A Short Poem About A Short People - The Jawas!

If I lived on a desert world, I would want to be a Jawa.
And drive around the barren land in a bad ass Sand Crawla.

I'd hunt for treasure amongst crashed ships & remains of asteroids.
I'd earn my living on the side by selling stolen droids.

Jawas care not for man's laws, I like their society.
But mostly I just want an excuse to point and yell: "Utinni!"

p.s. Jawas rock!

A Serious Poem About Why I Don't Like October.

This poem has nothing to do with Star Wars or an 80s TV show.  But it does involve a hot chick...that I almost married!


For most folks October is great, a time for horror and fun.
But not for me, I surely dread that early setting sun.

This month reminds me of the time I had a special love.
But time revealed she was not sent from Heaven up above.

I came to learn that she was only nice on the outside.
Inside she was mean as sin, and she took me for a ride.

Our drive down love's highway ended in a crash.
For her heart wrote checks that her nature couldn't cash.

Our relationship was tumultuous, it's hard to explain it.
It was kind of like a cross between The Graduate and Blue Velvet.

I spent time in a haze of passion, a blizzard of sex snow.
And I met scary people that I didn't want to know.

It felt like an eternity, but it didn't last that long.
And there was no artful direction, or kick ass Simon & Garfunkel songs.

I couldn't think straight around her, distracted 'cause she was so pretty.
And I constantly forgave her, even though she treated me shitty.

We became as good as married in our minds, but married in the mind's no good.
I ripped that last part off from a Weezer song - just wanted that understood.

We first met in October, and this cannot be forgotten.
And I still remember the fun we had, even though it all turned rotten.

People can't seem to understand why I feel so haunted.
If you've ever loved then you should know - it's a powerful thing to be wanted.

So this month feels extra cold to me, and I don't feel too groovy.
I have to distract myself with poetry and horror movies.

But what disturbs me the most and sometimes frays my sanity.

Is that she was the only girl I ever loved - so what does that say about me?

p.s. That last part was too melodramatic but it sounded good so I went for it!

Wooooo! A Natural Poem About The Nature Boy - Ric Flair!

Wooooo! A Natural Poem About The Nature Boy - Ric Flair!

 

The Nature Boy - WOOOOOOOOO! - Ric Flair!
Stylin' and Profilin' with platinum hair!

Will he ever retire - nobody knows.
When he gets pissed he yells & takes off his clothes.

He's still takin' ladies atop space mountain.
When he gets busted open he still bleeds a fountain.

He's earned the right to strut and gloat.
He had many a great match with Ricky Steamboat.

He's got tons of money and he's still makin loads.
It was also awesome when he fought Dusty Rhodes.

If you don't like The Nature Boy - you can shove it.
He's the greatest of all time - "Learn...ta love it!"

p.s. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

A Wonderful Poem About A Wonderful Wookie - Chewbacca!

I want Chewbacca to ride with me, and be my co-pilot.
We both hate The Empire, so we'll team-up to fight it.

When Stormtroopers attack us, Chewie will snap their necks.
Then we'll make the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs.

We'll hide out in asteroid fields, even though they can get bumpy.
And I'll ask Chewbacca why he named his son Lumpy.

I'll modify the navi-computer to make the ship go faster.
While Chewie hunts the Mynocks, with his great Bowcaster.

If Chewie gets cranky, I'll make some space cookies.
Heed the words of Han Solo: don't upset a Wookie.

We'll send the ship into hyperspace, and then we'll travel far.
Me and my best friend - a giant dog-man from the stars.

p.s. Chewbacca does have a son named Lumpy.  Seriously.

A Metal Thrashing Mad Poem About How Scott Ian Ruined Anthrax.

Even if you have no interest in metal or Anthrax, I encourage you to read this poem because it tells a complete story that is based on TRUE events.  I am very proud of it.

Also, I saw the John Bush version of Anthrax live on two occasions with my buddy Matt.  So this one goes out to him!

Scott Ian, you turd, what have ye done?
Not long ago,you were metal's favorite son.
Now it's up to me,to relate a sad story.
Of how he ruined Anthrax in a desperate bid for glory.

He had dreams of the 80s, when he was young & rich.

So he appealed to Sharon Osbourne, that money grubbing bitch.
She said she'd put Anthrax on The Ozzfest, but on one condition.
The original 'Thrax must hit the stage, they'd sell it as a reunion.

They'd have to get back together with Joey Belladonna.
If Scott had balls he would have said, "No, I'm not gonna!"

Instead he drove that great singer, John Bush, from the band.

And with this shitty act, he betrayed the hardcore fans.

Let me say right now, John Bush w/Anthrax was excellent.
If you don't like those albums, you can go get bent.

So they got Joey back, and thought they'd passed the test.

And then that ho-bag Sharon didn't put them on Ozzfest.

Scott's efforts were for naught, it's sad but also funny.
The band still toured with Belladonna, and made a little bit of money.

But it didn't last long, Joey Belladonna just ain't cool.
So then they found this other guy, and he was a total tool.

His vocals ripped off John Bush, his name I can't remember.

He got kicked out of the band for SHITTING on another memeber.

John Bush won't come back, he's had a better fate.
He rejoined his previous band, the great Armored Saint.
But Anthrax is now shattered, in a constant state of flux.
And it's all Scott Ian's fault, I think he totally sucks.

p.s. I am not making this up - the rip off John Bush took a dump on Frank Bello while he was asleep on their tour bus.  He thought it would be funny.  He was wrong.

p.p.s.  As of this writing, Joey Belladonna is back in the band.  The horror...the horror....

A Bionic Poem About How I Want To Be Like My Hero - The Six Million Dollar Man

If I were in a horrific plane crash, like Colonel Steve Austin
Then maybe I could get bionic parts, I think that would be awesome.

I'd have robotic legs and eyes and ears and arms.
Then I could be a hero, and keep the world from harm.

I could survive gunshots, and other powerful blasts.
I when I really needed to, I could run really fast.

If I came across a wall, I could jump really high.
And I could lift real heavy shit and toss it into the sky.

No harm would come to America, not on my watch.
And one of my best friends would be a robotic Sasquatch.

Bad guy would always lose, they'd never see me comin.'
Another special bonus: I'd get to date The Bionic Woman.

p.s. In reality I would die horribly if I were in an experimental plane crash.  But a boy can dream, can't he?

A Transformational Poem About Transformers! With A Stunning Realization At The End!

I like Transfomers because they kick ass.
I like it whenever giant robots clash.

I like it when they become cars or guns.
I wish I could transform, that would be fun.

If I were a robot, I would fight crime.
I would follow the teachings of Optimus Prime.

Or maybe I would be more like Starscream.
And lust for power, and have evil dreams.

I also really like Galvatron
I'd disintegrate my enemies, they would be gone.

It would also be rad to be Hot Rod.
I'd open The Matrix to defeat evil gods.

Wait, I HAVE transformed, I didn't even know it.
For I have become a Kick Ass Poet.

p.s. That last part was cheesy, but I don't care!

A Ghostly Poem About That Babe On Ghost Hunters - Kris Williams

I would like to be ghost hunted, by Ms. Kris Williams.

If I were a phantom, I would totally try to feel them.


When she's on a case, she always wears tight shirts.

This makes my pants tight, and something starts to hurt.


She is totally hot, a perfect beauty vision.

I would run around with her, hunting apparitions.


We could visit haunted houses, and stay out all night.

Just to be near her, I would risk a deathly fright.


I think she is a total package, she really has the most.

I definitely want to haunt her, as a man...or as a ghost!

p.s.  The other chick on that show is also cute.

Knight Rider - A Shadowy Poem About A Man Who Doesn't Exist...And How I Want To Be Like Him.

I want to be like Michael Knight, and have a talking car.

If I had a supercharged crime figthing machine, I bet I could get far.


We'd go on secret missions, and help all those in need.

And we wouldn't charge any money, for heroes have no greed.


We'd outrace all the bad guys, and smash any racket.

I'd grow a permy white-man fro, and wear a leather jacket.


All my friends would clap and cheer and yell: "You're on a roll, man!"

Especially after I rescued the Special Guest Star: Gary Coleman.


All the chicks would come to see us, when we drove into town.

Cause a dude who has a talking car is the baddest dude around.


And once the threat was over, and we had won fight.

KITT and I would disappear and ride...into the night.

P.S.  There was an episode of Diff'rent Strokes where Arnold got rescued by Knight Rider.  I'm not making this up, I swear!

Ladies, Anatomically Correct Male Sex Dolls Are NOT The Answer!

This is based on a real-life incident.  That I saw on TV.

Flipping through the channels one night, I saw something that made me sick
A group of really hot babes sucking on a synthetic dipstick

They thought it was totally awesome, that a fake man was really rad
Me, all I saw was failure, and lives destined to be sad.

A big rubber man might satisfy you, and fulfill your lusty needs
But he can never hold your hand, or perform any manly deeds.

He can't hold you in his arms, and listen to your problems
He can't declare his love for you, and do his best to solve them.

Perhaps I shouldn't be too harsh, this is a cold, cruel world
A sex doll man might be the answer, for many lonely girls.

I wish that I could fix this, and call them on the phone.
Cause no good woman should despair or ever be alone.

p.s. Unless you're one of those psycho chicks who think men suck and shouldn't talk or have emotion.  Then I think you should stick with the sex doll, I have no use for you.

A Milftastic Poem About Ms. Lauren Graham

I consider Lauren Graham to be the Milfiest Milf on the planet, even though she doesn't have any kids.  At least not yet.  After she reads my poem, things might change....

Lauren Graham, Lauren Graham
Won't you let me be your man?
We could laugh and dance and have a real good time.

Lauren Graham, Lauren Graham
I want you to understand
I would treat you like a queen if you were mine.

I know we live in different stages
I don't care about our different ages
I got good lovin' and I want to use it.

I know you're really over thirty
And I still think you're really purty
The older the violin, then sweeter is the music.

Both of us are really funny
If we teamed up it would equal money
If we were an auction, we'd get a billion bids.

We could have a lot of fun
I think you are MILF #1
Even though you don't have any kids.

P.S. That last part would change after we hook up.

A Powerful Poem About A Powerful Jedi - Yoda!

My greatest wish in the world,
when I was only three

Was for Yoda to leave Dagobah,
and come and live with me.

We could hide in my Grandpa's woods
and stay in there for hours.

Yoda could lift me in the air
by using Jedi powers.

We'd play with Star Wars figures
and stay up all night.

I could make Yoda happy
by giving him a flashlight.

And then when I got older,
he would be my source

For information and guidance
on the ways of The Force.

But then RETURN came out,
and I saw that Yoda died.

My little heart was broken
and I cried and cried and cried.

My dad said it's just make believe
and better, I did feel.

But to this day, deep in my heart,

I still think Yoda's real.