Posts tagged with "(Woman Hater)"
Friday, 7. December 2007, 03:08:47
Poetry, (Woman Hater)
Break this heart
Do your best to kill the rest
I hate you
I hate you
Break this man
Take the time to draw the line
Drown the dream
Drown the dream
Break the bond
Play the game and place the blame
You lie well
You lie well
Break your soul
Live a life of constant strife
You've lost now
You've lost now
Friday, 16. November 2007, 14:24:53
Poetry, (Woman Hater)
Funny how you make me miserable
and don't even know it.
Strange how I love you
and can't even show it.
I wish I were dead
but then I don’t
I wish I could tell you
but you know I won’t.
A self-absorbed whining little brat
never had anything on me
I excel in the temporary loss
of temporary sanity
I should be writing real
instead of this kind of crap
I should be something other
than a chronic mishap,
looking for love where it can't be found
Swimming free but running aground.
Saturday, 10. November 2007, 14:56:32
Poetry, (Woman Hater)
(Moon enters the blog the very epitome of despair and woe. Suicide counselors in the audience get up and leave, alarmed by the impending challenge to their expertise.)
Oh, cruel and loveless, heartless fate!
Oh, Lords of Laugh who congregate
To revel in the Moon’s despair
What have I done to send you there?
To plan and joke at Love’s expense
And rob the heart its recompense?
What foul and rancid reason, I say
Exists to darken my every day?
(Here our Hero Moon briefly considers clawing out his eyeballs. But since that Greek feller already did it and got tagged with having nasty thoughts about his momma, the gesture would certainly be meaningless as well as painful.)
Hopeful at last this day but one
By the babe new to the complex
I made my approach
I was beyond reproach!
But something was out of context.
(Yeah, I’ll say. Keep reading.)
The day wore on
We were having fun
She cooed at my every line.
I was in my element
And feeling very fine.
The music was soft
The wine was smooth
The Trojans were my pocket
And when she moaned
“Oh, Moon, please do”
I rose like a bottle rocket.
(So far, so good. But, Oh, Ye Spiteful Gods! Begone!)
She was moaning and groaning
And thrashing about
When to my horror I found out
This total babe with eyes of the sea
Had a wanger bigger than me!!
(Auuuugh! Diamond Skipping Across Vinyl.)
Oh, no! Oh, no!
Say it ain’t so!
Tell me that’s not a willy!
And don’t start to cry
Or I’ll swear you’ll die
Cause I’m feeling awful silly!
(Moon returns to his condo, dejected, unloved and unlaid.)
I have given up
And not just tonight!
Tomorrow I’m getting that dynamite
There is no Love
Women have no remorse
Especially those hung like a horse.
Exits a despondent, Blue Moon.
Friday, 9. November 2007, 17:46:12
Poetry, (Woman Hater)
Everything I thought I believed
is explained away on T.V.
It seems that all the hell I am
Is a Determinists’ potpourri.
Now my woman loves the doctor
Who improved her close-up vision,
and she decided I was ugly as sin -
exposing me to public derision.
She’s got my heart and he my plastic
This misery’s gotta end soon
Cause I’m not feeling so fantastic –
I’m not the usual Moon.
I couldn’t get it up with a forklift –
And to hell with 'Viva Viagra!' –
I’m just too despondent to try
Anything
But a jump off Niagara.
(And I’d have to touch Yankee soil even to do that!)
So I think I’m gonna kill myself
Can’t live under a pretext
I’m gonna get some hundred proof dynamite
And expose my cerebral cortex.
I’m gonna get some invitations –
Send them C.O.D. –
And let all my lovers be around
To see the end of me.
I hate love
And I hate lovers.
All women are worthless -
Even the mothers.
So I’m giving up
And departing with a blast.
I’ve no hope of a future
With so many skeletons in my past.
Uh, oh. What’s this I see?
It's a brand new babe moving in
Next to me!
Y’all forget this poem, please.
I ain’t really a woman hater.
Go visit some of Artman’s work
And I’ll get back to you later.
Exeunt: Departs whistling 'Viva Viagra' and wearing fresh smellgood.
Saturday, 22. April 2006, 07:19:56
Poetry, (Woman Hater)
I got elevated sugar.
My girlfriend's into pain.
The Taxman took my outhouse.
And my dog's done gone insane.
He bit the preacher Sunday
(A prophet full of sass.)
He growled, I screamed 'Oh, Jesus!'
then he bit him on the ass.
And now I'm rejected.
I can't go back to church no more.
They said the Lord don't love me,
then they called my girl a whore.
I got myself a new job
cleaning crap from cockoo clocks
The preacher was hockin' diamonds
stole from widows round the blocks
I slipped and broke his Rolex
He had a righteous fit
He said Jesus hates me
I said I really don't give a shit.
Because now I'm rejected.
I can't go back to church no more.
The deacons all think I'm crazy
They won't let me through the door.
My girlfriend said she's pregnant
Damn near two months over due.
The doctor said I'm shooting blanks
I said what else is new.
She said the daddy's a midget
at the cross town county fair.
He had a tiny wick but a great big stick
and he used it over there.
And now I'm rejected.
I can't get no lovin' now.
My girl ran off with Pint Size.
But I'll make it through somehow.
I went down to the free clinic
to see a psychiatist there
He said what can I do for you, son
I said I don't really care
If I lived or died or laughed or cried
It made no diff to me.
He said it's clear, you get out of here
You've lost your sanity.
And now I'm rejected.
The Lord don't really care.
I'll wander over the planet
and I'll find myself somewhere.
Friday, 21. April 2006, 10:11:00
Poetry, (Woman Hater)
I met a pretty woman
and fell in love
I thanked the 900 number
and God above.
Said she'd be my bride
I would be her man
if I could prove myself
and join the Ku Klux Klan.
(Oh no. There's always a price.)
I purchased discount sheets
and burnt a cross
Set myself on fire,
all my hair I lost.
I chanted racist slurs -
Not as vile as her's -
Bought a hangman's rope
and learned to smoke some dope.
She wore a beige thong
made of dental floss
She had great big titties
and a Nazi cross.
She told me “oh, baby,
I'll never leave you,”
and she proved her love
with a Moon tattoo.
(Like a lamb to the slaughter.)
Down at the lynchin' one Saturday night
I got so love-struck nervous
I hanged Miss White
The crowd yelled “Traitor!
What's wrong with you?
You done kilt your girl's momma
Not yonder Jew!”
(Uh, oh.)
Now my girl's in 'Bama
with Special Ed Jed.
And I'm in Angola on a metal bed
doing 10 to life to mourn my loss
but I never go near prison dental floss.
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