Tag Archives: Love

Widow Lives Matter

Even though her legs are hairy

She’s still beautiful.

Just because her jaw is wide

Doesn’t make her unfeminine.

I don’t love her any less

Just because she has eight legs,

Thirty-seven eyes,

And mandibles to store venom in.

I don’t mind her bug-eating thing

Or her webs around the house,

Her association with evil

And summoning of bad lucks.

The only real area

Where her allure could be improved

Is the part where she kills and eats me

After every time she… well shucks.

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The 900-Year-Old Virgin

I discovered a Star Wars easter egg

That no one’s noticed yet.

The Jedi forbid romantic love

In times the prequels set.

This ban on love and marriage

As a staple of Jedi law

Lasted from Yoda’s infancy

To his death on Dagobah.

So the Easter egg I mentioned

That everybody missed

Is Yoda was Disney’s Frog Prince

That no one ever kissed.

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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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I Guess This Makes Me A Bigot, Right?

Go back a century or so

And you’ve got places blacks can’t go.

You’d be shamed to dare to love

A person from a class above.

Today my alma maters wants

To build us “No white student” haunts

And though we seek to seem the same

What’s “Commonplace” is seen as lame.

Back then we fought for equal rights

For blacks and browns and reds and whites.

Now in our “That’s racist” nation

We praise illegal immigration.

Does no one else yet see the flaw

In praising those who break the law,

The symptoms of a dying nation

Shouting for resegregation?

Yes, I want love, so please desist

With calling me “Supremacist”

And maybe past our skin we’ll find

We share a human heart and mind.

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She’s Lying…

Everything’s fine.

I won’t get mad.

I don’t care about your exes.

I’m almost ready.

I’ll call you right back.

I don’t mind you buying that Lexus.

I really don’t care.

I really don’t mind.

I really (insert anything here).

No, I’m not jealous

And if we get married

I’ll never make you watch Shakespeare.

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Flirting In Canada

I was a man

And she was not.

She hadn’t noticed me

But I thought she was hot.

I approached her politely

And told her “I’m Dan.”

She was, in hindsight, not pleased

So I got two years in the can.

I remember when men

Were not seen as a foe,

But not anymore

Thanks to Justin Trudeau.

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This Is Closer To Reality Than I’d Like (And Yes, Niche Does Rhyme With Itch)

Sometimes I wish I were an itch,

An itch that can’t be scratched

So I could bug the ugly thug

To whom you are attached.

Then when you were single

I would steal away your heart

And just like that eternal itch

We’d never be apart.

But eventually you’d hate me

And the scratching I’d inspire

And you’d dump me for some other jerk

Of whom you would soon tire

Then I would swoop back to you,

Your faithful little itch

And maybe this time you won’t dump me?

What do you mean my fetish is niche…

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