I sit here at the bus stop
Reading Fifty Shades of Grey
(Which I got at the library
‘Cause for that crap I won’t pay)
And as I skim from the intro
Until the final line
I see one quite clear shade
But where’s the other forty-nine?
Tag Archives: America
Social Norms: A Disney Musical (Yes, This Is Irony)
Keep it in, keep it in.
Just keep it bottled up
And let no petty feelings
Fall in your proverbial cup.
Don’t be tempted by expression
And ignore that will to live
‘Cause money’s what you want
And money’s all we have to give.
So keep it in, keep it in.
Keep it tucked away inside.
Joyful outbursts and sad moments
Neither one should you abide.
All those swirly bits of feeling
That bounce around your head
Are horrors from the outside world.
Just watch TV instead!
Keep it in, keep it in
Because peace takes too much work
And if you are emotional
People might think you’re a jerk,
So take a swig, a puff, a pill,
A needle in your vein
So you can keep it in some more
And stop feeling the pain.
When Big Brother Is Ignoring You
If you, dear reader, aren’t aware
Of government surveillance
Then you really ought to know
That the FBI
and CIA
Have a list of words like so:
If you write gun
Or bomb or kill
Or terrorism in an email
You’ll be on
Their list to watch
Whether or not you’re female.
If you write
Assassinate,
Anarchy, or Iran
Then your social media page
Will probably get a scan.
I tell you of
This fact because
My blog needs to get more views.
You’ll know if it
Worked out okay
When my arrest is on the news.
Filed under Poems
No Signal
Last evening I went to a party
To enjoy silly games with my friends,
To gaze in their eyes and avoid all the lies
That daily the Buy Stuff Guild sends.
But when I arrived at the meeting
I found my compatriots dead
For they talked as robots, just of things, not of thoughts,
Comparing what their Facebooks said.
Now I wander the streets, I the phoneless
Through the crowd who feel proud of their debt.
Is there still a someone who is friends with the sun,
To whom strangers’ hellos are no threat?
Though I may be lost I still wander
And my home is wherever I’m free.
As I whistle alone, just a man with no phone,
I hope that you’ll smile back at me.
Filed under Poems
But Then People Won’t Think Everything In My Life Is Perfect And Be Indifferent/Slightly Insecure About The Whole Thing!
There’s something to be said
For chatting without snap,
Books without face,
Interacting without that crap…
Gramming that’s not instant,
Interests that aren’t pins,
Singing without tweeting.
Real friends don’t need log-ins.
I think our society’s forgotten
The value of offline truth
So why not forget your password
And go enjoy your youth?
Filed under Poems
Thanks State-Funded Early Childhood Education!
I read my child the story
Of a little red poultry whom
I respect, thus its female genitalia
Did not cause me its gender to assume.
My child looked up and said “Parent,
“I like when you do funny voices
“But why can’t we read about princesses
“Then make our own damn political choices?”
Filed under Poems
The Absolutely True Diary of a Trans-Whale
I’ve always admired blue whales,
The largest animals ever
Who traverse the world routinely
And are beautiful, noble, and clever.
And so I became a blue whale
But a good choice, alas, ’tis not been.
I’m surrounded by feminist bloggers
Who just wish they could grow baleen.
Filed under Poems
Back When Some Men Weren’t Rapists
I remember yesterday
When to look at someone was okay,
When an elbow or a shoulder touch
Didn’t mean nearly so much.
I remember yesterday
When a compliment would make her day,
When “you look nice” was not a slur
When casually said by him to her.
I remember yesterday
When a man held doors and asked to pay,
When a bit of gentle care
Was not met with a dour glare.
I remember yesterday
When a guy could idly say
“What’s your number?” and not fear
Her screaming “rape” for all to hear.
So if you remember yesterday
In the aforementioned way
And know its loss would lead to sorrow
Let’s keep the past in mind tomorrow.
Filed under Poems
But The Microwave Is Silver…
The pot called the kettle black.
The kettle thought the pot was a racist kind,
But then kettle saw that the pot was black too
And, quoth the kettle, nevermind.
Filed under Poems
The First Ever Skate-Park Graffiti Artist
Amidst the canyons of cement
I, with my board and spray-paint saw
Amidst the half-pipes, sad and gray,
A never-before-dreamt-of flaw.
For who would want to ride downhill
While listening to bands like “thrust” and “taint”
If there were no large bubble letters
Or titties drawn in low-cost paint?
And so I shook my can of blue.
My conscience whispered “make some art.”
And on the hill, for all to see,
In indigo I spelled out “fart.”
Inwardly proud I swallowed a sob
Then went back to congress to do my job.
The Daily Travesty 