deep thoughts, feelings, humans, life, poem, poetry, Uncategorized

I Want to see a Tiger

I want to be thrown out of a plane,

land painfully on my ass

in the middle of the jungle

and hear a grr reverberate off the trees,

see the Cobras look worried-

and stare the beast straight in the face.

 

I want to run through the woods,

ask a silverback gorilla for directions-

and try not to leave a trackable trail of urine.

 

I want to have to remember how to breathe,

try to hyperventilate quietly

and hope that it’s not lurking out there.

 

I want to not sleep for days,

get eaten by bugs,

and sneak away when it goes to take a piss.

 

I want to follow the river to the closest village-

that hopefully has wifi,

call my family,

tell them that the jungle is great,

 

and spend all my money on a plane ticket home.

I want to sit on a plane,

just stare at the clouds and laugh-

then drink myself to sleep.

 

I want to come off the plane,

to arms,

and then just look their owners in the eye and say

“I have seen some shit.”

I want to lay in my bed,

look up at the ceiling,

and think,

nothing exciting ever happens anymore.

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deep thoughts, divine, feelings, humans, life, Life Advice, poem, poetry, Uncategorized

Feelings

Feelings hurt.

Everything hurts.

Not having them

is worse.

No one wants to

be a path,

no one is down

with that.

Which is why

life is crap.

Let’s all be ferrymen

by rivers.

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deep thoughts, feelings, humans, life, poem, poetry, Uncategorized

What Happened to my Racial Heritage?

Where did my rich, cultural traditions run off to?

I think that somebody lost them.

The Cha Cha slide is not a rain dance.

 

My people could go back to their savage roots, by going shopping on Black Friday,

or go camping and pretend to be poor.

My people do not like pretending to be poor.

My people are known for their chain stores and corporations.

My people didn’t create the compass or fireworks,

my people created Mickey Mouse.

 

My people, maybe they were savage once.

My people used to paint themselves and streak naked into battle-

then they were all conquered or killed,

so they started wearing clothing.

 

What happened to my racial heritage, where did it go?

It got lost somewhere.

 

While my people were conquering the Americas and converting the Inca,

they lost themselves.

 

My people do not sing in gospel choirs-

my people play Free Bird.

 

My people used to raid villages,

and sail the seas as far as the Middle East!

Then they met a nice local girl, got a real job,

settled down and had some kids.

 

My people do not build houses in the desert rock-

they build suburbs.

 

My people think that culture is really interesting.

My people split the world in half-

for themselves.

 

My people do not hunt on the Great Plains.

My people work safely behind a desk.

They have nothing to complain about,

only when they drink too much and it’s Monday.

 

My people,

what are my people?

What happened to my racial heritage,

where did it go?

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deep thoughts, feelings, MBTI, Myers Briggs, poem, poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized

The INTJ Female Intergalactic Anthem

All rise for the INTJ Female Intergalactic Anthem…

 

I’m not girly-

And I hate pink.

Had a feeling once,

I think.

Know what they say,

Don’t really care-

Because when I look down there…

Wouldn’t it be awfully nice if I had a penis?

 

I’ve got so much yang

I could get the hang

Of having a wang,

Which is a synonym for penis.

 

Wouldn’t be whining

Because I’m losing

My uterine lining,

Be a ditz

Because I have tits.

Wouldn’t act like Madame Bovary

Because I had no ovaries

Is it so wrong

To want a dong,

If it is I’ll write a song-

And kindly ask for a penis.

 

If I had testes

I would be at ease,

Could do whatever I please.

Could throw a perfect spiral

Without it being wild,

Boss people around

Without being a female hound,

If I had a penis.

 

Oh, and the balls!

I’d put them to the wall,

And I’d have the biggest balls of all-

It’s my greatest wish

To have a brisk-

For which I’d need a penis.

 

And wouldn’t it be funny,

I’d make more money.

Wouldn’t need an epidural

Because gurrl…

Sperm goes jizz and skeet-

Doesn’t give birth,

Isn’t that neat?

And if I couldn’t have a baby

Then maybe

I’d tell my friends

About my doctor in Regina

Who heard

I was tired of having a vagina,

That is if I had a penis.

 

(Obligatory Rap Section)

Wouldn’t be work

To have girth

Would be a vacation

Give myself a standing ovation

No matter what people say

Or do

Because it’s true

I’m more manly

Than any of you.

Getting shit done,

Taking care of business

It’s the truth, isn’t?

Not anyone’s hon,

Enen though I’m a lady

Who just maybe

Thinks that gender stereotypes

Bite

And because I’m a girl

Who acts like a man

In a man’s world

It would be easy,

Although it would make Republican queasy

If I just had sperm

Because in layman’s terms

Some might call me a tranny

But who doesn’t have to worry about

The size of his fanny?

(End Obligatory Rap Section)

 

Gender stereotypes are real,

Hits me right in the feels,

It hurts a lot-

Especially in my crotch

That could really use a penis.

 

So if you have a spare dick,

Or two or three,

Could I have my pick please?

Because a penis would look good on me!!!!!

 

*The writer of this song would like to acknowledge that this is a joke, parody. Gender stereotypes are very real. It is sad and unfair…f*** it you’re probably offended anyway.

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deep thoughts, feelings, humans, love, Uncategorized

Trials

I could walk through,

some of

the fires of Hell,

cross oceans,

fight a tornado-

or at least some angry drunk person,

be forced to live in an Iron Maiden,

be burned alive, struck by lightning!

Have to deal with Google Adwords Customer Service,

tame a unicorn,

teach a cat to fetch,

listen to Gilbert Godfried sing “My Heart Will Go On”,

and other worse things.

 

Or, or-

hear me out.

I walk up to you,

and just ask you whether or not,

or would be interested in, my (meow).

You narcissistic bastard.

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deep thoughts, poem, poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized

Subtlety

Good serial killers don’t show you

1,000 pictures of kids,

talk about politics on Facebook,

aren’t braggadocious,

and clean up after themselves.

Don’t go on and on about themselves,

are great listeners,

care about details,

don’t overstay their welcome,

don’t impose-

while still keeping you on your toes,

invite themselves in get straight to the point,

then just go.

Leave you alone.

How is that a bad thing?

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