FOR INSTAGRAM (iPHONE APP OF THE YEAR)

I make up silly applications

For folks who want to use their phone

To satisfy their aspirations

Their lives won’t evanesce, unknown.

You see them with these iPhone features

That makes them out as social creatures:

They tell you when they want a nap,

Or when they have to take a crap.

And then you see it as a posting

On Twitter, Tumblr, or Facebook,

Their very private public nook.

I’d rather this not sound like boasting,

But they, for certain, made me rich

By helping show them scratch an itch.    

IN PRAISE OF SELF-DECEPTION

I’d rather not fight self-deception.

Since it's extremely useful for

Defending what my sense perception

Tells me won’t happen anymore:

Like fooling with a female hottie

Whom now I download for a body.       

No longer young, I’d not assuage

The fact that I can’t act my age.

I’m like the dreamer, Walter Mitty;                                     

And like him I prefer my dream

To liven me with self-esteem,

Like having sex and being witty.

And so I’ll go with self-deceit,          

If I must beat a fast retreat.

THE HACKER AND THE SIRENS

1

A hacker, knowing his computers,

Was so absorbed downloading porn,

Especially those with girls whose hooters

Were double Ds and native born,

He didn’t notice when these sirens

Invaded his mind/brain’s environs

Until he felt a silky mouth

Begin to suck him off down south!

He knew that this must be a virus;      

But where the devil was it from

He asked himself in clouds of cum?

The sirens said, “You may acquire us

And live with us in paradise

By joining us in this device.”

2

He knew somehow (by intuition?)

That what the women said was true:

The virus granted him admission

Into a world he’d not eschew. 

Gone would be days when all his wanking

Would be performed by his hand-cranking

His penis. And the very best

Would be to feel each lovely breast.

But knowing virtual reality         

Was like an image in a mirror:     

You moved away, you’d disappear;  

And so his individuality                    

Would live somewhere in cyberspace.

But who could fight a porn star’s grace?

3

But still the hacker hesitated,

Afraid forever he’d be lost;

Though he’d escape what he most hated:

A world where everyone was bossed.

It so offended his mentality,

That bossing helped define reality,

He stopped and thought what he might do

To reconstruct the world anew.

Not giving up for lack of trying,   

He thought the world could go to hell.

(It was a place it would know well.)

And so he joined them, occupying

A special site in cyberspace

Was free for work he could embrace.

WHY I LOVE THE BIBLE

We praise a God Who’s homicidal

Against those who oppose commands

(That some might think are genocidal)

By doing as our Lord commands:

Like giving over to His slaughter

Who wouldn’t rape a heathen’s daughter;

Or giving up, for His bloodshed,

A man who’d share a marriage bed

With other men. We’d gladly torture

All people who won’t praise our God

By giving them a cattle prod,

That’s heated up till it’s a scorcher,

And plunging it in their behinds.

The Bible simply blows our minds.

A METAPHOR FOR REPUBLICAN POLICY

I went outside and was astounded

Encircled by a mist so thick

That suddenly I was confounded

When from behind I felt a prick.

I reached behind and grabbed the boner

And told him I could use a loaner;

Then stuck it in my pussy’s grot

Where right away it hit the spot.

The feeling then was so delightful

I thought that I might lose my mind

Until it moved to my behind.

I thought, if he’d been more insightful,

He would have known the GOP’s

Pols fucked me there with STDs.

PROSTITUTES FOR NEWT

In 66, I was a hippie

Did drugs, danced nude, and fought the war;

Then settled down to be a chippy

And started working as a whore.

I got the men to do my bidding

By helping me, although unwitting,

To rid them of their prudish ids

By drugs then do what Katie bids.

And then computers were invented

And with it business went forlorn,

Since these machines promoted porn.

So gave up whoring and repented.

And now I am a person who

Pied pipes for Newt, my, “Honey, do . . .”

I'M NEWT GINGRICH AND I APPROVED THIS AD

THE OLD MAN AND THE DEMON

1

The old man was a junk collector.

It’s what he did when he retired.

Until he came across a specter

That gave you anything desired.

It rose from out an ancient vessel

And challenged him. If he’d arm wrestle,

And won two out of three, It would

Give unto him fulfilled manhood.

The old man though refused the bargain

But wrestled with It anyway

And won. “You’ll live another day,”

The demon said. “My name is Gargan.

Why won’t you have your wish fulfilled?”

The old man said, “Then I’d be killed.

2

“Unless, of course, you’re more specific

On what it means to be fulfilled.”

“You’ve got me. It would be horrific.

And certainly you'd have been killed.

Now since you saw through my deception,

I’m forced to honor your conception

Of anything you wish for now

And grant it as my sacred vow.”

The old man had an ugly daughter

Who lived with him. (His wife was dead.)

And so he took it in his head

To have her cured. And, having brought her,

He asked the jinn to make her fair

And live a life without a care.

3

The demon did as he requested

But not before It asked him if

He really wanted her divested

Of how she looked? “Why in a jiff,”

The old man said. “Then she can marry

And live a life that’s customary.”

The demon honored his request

And made a girl delight caressed.

But suddenly the old man’s feeling

Was disappearing with his breath

And he was certain of his death.

Disgusted at the dirty dealing,

He asked It, "Why?"  "I made her fair

And took away her only care.”