Tag Archives: Fear

When You’re A Cop, She Knows A Lawyer, And #MeToo Is Trending

I looked at her chest

And she called me rude

Though she walked down the street

Ninety-eight percent nude.

Yes, she was a burglar

But she had a vag

So I saved myself trouble

And turned in my badge.

I wanted to uphold

The laws of the land

But somewhere the culture

Got quite out of hand.

Had I filmed the occasion

‘Twould be legal, but hey!

Now I play “Call Of Duty”

And tell folks I’m gay.

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Approach Anxiety – Power Metal Version

My feelings unspoken

Are like chains unbroken:

Restraining. Containing

The beast locked within.

To have them be heard…

A heart turned to word…

Uncurtained, uncertain

Of where to begin.

I know I can’t fight

The coming of night.

I don’t know what’s right

When I hear you coming.

Who knows what I’ll say

When night turns to day.

I’ll continue this way

Into the land of numbing.

I look in your hazel eyes

Hoping this feeling dies

But the beast smells a feast

And my heart needs to roar.

Steel bars start to bend

And I cannot contend

So I do what feels true:

Let the beast break down the door.

I knew not to fight

The coming of night.

I did what felt right

When I heard you calling.

Who knows what I’ll say

When night turns to day.

I’ll continue this way

Though it feels like falling.

The cage opens wide,

Lets the monster outside.

The beast is released

And it pounces on you.

But claw scratches steel;

How can this be real?

Could it be, just like me,

There’s a beast inside you?

I welcome our fight

In the coming of night.

Can’t know that I’m right

But it’s worth the gamble.

Who knows what I’ll say

When night turns to day

But I no longer hide

For lack of preamble.

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A Male Perspective

Your presence is like ice cream

Eaten with a wooden spoon

While a puppy sits upon my lap

Some Sunday afternoon.

Your voice is like a raindrop

After seven years of drought.

I’m acting like a macho dude

For fear that you’ll find out.

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Paper Heart

Twenty years or so before

I turned the age of 24

I feared to give a paper heart

To that one special lass.

Ten years after, now 14

I’ve had my eye on other queens

But my feeling for the paper heart girl

Never seems to pass.

In the present world we find

Our troubled and still childish mind

Called to give the other sex

Eternal loyalty.

I’m loyal to who understands

My paper heart and shaking hands.

Does she still exist? Perhaps

In ten more years we’ll see.

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The Vanishing Glass

They can trap us in their zoo

Behind their walls of glass

And teach us social boundaries

That we’re not allowed to pass,

Feed us just enough bad news

To keep our anger stoked

So we don’t see the sedatives

With which we’re being poked.

We the livestock draw the crowds

Of wealthy and elected

Whose power cries more loudly

Than the souls they have neglected.

They say they’ll cure our poverty

If they can have their way

Then toast with million dollar wine

And fly their jets away.

We watch the birds who fly outside

This zoo we somehow cherish.

We think that if we join them

We would starve or freeze or perish,

Yet the glass is not unbreakable

In our patron’s steel zoo.

Some of us still crave the sky

And so I ask: Do you?

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When You’re Flying In 16A

Like the great beluga whale

It weighs a couple tons,

Is pale as homemade yogurt,

And very seldom runs,

It makes a high-pitched squealing

When it means to share its views.

It mentions it’s in 16B

And apparently that’s good news?

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The Rebuke of Sgt. Stayalive

Bring thy swords and don thy mail.

Ensure your steed is fed.

We’ll ride before the morning

And may never go to bed.

Bestill the fear within your hearts

Though the menace so approacheth.

If thou disobey these things

Then thou we will reproacheth.

Our phalanx must stand in unity.

Our legion must conglomerate.

Your questioning, if it should show,

Brings nothing but drama ‘r hate.

We ride! We ride to battle!

To death and glorious war!

And it doesn’t help morale if you

Keep asking “but what for?”

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RIP Bob (1945-2014), Most Valuable Employee (2015-Present)

A lot of Toms and Dicks and Harrys

Think of death as something scary,

But I see little cause for fright

In the unknown of an endless night.

Say a chicken passed away.

Some would cry and weep and sway

But I would fry it in some lard

In lieu of writing a sympathy card.

So if a friend or neighbor dies

Would it not be equally wise

Not to equate God to a beast

But to sell the corpse to Fancy Feast?

And if you are the one to pass

Why not do it with some class?

You’re dead, but life need not end. How?

Well, some call centers are hiring now…

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She’s Got Legs!

I see a little spider

Crawling up my leg.

A part of me is screaming!

It wants to plead and beg,

But as the beast gets closer

My mind begins to clear

And I realize that, in this spider,

I have nothing to fear.

And so I watch her scuttle

From my ankle to my knee.

My two green eyes watch her

And her eight black eyes watch me,

And as our eyes make contact

I feel our spirits join.

The spider and I are friends now

As she crawls over my groin.

The spider meets my pelvis.

She passes o’er my hips.

Where once they brought me horror

Her eyes could now sink ships.

Her silky brunette body

Tempts me towards an unnamed sin

And I find myself attracted

To a patch that looks like a violin.

The spider now is crawling

Onto my left pectoral

And my mind’s engaged in matters

Of arrangements marital and floral.

She crawls onto my neck now,

Her gorgeous eyes the size of fleas.

She’s nearly to my head now

And I’m nearly on my knees.

She crawls onto my soul patch

And one of her footies slips.

I catch it and replace it

And she crawls onto my lips.

A kiss! A kiss! How lovely

As her mandibles meet mine.

I slip off into a restful sleep

As on me she starts to dine.

I don’t wake up that evening,

Nor tomorrow, nor the next,

Yet dead and cold as I may be

I do not feel vexed.

So when you see such spiders

In their web or in their lair

Instead of giving them the Kleenex

Try to show them that you care.

For though you’ll never meet them

On account of being desiccated

Your eyes will fill with baby spiders

To which you just might be related.

The babies ask “where’s daddy?”

And mommy spider’ll have a chat

And then they’ll go find  love like us.

What’s more beautiful than that?

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The Real Darkness Approaches…

Once a year we celebrate

The gruesome and bizarre,

The stuff that gives clowns nightmares

And makes wolves hide under cars.

We make light of the horrific,

Let go the values we hold dear…

We call this celebration “tax day”

And it’ll come in half a year.

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