruce

Djinn Martini

"Careful with the ethanol,"
Said a fume of whisper hush.
As a thundered bolt and fire ball,
Engorged the moment with a rush. 

The itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny, yellow polka-dot martini, 
Lit my bokeh mind and eyelids tender soft.
Astigmatism, couldn't see the genie,
Who puffed up in the rush and coughed. 

"Cover your mouth, you elemental,"
I sneered at the legless haunt,
Dental

King of Clowns

You laughed too hard in 1996/
Thought I'd trip and stay down for kicks/
But I climbed back up, twice the size/
Now I shred, watch the sparks fly/
My drummer joked, said guitars are lame/
Left him roadside, questioning fame/ 
Why does a guitar need a case, he asked/
To contain its stringed up past/
Steel strings bend, the pick obeys/
My

I Took Satan's Throne

I strolled into Hell like a VIP/
Satan said, "what's this nonsense I see"/
"Bro, I out evil you", I smirked with glee/
Then he rage-quit chess, forfeiting to me/

God gasped, his jaw hit the floor/
"I designed Satan, what is this lore"/
I shrugged, "he misplayed the Sicilian once more"/
"Then fell for a joke about the grocery store"/

He plotted

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