I think if I were a nun
I’d want to carry a gun
‘Cause I wouldn’t enjoy
Being mistook for a boy
When the priest says he wants to “have fun.”
Tag Archives: Black Humor
Bad Romance
I love you
Like Japan loves tentacles,
Like psychos love murder
And goth teens love pentacles.
I love you
Like Chris Pratt loves his raptors
And people with Stockholm
Syndrome love their captors.
I love you
Like a farmer loves cattle,
Like that one guy you know
Loves leather and a paddle.
I love you
Like Tarantino loves gore
And it’s for these reasons
I can’t see you no more.
Filed under Poems
40 Virgins Is A Better Incentive… Just Saying
They mentioned becoming Jewish.
They said I ought and should.
Then the bris and lack of bacon came up
And Hell started to sound real good.
Filed under Poems
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
Especially If Her Name Is Daisy
My favorite flowers are daisies.
My favorite black president is Obama.
My favorite meal and my favorite animal
Both are the same: They’re yo’ mama.
Filed under Poems
How To Fail Less
If at first you don’t succeed
Find out who has made it so
Then stab that person ’til they bleed
And on to victory you’ll go.
This strategy has proven good
Historically for folks who are male
But wait! Do it not you should
If you cause yourself to fail.
Filed under Poems
Trigger Warning: This Poem Contains Thought Crime
You say I have privilege
Because I’m male and white.
You call me uninformed
Because I don’t think you’re right.
You can have my privilege too.
All you must do to try it
Is to move out of the cities
Where “recreation” means “to riot.”
You can disagree with me
While you drink another beer
Thanks to taxes paid by this poet
Making 4-figures a year.
Filed under Poems
Cooked Allah Mode
There is a mighty crater here
Where recently there wasn’t.
Ali-Baba said his bomb works
And I said “No it doesn’t.”
Ali-Baba sure was right.
Correct ’twas the hunch he had,
But he misread the bombs locale.
Thus ended his jihad.
So Basically Tide Pods, Right?
If you’ve always dreamed of fame
But the dream never came to fruition
I have a helpful tidbit
From yours truly’s intuition:
Drink a bunch of chemicals
Then pretend you have the flu
And with any luck some doctor
Will name a condition after you!
Filed under Poems
National Geographic Vs. HBO
I hear the pitter-patter
Of the children’s tiny feet,
See them playing in the forest
Despite the sultry August heat.
They run and sing so happily.
They live without a care.
They’ll fill my belly nicely
‘Cause %^*# you, I’m a bear.
Filed under Poems
