Dungeons and Dragons

A roll of the dice and a sip of the Dew
A Player’s Handbook and a DM’s Guide too
Bust out the chips and a ten-sided die
Get out some paper, get ready to write
Your character sheets whether elf or an eladrin
Make him a druid or bard or a paladin
Chaotic evil or lawfully good
Make sure he’s wearing a cloak with a hood
If he’s too modern, he just won’t fit in
With the rest of the party on this nerdy campaign
But if all of that just isn’t enough
If rolling dice is not up to snuff
Then break out the cloaks and the foam-covered swords
Maybe some miniatures and maybe a board
Put on some Rush and turn down the lights
And larp your heart out with all of your might
And if you are one who is just pretty sure
That the inherent and evil allure
Of this innocent game is that it’s absurd
It won’t make you evil, it will just make you a nerd

Poem News 8/8/2011

The debt deal is bogus and the market is crashing
GOP and the President hashing
All of this out, but the facts are right there
If we don’t rein this in, we’re in for a scare
Monday morning is most certainly bust
The market is too crazy for investors to trust
But come on, Wall Street, and just get a grip
America is not in the mood for this flip
And it’s not just the States, but Asia and Europe
The entire planet is trying to cope
But really everyone needs to chill
Starting spending your paychecks or it will all go downhill!

Turn Off Your Blinker

Your blinker is on and I wish that it wasn’t
Your blinker is on and obviously it doesn’t
Mean that you’re turning so why don’t you
Turn off your blinker

Your blinker is on and it has been for miles
Your blinker is on and it’s making me vile
All I can look at is that orange light
So please—turn off your blinker

Sometimes while I’m stuck on the freeway

Crawling in traffic while my life slips away
I’m tired, I’m grumpy, and I don’t want to be there
Surrounded by others who drive just to scare
But then you showed up and cut into line
You almost side swiped me too, you swine
And then just to make it all peachy
You turned on your blinker and since Exit 133
We have all suffered since you simply can’t see
That you need to turn off the damn blinker already

Sleeping Pills

Drugs drugs
Good for your sleep
The more you take
The more you eat
The more you sleep
The better you feel
So pop some drugs
With great zeal

Disclaimer: Caffeinated Couplets does not in any way endorse sleeping pills. The author of this blog wrote this poem in jest for a dear friend who could not stop eating everything in his entire kitchen under the influence of sleeping pills. Really, rather than popping drugs with great zeal, Caffeinated Couplets advises all those who do not sleep well to watch TV shows staring Kim Kardashian or Jersey Shore kids until desired sleep effects are achieved.

These Are a Few of my Least Favorite Things

Sitting in traffic or waiting in line
People who talk almost all the of the time
Men who are cocky or men who have flings
These are a few of my least favorite things

People who take up two parking places
Driving the freeway like chariot races
Stop cutting me off and turn on your blinker
You’re not a good driver; you’re just a big stinker

Listening to those who don’t know when to shush
Talking forever, turn my brain into mush
Totally missing all social cues
Holding all hostage until you are through

If you lean on a mirror for an act that is crass
Thinking it’s private and then picking your ass
And unknown to you, we can all totally see
All the details of how you pick your wedgie

Women who show off way too much boob
Bathrooms that reek too much of poo
Breath that smells like Doritos or Corn Nutz
Pants that don’t nearly cover up butts
Walking behind someone who just left a fart
Making a mess and calling it art
Jaywalkers who dart against traffic lights
Or cross wearing black in the middle of night
Crunching popcorn at the last Harry Potter
So I couldn’t hear major twists in the plot, or
People who steal shopping carts from the store
And leave them to roll and make dents in my door
Maybe I’m grouchy and maybe I’m mean
Maybe I should calm my thoughts on caffeine
But whether it’s wrong or whether it’s right
These things piss me off and they make me write

Drunk Dialed

Phone ringing while I’m out and about
I think there must be some tragedy
For in all these years of knowing you
You have never once called me

So I get home and rush through dinner
Making sure to call you back
You sound cheery, a bit too much
And then you start to yack

I ask you how you’re doing
You giggle like a child
You tell me all about Jell-o
And how it's just so wild

You talk about the economy
How you could solve it all
How if everyone had listened to you
There never would have been a fall

You tell me that you have a friend
His name is Mr. Grey Goose
And then I start to realize
That you’re drunk off your caboose

Then I know that I am stuck
Talking to your drunk ass
Because you never even stop to breathe
Much less give me room to sass

My mind wanders and I think
How can I get out of this?
How can I say I have to go
And not dent your drunken bliss?

I think about just hanging up
Just saying that my phone died
You probably won’t remember later
You’d totally let that slide

But then I catch a break
When you sound a little bit odd
And I know that you are
Bowing down to the porcelain god

So I’m sorry for your misfortune
And I didn’t mean to flee
I only feel a little bad
That your vomiting set me free

Haiku for a Bitch

You must kiss my ass
PMS incarnated
Your mood taints my calm

Turdburglar

Okay, I'd like to offer some context to this one so that my many, many readers won't think I am an all out potty brain. Years ago, I worked at a place that shall remain nameless. There were about 17 of us at this unnamed place and to this day I have no idea who the offender was--and I don't want to know. Someone in that building was a poo streak leaver. Now, I know about the whole everybody poops thing and all of that. I don't mean to be crude. But I just got a bit affected by the daily poo streaks and the fact that they always seemed to be waiting just for me so I wrote a little poem about it. This was indeed the first poem I wrote in this vein. My original intent was to perhaps woodburn this poem onto a quilted maple plaque in fancy, cursive script and hang it up in the bathroom, but I chickened out and squirreled the poem away and I think I only ever showed one other person this little gem...until now!

Turd Streak

I came into work early this morning
No one thought to give me warning
That I might walk in here and see
A turd streak left from you for me
I doubt you thought about that skid
Or knew it would have the effect it did
I don't mean to embarrass or poke fun
But want to request if you are the one
That you turn around each time you flush
If you leave a streak, please use the brush

Blogging is Hard

Okay, so in my mind, setting up a blog and having one million people reading it within the span of a week seemed totally plausible. Totally! Well, I suppose I knew that wasn't how it all worked, but I was hoping. If you have clicked into my sad little links on Facebook, thank you! I really super dooper appreciate your support and hope you will keep clicking in. If you haven't, well, you should. If anyone has tips on how to grow a blog, please leave comments or write me. I am very n00b at all of this.

I wanted to take a break (a break from my two poems so far) and tell my one reader a little something about myself. Currently, I am a stay-at-home editor and writer. What does that mean? It means I spend literally 99% of my day glued feverishly to my laptop. I don't sleep. I don't eat. I wake up, sit down at the laptop, and either start reading or writing. Every day. All day. And, yes, it is totally exciting.

Actually, sometimes it's not exciting, which is exactly why this blog was born. I have been craving a project, a little excitement, a little something-something to shake up my day. So, naturally, I started a blog because it is on my laptop and involves reading and writing. What else is there?

Ballad of Bin Laden

He rose from the desert

He lived in a cave

He wore a great turban

And knew not how to shave

He looked to America

Didn’t like what he saw

Thought he would fix

What he thought was a flaw

He plotted with bombs

And plotted with planes

He created great sorrow

In our ass, a great pain

O fallen terrorist, O fallen foe

All you’ve achieved with your evil manner

Is that all travelers

Must go through a scanner.

Thanks so much, douche wad

For slowing me down

Each and every time

I head out of town.

Now thousands are dead

And, look, you are as well

And here I am left

Growing a tail.

Casey Anthony

We all know you did it, we all know you lie

The questions are burning—we want to know why

You partied too hard and it melted your brain

But it’s unlikely you’ll be labeled insane

Too bad for you; there was never a Zanny

You totally fabricated a nanny

You never worked at Universal Studios

Mostly you worked at being a ho

You never were girlfriend to Jeffery Hopkins

And very much to your sad chagrin

You were never friends with Juliette Lewis

They were just part of your mental abyss

We will all see if there was really abuse

Any truth behind your self-styled noose

Under layers of Xanax and drugs and sex

Somewhere in there is a cache of facts

Whether we all will ever find out

Make no mistake and leave no doubt

Somewhere in there you remember Caylee

Just tell the truth and honor her memory.

The caffeine made me do it.

The premise to this blog is simple—I drink caffeine, I write poems. It’s been a hobby of mine for years and I have finally decided that I want to share it with the world, or at least my little corner of the Internet. I am very sensitive to caffeine and have a love-hate relationship with it. It feeds the madness, so I enjoy drinking it, but also feel kind of bad for the people who have to see me regularly and have to put up with my two caffeine modes—endless chatter or haggard caffeine drop. Fortunately, I am not very social so those people are relatively few.

I intend to do two kinds of poems here—newsy crap and little silly poems. I like to make fun of the news, of other people, of myself. Sometimes I like to have deep thoughts, too, but not often. If you are easily offended or don’t care for occasional crude language, please look away.

I am also very interested in poem requests or suggestions. Feel free to email me or comment me with ideas and somewhere around my next cup of caffeine, I will see what I can do.

You are welcome to share the poems via Facebook, Twitter, etc, but please include a link with the poem if you do. Sharing is caring, but no profiteering off of the poems.