Tag Archives: poem

A Poem For St. Patrick 2020








All hail St. Patrick, the Irish Darth Vader!
One armed with penis, the other? Lightsabre.
While Vader wears black, our good Saint prefers green;
While Pat poos in sacks, Darth poos in machines

All hail Darth Vader, the lanky Joe Rogan!
One worships Sith Lords, the other Hulk Hogan.
While Rogan smokes weeds, our sweet Darth prefers air
While Vader’s head bleeds, Joe’s has no hair.

All hail Joe Rogan, the thinking man’s Bono!
One’s from New Jersey, the other Toronto.
While Bono sings hymns, Joe makes a podcast;
While Rogan’s in gyms, Bono does what he’s asked.

All hail St. Patrick, the killer of serpents!
And cheers to Darth Vader for choking his servants.
Raise one for Rogan, the eater of beef.
A black beer for Bono and the red maple leaf.


Easy poetry

Poetry is the easiest art form to master so if you’re looking to impress a girl, eulogize a Scottish guy or find a creative way to list your volunteer experience on a resume, use poetry. For years I’ve been one of the top poets in Ontario and it’s not because I see the beauty in boring things like lawns. Here are some tips to turn you into me:

Rhyme a sentence

Most poetry is goddamn nonsense but since it’s considered “art”, you can write anything and someone out there will think it’s profound. To make an easy abstract poem, write down any common sentence and then rhyme it to form something new.

Sample sentence:
All you gotta do is find at least two words that sound like each other.

Now rhyme it with any words you want to form a beautiful, abstract poem:
Ball stew rot of poo
piss grint rat beast
poo curds fat
drowned bike beach mother

Make a haiku

It’s so dumb that haikus are considered poems because they’re so easy to do as long as you know what syllables are. Syllables are like, the number of things that sound like… one thing in a word or sentence… um, they’re like drum beats but… what am I, a dictionary?

To make a haiku write one sentence that’s 5 syllables, another that’s 7 and then another that’s 5. I can make a haiku out of the bullshit I just wrote:

Syllables are like
The number of things that sound…
um, they’re like drum beats

make up whatever you want but don’t smile when someone reads it in front of you

Part of being a poet is knowing when to frown. Here’s something I made up that doesn’t have anything to do with my emotions:

The sound of winter
The taste of fall
The onion in the

Take this poem to your teacher and read it with a frown and you’ll get an A-, guaranteed. Crack a smile and it’s detention time where you’ll probably be forced to write a real poem about how rude you’ve been.

Place around with space

Every poet wishes they could draw but since they can’t they treat their poem paper like a canvas, splashing words here and there to make it look cool. You can’t put sunglasses on a steak and make it look like a cow but apparently you can wiggle words and make a poem a hit. Let’s take this poem I came up with just now:

Trees shake from top to tail
They’re Used to it.
Wind Moves Trees
It’s Used To IT.

Pretty boring. Watch what happens once we shift things around:

Trees shake from top to tail
                                            They’re Used to it.
                                                                    Wind Moves Trees
                                                                                           It’s Used To IT.


St. Patrick’s Day archive poem

Oh. My. God. I am so embarrassed. I try to show the world I’m the most organized Torontonian since the autistic librarian whose legendary eyes were dubbed “Twin Potatoes” by the press, and yet here I am, a week late bringing this premium content into your homes.
The truth is, I was on vacation last week in the mountains and due to the fun of swooshing down a ski hill on a coupla plastic knives as well as the altitude sickness I felt most of the time, I plum forgot. I say break out the Irish whiskey, ignore everyone you love, recall what you did last Monday and shut the fuck up, because here’s the poem I was talking about that isn’t really that new, but is still applicable to today’s issues.

A poem for St. Patrick

Oh you green man, your day is here
When lasses and lads drink purple beer
Haha, you’re smart, you caught my lie
Now let’s all eat some apple pie
What’s that? No pie? Not today?
I don’t think I get this holiday

This is the one where people chew
And give small gifts to their nephew

They swat at bees and swim all day
While sisters bake their cassoulets

We all wear ties, even the misses
And each give our legs 100 kisses

Don’t give me that look you stupid shit
This is St. Patrick’s Day, isn’t it?

I guess my parents lied to me
Cause we celebrate with pies and bees

Green beer, dumb hats and leprechauns?
I think I’ll pass and head to Don’s

My dad and I will kiss some legs
And eat St. Patrick’s Easter Eggs

And I can’t wait until Christmas Day
When we eat a bear and pretend we’re gay