I hate poems. I find them pompous, flowery, dripping with emotion, and utterly unreadable. That’s why I find it strange that I’ve written about four poems in my life (I don’t count the haikus I’ve written, haiku is the far east equivalent of a limerick, yeah that’s right Asians, I said it!) Here is one I wrote on a whim when I was at my desk in 1996. I immediately sent it to Natalai, a former co-worker chick I liked. That’s the only reason I still have it to this day. The poem is as follows:

Playing games with my religion. . .
my concept of God and Truth
Peace is my greeting, but they say
that we sanction violence
I disagree and gently with words I prod them to see
my Vision, my understanding
of God
And if, after my eloquent, intellectual elucidation
they yet disagree
I will strap on a city block’s worth of explosives
and blast them to Kingdom Come

Thank you vurry much!

Other poems I’ve previously posted

5 Responses to “Poetry”

  1. Citizen Quasar says:

    I stand upon a hill and gaze about this place.
    I have what people want. I have the key.
    People come seeking me by name and face.
    They are searching for truth
    So I give them a piece of the key.

    Time goes by through summer, wind, snow, and rain.
    After a while, too much of the key gets out.
    From now on there are maniacs about.

  2. R says:

    Wow. Why don’t you pussies cry more? Seriously.

  3. mexi says:

    See, that’s why I don’t like poetry right there. You can’t hustle poetry in a bar for beer money. If anything you get slapped with an open hand.

  4. anonymous says:

    there’s no fu*&ing tube!
    i can’t beleive i’ve been duped!
    ooooh that fu*&ing cunt.

  5. mexi says:

    Oooooh, late. That reminds me of Yolanda Jackson’s 11 month pregnancy. Math wasn’t her strong suit, or knowing when she got pregnant either.

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