There are 300 urinals present.
Just the first and last are used at all.
If one of those two isn’t open
Non-sociopaths use a stall.
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Yep, Still Single…
Cancer is better than feminists.
Of this I am convinced.
I know people who beat cancer
And haven’t heard from it since.
But fate is not so happy
For those who’ve contracted feminism
For between them and common sense
Is a nigh-incurable schism.
Cancer kills quickly and painfully.
Feminism’s mostly the same
Except it lacks social stigma
And casts a whole lot more blame.
Feminists ask for equality
While cancer makes all of us equal.
Cancer terminates us while feminism
Makes an all-female terminator sequel.
And if you find you’re a feminist
Whether long-term or out of the blue
You have to live with yourself. With cancer
That’s something you don’t have to do.
Filed under Poems
Side Effects Include Incontinence, Loss of Sleep, Mood Swings, And A Decrease In Bank Account Balances For 18+ Years
Is it just me or do baby names
Sound more and more like drugs?
Is Aaliyah or Grayson
Something one swallows or hugs?
Of Magdalen, Kavita,
Nunzio, and Tierneigh
Which are babies and which are options
To ask my doctor if its right for me?
There’s Allegra and Zahara,
Bahari and Alok,
Yet none of these has side-effects
According to my doc.
My hope is in the future
Parents go back so “Pam” and “Lee.”
That or RX companies
Make a drug named after me.
Filed under Poems
Fline Then
I gave someone a gift
Of pigeons sitting on a rock.
When they asked why I told them:
“I don’t give a flying flock.”
Filed under Poems
Home Alone
I stare blankly at the wall,
Fill my mind with off-white paint,
Then picture staring at your face
And feel thankful that I ain’t.
Filed under Poems
Harrr Harrr Harrr…
I found myself marooned
Off the coast of Kansas (somehow)
And saw another pirate was near.
He was selling corn
So I asked about the price.
He said “You’ll only pay a buccaneer.”
Filed under Poems
Schroedinger Goes Golfing
He went out with a ball and club
To tee off on the green
And defined the ball’s trajectory
To a destination unseen.
To warn the other players
Who are simultaneously alive and dead
He shouted the number 24
To avoid whacking a head.
Why he did this most don’t know
But I can tell you why:
The golfer simply shouted 4!
You’re welcome nerds. Now bye!
Filed under Poems
