A week ago five billionaires
Paid half a million each
To sink into the ocean
To within Titanic‘s reach.
Today, a billionaire put up
For sale a chance to fly
Into space, which makes my face
Nonverbally scream “Why?”
A week ago five billionaires
Paid half a million each
To sink into the ocean
To within Titanic‘s reach.
Today, a billionaire put up
For sale a chance to fly
Into space, which makes my face
Nonverbally scream “Why?”
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The people aboard
The Titanic never heard
“Nah babe, just the tip.”
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As icy water wraps me
Like Satan’s comfort blanket
The naked truth hits me
Like one of my French girls.
I realize that I will die
And almost certainly not win an Oscar.
I look out on the ocean,
Green waves far away massage
Where the shore’s shoulders would be
If the shore had shoulders.
A cold wind turns the surface
Into a speckled visage,
The watery face of a teenage boy
If that’s what the ocean were.
Leagues below, seaweed dances
As a beloved mermaid sings
About how unsatisfied she is
With royalty and wealth.
All I hear is screaming,
The sound of burning wreckage
Sinking below the surface,
And Celine Dion warming up offstage.
As I gaze into the eyes of my love
Whom I met a few hours ago
My suffering diminishes
For I do not suffer alone.
A thousand boyfriends will share
This 214-minute suffering
For so long as home videos exist.
I was her shoulder to cry on,
Something the shoulderless shore
Will never be.
Okay, I’m cold now.
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Let the record show
I really didn’t know
That an iceberg could do damage
Like that iceberg did.
Don’t think I didn’t care
That a floating bit was there,
Begging for some rammage
With nine-tenths of its body hid.
Let the record indicate
That good-old-me, the captain’s mate,
Gave warning to the skipper,
But he did merely scoff.
Then the captain broke the ship
And so he went out for a dip.
He was a lousy tipper,
So in the end, we’re better off.
Filed under Poems