Category Archives: “Poetry”

Waits

You’ve got a long, long wait
Until your corpse gets swept away
Into the water.

It will be longer still
Before the government can
Notify your daughter.

Extemporaneous poetry

Trust me, the
Spoken-word performance of
This
Is magnificent.

Daily Hey Magic Number: 59

Incest = not best

Incest wasn’t best.
Put my sister to the test.
By and large, was not impressed.

Daily Hey Magic Number: 61

Disenchanted

You’re disenchanted with your panties
Fanning blandly in your shanty
Drinking empty cans of bottled beer
And wearing but a black brassiere

Your husband wants to go out, can he
Dirty shirts make him look manly
Half an hour goes by and then
You urge him to stay in again

He gets so fed up with your ranting
Yells, but then ends up recanting
Backing from his failed chance, he
Knows who doesn’t wear the panties…

Daily Hey Magic Number: 62

Hellvana

Change your name. Hide your shame.
There ain’t nothin’ like a dame.

Daily Hey Magic Number: 87

I’m so happy about Jesus

Have you heard about the Christ, Jesus Christ of Nazareth?
He’d been tacked up to a tree or something ? a cross, that’s it.
And anyway, the fella died, or anyhow, so it seemed,
Such a total shame, such a nice boy. Good speaker.

So his fans had been distraught, setting up their vigils and whatnot,
And it got a little crazy with the mourning. No, not in the morning. At night.
But then some drunkards got the idea of busting into his tomb.
And wouldn’t you know it? He wasn’t in there.

Well, perhaps his grave was robbed, his body taken from the place.
And that’s what they all figured happened. Right?
But others say, and I agree, he escaped death somehow.
He faked his death and got away!

I’m so happy about Jesus!
I’m so happy about the Christ!
I hope he has a nice life! I hope he finds a wife!
Never wanted him to die, oh no, not I.

Well, if he is alive, I’m sure he’s far from here now.
Far from this god-forsaken place.
With its cruel and unusual punishment ? am I right, people?
I bet he hopes he never sees a fucking cross again!

I’m so happy about Jesus!
I’m so happy about that Christ boy.

Daily Hey Magic Number: 93

Cents

Reminds me of the time we went to dine inside the shrine
And the alligator waiter ate nine cents out of the dime
It was generous in general and was generally genteel
But the cents inside the skin did not appreciate the peel

Daily Hey Magic Number: 94

Umbrellas

Umbrellas are magnificent creatures;
They unify preachers and atheist teachers,
And short stubby clutchers and long lanky reachers,
And uggos and persons with handsomer features.
To use an umbrella is not at all draining,
And does not require significant training,
But nobody likes to get wet when it’s raining,
And anyone who says otherwise is a fucking liar.

Daily Hey Magic Number: 95

Goiter

There’s a lump in daddy’s throat where all the money goes. It’s so enlarged I’ve felt obliged to wear concealing clothes. And iodine would keep it fine, but that luxury’s not mine, so they give me all these pills, and I can’t swallow those.

My rep is lined with strep; I’ve been quarantined. My adam’s apple’s outlasted its warranty, and it’s bobbing in the tub, an irreparable flub of my heretofore untested biochemistry.

And the goiter in my throat will make it hard for me to cope. And it’s hard enough, considering I’ve lost all scope.

All these nodules on my module may asphyxiate, but inflammatory statements only escalate. And they’re growing so diffuse, soon they’ll fall into disuse, as I will not speak for fear that I might suffocate.

I’ve made a choice to throw my voice so it can carry me to the field beyond these hills where they’ll bury me. And if I don’t arrive, they’ll assume I’m still alive, and they’ll curse me for behaving so contrarily.

And the goiter in my throat will make it hard for me to cope. And I’d hang it up, but it would break right through the rope.

Daily Hey Magic Number: 96

Don’t read my mind

Don’t read my mind. If it makes you feel better, I can tell you what I’m thinking.

Don’t read my mind. But it’s not like I’m nervous; you’re no telepath, it’s true.

And if you read my mind, you’ll find I’m finely guarded ? I’ve reinforced my skull with an alarming peace of mind.

Try to read my mind. You’ll try, but my defenses will hamper your best efforts and will render them unfruitful.

And if you read my mind (and read this to imply: for one to read my mind, one must really, really try) ?

If you read my mind, well, I’m afraid you’ll find ? you’ll find I’m not afraid, not afraid you’ll read my mind.

You’ll try ? try, try again, but you won’t break through, I won’t let you see where my thoughts have been.

Read my mind if you intend, the results won’t satisfy you, you will have to try again.

Don’t read my mind. No.

Don’t read my mind.

Daily Hey Magic Number: 97

Bills on the liquor table

There’s bills on the liquor table, lord, lord.
There’s bills on the liquor table, lord.
Got bills, got booze, got piles, got stuff.
Got pains, got chores, got trash, got tough.

There’s bills on the liquor table, lord, lord.
There’s bills on the liquor table, lord.
Got angry meats and sharpened treats.
Got a coffee table with hairy feet.
Got shaky thighs and violent eyes.
Got wakefulness despite brightening skies.
Got a saddened couch with a weary back.
Got a screw, got a bolt, got a nail, got a nut, got a tack.

Hey hey!

It’s May / Okay / Hooray! / I say / Hey hey / It’s May / Papier / Mache / Let’s play / Hey hey / It’s May / Portray / Fay Wray / One day / I’ll say / Hey hey / It’s May / I’m gay / J/K! / Nay nay / This way / Sensei / Okay / Hey hey / It’s May / I pay / For play / BOO-TAY! / BOO-TAY! / BOO-TAY! / BOO-TAY!

Juvenilia

Long ago in south Peru
There was a man who liked to poo,
And so he’d eat and eat and poo
And drink and eat and pee and poo.
One day, this man he saw a log
And in its hollow was a frog
And so the man thought “My O Me!
A lovely log this frog would be!”
And so the man who liked to poo
Took home the frog and made some stew
And though he tried to cook it through
It still was very hard to chew
So he had milk to wash it down
And went to meet his girl in town.
She said, “You don’t look so good.”
And he said, “Do you think I should?”
And she said, “Well, I’d think you could.
If not for me, you never would.”
Then he felt pain between his hips
And then a smile across his lips
And said, “I’m glad that I’m your man.
Excuse me while I hit the can,”
And went there in a happy way
‘Cause it’s his favorite time of day
And so he sat and had a dump
And heard a noise that made him jump
And it was like a little swish.
He looked down and saw little fish!
Then thought, “Not fish, but poliwogs.
I’ve given birth to baby frogs!”
And so he ran to get his girl
And had her bring along her squirrel
And showed the tadpoles to them both.
They all agreed that they were loath
To flush them down the toilet bowl,
For even tadpoles have a soul,
So then he caught them with a net
And dried them off ’cause they were wet
And put them in a bassinet
And said, “You’re Chuck, and you are Chet.”
And so, the man he wed the girl
(The maid of honor was the squirrel)
And raised the tadpoles as his sons.
And now he only gets the runs.