Tag Archives: Women

Thanks, Arbitrary Statistics!

A minute with me

Is an hour in Heaven,

But no woman will know

‘Cause I’m five-foot-eleven.

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Size Matters

Bigger is better in terms of pianos,

4×4’s, salaries, and dicks.

But smaller is better in the eyes of go-getters

When it comes to the waist size of chicks.

——————————————————–

Bigger is better, the man would insist

When it comes to masculine stuff

Because those said men have never had things

That were, in our eyes, big enough.

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When “Beauty” Becomes An Industry

There are some people named “she”

Who want, to a man’s heart, the key

So they wear a disguise

For their tits, hips, and eyes

To find men who will “love me for me.”

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I’m Not Advocating Kidnapping, But…

We once had damsels in distress

And knights to ride to their aid.

Although the knights and damsels are gone

The distress somehow has stayed.

As the all-knowing poet

I have a solution of course:

We need more women who love dragons

And fewer men who own a horse.

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Yep, Still Single…

Cancer is better than feminists.

Of this I am convinced.

I know people who beat cancer

And haven’t heard from it since.

But fate is not so happy

For those who’ve contracted feminism

For between them and common sense

Is a nigh-incurable schism.

Cancer kills quickly and painfully.

Feminism’s mostly the same

Except it lacks social stigma

And casts a whole lot more blame.

Feminists ask for equality

While cancer makes all of us equal.

Cancer terminates us while feminism

Makes an all-female terminator sequel.

And if you find you’re a feminist

Whether long-term or out of the blue

You have to live with yourself. With cancer

That’s something you don’t have to do.

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But Both Are Equally Boring When Presented By The Intellectual Elite

I questioned the need

For vagina monologues.

Why we needed them was a mystery.

Then I realized

That the penis dialogues

Was basically just all of history.

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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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