All white males suck
Because they are prejudiced
Based on race and sex.
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Tag Archives: Postaday
Dear Not-America, Love The U.S. of A
Hello from America,
Where we play real football!
Our dicks are the same size as yours
Although you’re not as tall.
Our women spend more money
And our kids aren’t well-behaved
But we have free tap water
And most of our roads are paved.
We owe your nation money
That we’ll never repay
But we also have lots of nukes
So please do what we say.
Our politicians are all crooks
And most are wimps as well
But we pledge them our allegiance
And pretend that things are swell.
But speaking patriotically
Our country’s still the best
At drinking booze per-capita
And functioning while stressed.
Here’s how you can emigrate
From where you live right now:
Just walk to California
And never leave. Kapow!
Filed under Poems
The Farmer’s Breakup
If you see a cow
Running o’er the fields of Maine
Please tell her that I was wrong
And to please come home again.
Filed under Poems
War Isn’t So Bad…
We’ve walked among some Autumn glades
Just us and the wind from the helicopter blades.
Falling gently to the ground
Are a leaf and some limbs and an M16 round.
A quaint little creek
Glitters bright mountain green
And, despite all our blood,
Is still cool fresh and clean.
We came here to camp,
Found these meadows to walk,
Because some old men
Wouldn’t sit down and talk,
But we can take solace
And our hearts can still sing
All thanks to the peace
That our murder will bring.
Filed under Poems
Ode To A Xylophone
Thirty-six to forty-eight
Bars of polished wood
Cut in a way that they vibrate
To play the note they should.
It isn’t quite a saxophone
If used to woo the fairer sex
But out from the crowd it has grown
Because its name starts with an X.
Filed under Poems
The Complete Abbreviated Works Of Shakespeare
“Wherewithin the stuff doth lie
Comes hither forth to thee and I.”
We know not what its meaning may be
But its important to someone with a PhD.
Filed under Poems
When The Light Goes Out Things Get Dark
There is one green light bulb
From an old Christmas tree
In the upper-left-hand plastic ring
Of the thingy that holds together
A six-pack of generic-brand cola,
Reclining in an Ohio landfill,
Never again to be lit
Or decorate a house
Or hold public office,
But the bulb is happy
Because it will outlast the family
Who chucked it in a hefty bag
And forgot all about it.
The bulb remembers.
The bulb is patient.
The bulb is all out of mercy…
Filed under Poems
