Honestly, the most American sport
That no one’s thought of yet
Would have to be drunk NASCAR
(Or its equivalent)
Where the racers have to drink
A bunch if whiskey sours
Until they cannot walk, and then
Turn left for several hours.
It’s a last-man-standing race
That proves, HD and live,
That it is not a good idea
For one to drink and drive,
And yet some kids will spend their lives
Trying to be a pro.
Years later, in Utopia,
We’ll ask, “Where’d the dummies go?”
Filed under Poems
A growing social concern
That, to us, recently came
And affects the common person
Is Inequality of Fame.
Some folks are very famous
And some people are not
And it’s patently unfair
And it ain’t how it ought.
I suggest a policy
Wherein all people must
Create a social profile
With a media giant we trust
And exactly one trillion people
And never more or less
Must follow every profile
So society won’t regress.
If everybody’s famous
We’ll have perfect mental health.
Then maybe a trillion dollar minimum wage
Can do the same for wealth!
Update: It’s come to this poet’s attention that white, heterosexual, natal-males still exist, so this probably won’t happen for a while.
Filed under Poems
I think a good name
For a model of car
Is “Starving African Child
“From Madagascar.”
The reason for this
I’d explain at a meeting:
One’s fast due to engines
And one fasts by not eating.
Filed under Poems
How soft the calling of the rose in bloom;
Its rage not diminished by its small size,
For it has seen a man deliver doom
With not a drop, remorseful, from his eyes.
The rose who screams has seen its brothers fall,
Cleft and tied as trinkets for a hot date.
It cries without lungs, giving it its all,
Petals in bloom, show’ring it foes with hate.
Then red and white and pink and gold align
Together in the vengeful rose’s song,
A harmony unheard by humankind
Until they are a dozen voices strong.
Then weep! The florist ends their final day.
Aren’t you relieved I brought you no bouquet?
Filed under Poems
Easter is the day a rabbit brings
Chocolate, eggs, and other things
To all the children with rich parents
And even to the folks named Clarence.
The bunny is a major hit
Among the kids for bringing shit.
They do not know it’s master plan…
The pigs do, and they’re not a fan.
Filed under Poems
The “New World Order” people
And Illuminati really
Missed the point; That making people
Into sheep is kinda silly.
After all, who wants to conquer
A bunch of people dumb enough
To fall for propaganda
As insane as modern stuff?
The Vikings and the Mongols
Had at least old-fashioned pride,
And made sure that their detractors
Fought in wars and mostly died.
But today, old-fashioned values
Like rape and pillage have degraded
To where “rape” means being male
And “pillage” means “medicated.”
And so if all the people
That conspiracies suggest
Cancel all the good among us
And then rule o’er all the rest
I wish them much good fortune
When their conquest is complete.
They’ll starve in perfect harmony
While the cancelled grill their meat.
Filed under Poems
Yesterday, the internet
Decided to be rude
And with regards to a poem I wrote
The scheduling was eschewed.
The poem in question, “A Halfass Ballad”
Was supposed to be published today
But instead it published an hour before
I wrote it yesterday.
Apparently a time machine
Malfunctioned for a bit
And made the WordPress platform
Look like a load of… anyway
The point of this poem
Is I put effort and thought
Into “yesterday’s” poem
So today effort give I’ll not.
Seriously though… go read “A Halfass Ballad.” It may be the last good poem I publish for some time, as longtime readers are aware. And if you’re still reading this italicized footnote, obviously you have plenty of time on your hands so don’t say “But I just read today’s poem, so I can’t go back and read another one.” Because you can. Also, if you already read “A Halfass Ballad,” read it again because it’s more interesting than this. Seriously, why are you even still here? Love ya!
Filed under Poems
If ever there were a day
To say Joe Biden died
And Kamala was the pres now
And would be preside with pride
Just to test the public
To see how they react
It would be April 1st I guess.
Abloo scaree kerack.
Filed under Poems
Come all ye round and sit ye down
And hear me lonesome tune
About a man who dreamed to show
The whole wide world the moon.
He dreamt of walking round in space
And that breathtaking view
And yet alas, a dream of NASA
Never could come true.
For this here lad of whom we sing
Was born without a feature
Incurable by brilliant minds
Or the nation’s finest teacher.
The man, who’s name we shall not say
For fear what he might do
Was born with only one buttock…
Just half the normal two!
Now don’t ye mock the man who had
That single wondrous cheek,
The sight of which could shush a bitch
And make her knees grow weak.
Oh yes, the ladies stopped and stared
And many more went mute
When they’d walk by the halfass guy
And his one glorious glute.
Alas, with but a half a butt
The fellow couldn’t run,
And so he’d sit and tan a bit
In rain or sleet or sun,
Leaving all a full display
The privilege of his birth:
And in the night the moon so bright
Shone on the moon of Earth.
Now in the water by the beach
Whereon our hero tanned
There lived a mermaid of the sea
With hair like golden sand
Who also wore no clothes to hide
Her modesty from view,
And soon she fell in love, for she
Had just one buttock too.
She sang a song of ocean life:
How living in the sea
Was not unlike the moon in that
It lacked most gravity.
She beckoned him to join her in
A land both wet and wild
To share a life of happiness
With many a one-cheek child.
Our hero was quite skeptical,
For of the girls he knew.
Could a lass with half an ass surpass
A lass whose ass had two?
And more important in his mind
Was if he could adjust
To a woman who, as all could view,
Had also but one bust?
Yet as she sang, way up and down
Did heave that single breast
And with such grace his dream of space
Was soon but second best.
And so they left the land alone,
No longer to breath air.
And thus one perfect buttock was
Half of a perfect pair.
What if men who’re two feet tall
Are the physical ideal,
The epitome of manliness
With endless lust and zeal?
All the women saying
They prefer a taller guy
Have never seen a two-foot man…
True candy for the eye!
And although such small men are rare,
Precious and petite,
A man who’s 2-foot-6 or so
Is also really neat.
In fact, any guy beneath three feet
Is a slice of masculine heaven
Unless, of course, the manlet stands
Exactly 1’11”
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 