Whose Phone Is This? (Aka The White-Guy-Alone-On-The-Bus-In-Harlem Song)

Whose phone is this

That disturbs my rest,

Who informs its master

By beeping?

Its constant noise

Does so make me stressed

For one minute ago

I was sleeping.

This, this

Is the white guy’s phone

Which disturbs your sleep

Via default tone.

This guy

Will be lain to rest

At the mortuary of Saint Mary.

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Evidence For Those In Support Of The Belief That Puns Are The Lowest Form Of Humor

Sometimes I take a bath

To ease the stress of taxation.

I fill the tub with herbs

Such as thyme for relaxation.

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Guess What I Did This Afternoon!

When arguing online you do

Your foe may fail to convince you,

May reject logic, spew rhetoric,

And end up looking pathetic,

May cite false studies, make up a fact,

Surrender any façade of tact,

May display no virtue and every sin,

But alas, my friend, you still won’t win. 

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How I Greet New Neighbors

Like an inexpensive cut of meat

Stewed for many a lukewarm hour

You’re welcome when sold on my street

But far less welcome in my shower.

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Advice Is Appreciated

Don’t want to marry just some girl.

I’m looking for a wholesome girl.

A girl whose lack of cleavage

Warms my big platonic heart.

A girl who thinks that working’s

Not synonymous with twerking.

A girl who skips the bar

Because she wants to look at art.

I want to find a happy lass

Who doesn’t want to shake her ass,

Who goes to church on Sundays

And buys ice cream from a truck,

Who’s pure and chaste and sweet

And, instead of “lit,” says “neat.”

But I also want Beyonce,

So I’m feeling kinda stuck…

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A New Rainbow Awakens

I’m feeling kinda down

Like a king without a crown.

I’m cowardly, as yellow as they come.

I’ve read like half a million books

By a bunch of chefs and cooks

But about sustainability I’m still dumb.

I thought maybe I’d fit in

If I changed my skin

But this spray-tan makes me look like that guy on the news.

You put it all together

In the rain or sunny weather…

I’ve got the well-read, not-green, yellow, orangey-white guy blues.

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Why I’m No Longer A Gender Studies Major

Nevertheless

Always the more

Seldom the -ible

But often the horr-

Too much conniption

For such a poor fit

This new lack of him/her

Well, I’m tired of it

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