This is some of Brad's favorite poetry. We'd like to thank Ruminate.com for giving us permission to continue publishing a lot of the brilliant poetry found here.

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Poem

I think the best games for children are
the ones that teach as well as entertain.
For example, Spin the Bottle teaches kids
that drinking will often lead to awkward,
embarrassing and unwanted sexual activity.

(Anthony Myers) @ruminate.com

egtg
Posted by Ron's Dentist at November 18, 2007

Poem

If my erection lasts longer than four hours,
you BET I'm contacting a professional!

(Richard Skora) @ruminate.com

Posted by Bittle at November 15, 2007

Poem

I bet my mom wouldn't have written me
out of her will for being an unemployed
loser if she had known how good I'd
eventually become at Minesweeper.

(Jimbo) @ruminate.com

Posted by Bittle at November 7, 2007

Poem

I got confused when the flight attendant woke
me up to ask if I wanted a Wet-Nap, because I
was well on my way to having one on my own.

(J. Hutter) @ruminate.com

Posted by Bittle at November 2, 2007

Poem

Good friends don't let friends drive drunk.
Superfriends no let Hulk smash smashed.

(Brad Simanek) @ruminate.com

Posted by Bittle at October 28, 2007

Poem

Strangely enough, if you exchange the blue liquid
in your Magic 8-Ball with vodka, it doesn't really
affect its mysterious powers of insight and wisdom.

(George MacMillan) @ruminate.com

Posted by Bittle at October 23, 2007

Poem

I want my kids to have the things in life
that I never had when I was growing up.
Things like beards and chest hair.

(Jarod Kintz) @ruminate.com

Posted by Ron's Dentist at October 19, 2007

Poem

To My Beard
- J.R. Solonche

What can I say but I am sorry,
I apologize for what I do to you,
my daily ruthlessness and cruelty.
What can I do but ask for your forgiveness
and your patience. For someday,
I promise you, someday I swear
on the beards of the prophets
and on the beard of the poet Whitman and
on the beard of the president Lincoln,
I will not stop you any longer,
I will let you go free, I will take down
the fence around you made of sharp blades.
For someday, I promise you, I will let
you run wild through the valleys
of my face like a stallion, I will let you
wander over the desert of my face
like a holy man in his vision of heaven
and hell, I will let you grow, blossom
and flourish, and I will stroke you
and comb you and keep you orderly
and free of knots and tangles,
and you in turn will make me look
distinguished, a wise old man as I stroke
you looking serious, looking as though
I were thinking deep thoughts about
life and death. But I will be thinking
only about you, my beard, my second face,
and this will be our secret.

Posted by Bittle at October 15, 2007
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