Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Postal Troubles

Back at home I have a friend
Whose smartness starts to fail
Whenever he's compelled to send
Some shit out through the mail

He's overall a functional
And sentient kind of guy
But somehow when the post's involved
His neurons go awry

You'd think it's pretty easy,
Sending letters through the mail
But for my friend, it's clearly not;
I'll share with you this tale:

I see my friend for New Year's,
We were at his winter home
And suddenly, I felt the urge
To write a little poem

I grabbed my little notebook
And I hunted for my pen -
But nowhere could I find it,
It was lost inside his den

I asked him for a spare one,
Which he launched across the room
I caught it and began to write,
But soon I start to fume

The pen that he had tossed me
Was a broken piece of shit -
It wouldn't write for anything;
I promptly threw a fit

He tossed me yet another pen,
This time, a pen that worked
Which saved him from my screaming,
I was 'bout to go berserk

So finally, I settle down
And write my shitty prose
And finish up the weekend
Chilling with my dearest bros

While packing up my shit for home
I'm searching still in vain,
I found the cap of my poor pen,
'Twas all that had remained

My friend said if he found it,
He would send it out to me
But little did I know just what
A headache that would be

So several long weeks later
I was walking through the door
And spied a tattered letter
That had fallen on the floor

It was sent by a "Ball Ickens"
But I knew who was to blame -
My friend's and Mr. Ickens's
Addresses were the same

And on the worn-out envelope,
A mailee's IOU -
A dollar twenty-seven
Was the postage that was due

The reason for this fee
Was that the letter held within
A lovely little poem
And my motherfucking pen.

You see, my friend, the way
The System figures out a rate
Is by the letter's shape and size
And also by its weight

Another thing that you should know:
Machines sort all the mail
So when you send some bulky shit,
The sorters, they might fail

So add another couple cents!
It's nothing too obscene;
For letters that you send
That can't be processed by machine.

Anyway, your poem there
Suggested there was more -
This letter was the second part
Of what you sent before...

But I had not received
A letter prior to this one;
It seemed the U.S. Post had gone
And ruined all your fun

You had a good idea
For a prank that turned to crap,
To send me first the shitty pen
Without the fucking cap.

And then to send my real pen
With the sheath of shit pen's top
But packed and send improperly,
Your prank became a flop

So now, let's move ahead in time
A couple weeks had passed,
And there I find a letter,
The first one had come at last!

Because you went and sent it
With the pen tip all exposed,
It poked out through the envelope
Releasing that enclosed

And due to this debacle,
Your first letter was delayed -
And in an larger envelope,
Your letter came, prepaid

It got all fuckin' torn to shreds,
En route from you to me
How Goddamn fucking hard
Could sending letters really be?

You've gone and done it once again,
You leave me here astounded
How is it such a simple task
Has left you so confounded?

The U.S. Postal Service
Has a site you can consult
If you want to send a letter
And have positive results

For now, my friend, I'll leave with you
This simple parting word:
The next time that you use the mail,
Don't do it like a turd.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Variations on a Theme

Two poems on the same theme - you decide which one is "better":

They call me the "Vishnu of Dicks"
'Stead of one dick, I got thirty-six
With my three dozen cocks,
Women come 'round in flocks,
'Cuz I satisfy all of their kicks

It's foretold that the "Vishnu of Dicks"
Will have pants that will seem to play tricks
But you'll soon grow aware
That you can't break the stare
That his thirty-six dicks will transfix

Tuesday, March 6, 2012


I have super ejaculate power
I can come for a whole fuckin' hour
When my dick starts to throb,
From the tip of my knob
Sprays a hot, sticky, gooey, white shower