The pot called the kettle black.
The kettle thought the pot was a racist kind,
But then kettle saw that the pot was black too
And, quoth the kettle, nevermind.
Tag Archives: Race
Not Racist, Just Comfy
I find it funny that those who fought
For an inclusive ideology
Now think that those with “normal” thoughts
Owe outsiders apologies,
That those who culturally kill their kind
Are morally superior
To those who really do not mind
If you’re black, a chick, or queerier,
That while we wear our pale skin
And external genitalia
If we don’t call these things a sin
Then somehow you think we failed ya.
But I’m content and keen to keep
My straight white male role.
My life I live, my crops I reap
In a neighborhood safe to stroll.
So if you wave your protest signs
They’ll not change how I see.
You will not find me cryin’
Because I know it’s fine to be me.
So please don’t give me an earful.
I’m happy being cheerful.
Filed under Poems
I Tried To Write A Blues Song…
If the fact that night’s black
Somehow strikes you as racist,
If you’ve slacked off on the lotion
And your skin has a cray cyst,
If you drink green smoothies
And fly “coexist” kites
You may not have the blues
But you’ve sure got the whites.
When your three-year-old son
Tells you “Daddy, I’m gay”
And your instagram buddies
Say “Hashtag-OMG-yay!”
If you’re upset you don’t need
To fight for your rights
Then I’m sorry my friend
But you may have the whites.
If Samuel L. Jackson’s
Your “number one bro,”
You think its fine to say “moron”
But not to call someone “slow,”
If you think the dragon’s
Misunderstood by the knights
Then give your friends sunglasses
‘Cause you’ve got the whites.
But if you’ve got the whites
There’s no need to be sad.
It’s not your fault your existence
Makes everything bad.
One day we won’t judge people
Based on sex, race, or fat…
If only all the fat rich white males
Could understand that!
Racial PSA
Some claim my speech invalid
Because my skin is pallid.
Some think you can’t be right
If your skin blends into night.
But what we all agree upon
Be we dark or pale
Is that we’re superior to
The common goose or quail.
Filed under Poems
Yes, I’m White. Why Do You Ask?
I played some Chinese checkers
And no one batted an eye.
I enjoyed some Chinese chess
And no one asked me why.
I played some Chinese backgammon
And still they let me enter
But you play Chinese Russian Roulette
And they throw you out of the Chinese cultural center.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 