We could’ve been a miracle
Like a bottle of lightning,
With ardor and passion
That bordered on frightening,
Two bits of a puzzle
That fate formed as one
Destined for fortune
And family and fun.
We could’ve been lovers
And best friends for life,
The textbook example
Of husband and wife.
You could’ve been my world,
My earth, sea, and sky,
If only your first message
Were more than just, “hi.”
Filed under Poems
Some things are unspeakable,
Depraved beyond compare.
The fact that they exist
Causes many much despair.
Such things are irredeemable
And inspire only hate
And it’s important I discuss them
On every single date.
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
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.
She doesn’t play mind games.
She doesn’t hate pets.
These days that’s quite close to as good as it gets.
She isn’t ugly.
She isn’t mean.
She’s the not-baddest person that I’ve ever seen.
She has other friends.
She gets off the couch.
Her spirit animal is not Oscar the Grouch.
She’s not into drama.
She’s not a KGB spy.
My only concern is that “she” is a guy.
Filed under Poems
If marriage were like football
There would be no single men.
Every year they’d scout for wives
And draft a girl or ten
Then sign them to a contract
For a couple wondrous years
And give them shirts with numbers
And use them to sell beers.
We’d all have favorite teams of wives
Like the Ashleys or the Sophies
Who live in different cities
And try to win us trophies,
And when the best turn 40
(Or sometimes just 34)
We’d trade them off to other teams
And draft a dozen more.
If marriage were like football
Maybe life would be ok,
But instead it seems to be more like
The WNBA.
Filed under Poems
The phrase “I want your baby”
Is sometimes super hot.
Mostly it depends if she’s
A cannibal or not.
Filed under Poems
He found the perfect woman
And he bought the perfect ring
And he planned a perfect marriage
For a perfect queen and king.
Together in the gardens
He knelt and asked, “Would you…?”
And she took a knee beside him
And they silently protested racial injustice in sports.
Filed under Poems
I’m not a really kinky dude
(As you may have surmised)
So I don’t know if this is real
But I wouldn’t be surprised:
There should be a dating site
For folks who “sub” or “dom”
To meet in public places…
“Strike-Anywhere Match.com”
Filed under Poems
Two years ago on Sunday
I looked into her eyes
And promised her I love her
And I’m not like other guys.
One year ago on Sunday
I met with her and said
I’d fly us both to Venice
And we’d never leave the bed.
And now this year on Sunday
I’ll ask her to be my bride
And maybe this time she’ll says yes
And I’ll feel good inside!
Filed under Poems
