Big Brother Doesn’t Want To See That!

Sometimes it feels like I’m being watched

By malevolent eyes in in some way.

Then I take off my shirt and pop pimples

And the feeling usually goes away.

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Whoopee!

Once in a while you pass something

That forever changes your life,

That frees you from discomfort

And gastronomic strife.

They come without much fanfare,

Just a single tiny toot,

And you don’t even mind

If the air they do pollute.

Every once in a while

You don’t know what to do

‘Til something in your gut

Will take the lead for you

And the winds that held you back

Now are broken. All is well.

All those who never knew you

Ask “who’s that?” And “what’s that smell?”

Did you ever know that you’re my hero,

The reason why my intestine sings?

All cheese I cut is for your glory!

You pass the wind beneath my wings.

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Honestly, Every Baby Name After 2007 Though…

I feel for baby Adolfs,

Judases, Atillas,

Who had to live entire lives

Proving they’re just vanillas

Instead of evil Hall-of-Famers

Whose names they now must share.

On the other hand, how ’bout some killers

Named Peyton, Taylor, Weston, or Blair?

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Facebook “Conversations”

You know that feeling

When you have to sneeze but can’t

And your nose you already blew?

Imagine that feeling

For an hour or so.

That’s how it feels to be talking with you.

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Dream Jobs

When I was a baby

I went to a farm

And learned about the origins of milk.

I was curious and asked

What happens if you’re tasked

With squeezing udders of the masculine cow’s ilk.

And when farmers laughed

And the parents cringed

I knew I’d stumbled on something good

And I knew when I grew up

I would be an artificial inseminator

Whether or not I really ought or should.

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The Honest Politician’s Prayer

I am a tree without a trunk,

A neck without a spine,

A car without a chassis,

A roller coaster with no line.

I’m an eskimo in Florida,

Someone humble in LA.

You’ve probably never seen me

And it’ll probably stay that way.

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New Perspectives

I once went to a market

For groceries I would buy

When a most unpleasant sight

Fell upon my naive eye.

I can only picture

What occurred before I came

As if the homeless had played poker

And they all had lost the game,

For beside the sidewalk entrance

Underneath the neon sign

Were a hundred empty carts

Neatly tucked into a line.

Somewhere in the city

There are those who’ve lost there way

So I beg you, steal back their carts

For justice! (Please obey)

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