Jocks

While lovely Eileen entertained us all,
with her wonderful words of lace and satin,
it made me want to answer the call,
make guys proud, like General Patton

the guys wear jocks to cloister their tools,
the perfect size so hard to find,
need to protect those precious jewels,
from errant kicks and grabs from behind

most are just elastic and cotton,
some are furry you get from **** shops,
absorb the sweat they smell quite rotten,
pick up with 1 finger or handles of mops

the backs are weird like gives you ******,
when grabbed by the band and yanked real hard,
guys in gym like to snap like frozen veggie,
then try to get you on their dance card

cause now you can sing those real high notes,
your face quite large like you have the mumps,
squeal like girlie man being attacked by goats,
don't bend over you expose those rumps    

but it is important to protect your package,
keep is safe for your favorite gal,
not real good to have swollen sackage,
not even if choice is a guy named Hal

Gomer LePoet...

I've seen the face of evil
It tried to stare me down
It expected me to run
But instead I stood my ground

Its eyes were bloodshot red
Like a ****** high on ****
Its teeth were in a glass
It tried to gum me half to death

Its nose was like a cactus root
Twenty times compounded
I've never seen a cactus root
I just like the way it sounded

A **** stood high upon its back
That looked like a wayward camel
Covered in hair from head to toe
It just had to be a mammal

Horns fastened atop its head
It had such a horrible growl
Each time it did, it would drool a bit
So I gave it a paper towel

I'm telling you this thing was evil
I think it wanted my soul
I finally tried to run away
But the thing wouldn't let me go

It grabbed a hold of my belt loop
And I was pulling with all my might
I think it gave me a ******
Cause my underwear was gettin' tight

The beast was trying to **** me
Then someone turned on the light
If you think it was mother-in-law
Then, once again, you're right

I am a series of problems,  you see.

I am that annoying song stuck in your head, the reason you can't get to sleep. I am the creepy girl in some horror movie that you swear you keep seeing around town, and the notification you got a little too late. I'm the embarrassing email you just sent, the one simple word you misspelled on an otherwise perfect paper, I am the stain you didn't know you had on the shirt you got two weeks ago. I am your work that nobody else seems to appreciate, and I am the voice in your head telling you that you are not good enough. I'm the grammar problem spell checks don't pick up on, I am the big piece of cake you promised yourself you wouldn't eat, but ate anyway. I am the ****** you won't pick in public and the moment your favorite cousin opens the birthday present you got her just to be very disappointed at what's inside. I am the thunder your dog is afraid of, the bikini you're too insecure to wear, the frizz of frizzy hair, I am the pair of jeans you had when you were younger that you wish your mom never gave away. I am your lost pair of favorite socks, a cavity, a weight gain.

I am your disaster, aren't I?

Why is life such a a meanie such a bully
There's no controlling it, it's so unruly
Some times it only gives me a ******, other times it knocks me to my knees
It just does what it please
But lately it's been knocking me out
What the **** is that all about
Life sure does need to stop this plight
That it has against my right
To be happy now and then
So I can at lest offer the world a grin
But I still have a furrowed brow
I wear the same old scowl
Because my life is such a bully
It's become so ******* unruly

“Ladies and gentlemen,” his voice reverberates throughout the ballroom, “this last one is a personal favorite.”

As the music cues up, the young couple pulls away from the loud speakers and blinding stage lights, theirs bodies swaying from side to side as they dance slowly on the outskirts of the crowd.  They look deeply into each other’s eyes as the young girl wraps her arms around his neck to draw him nearer.  She sings along with Berlin softly into his ear,

“Watching I keep waiting still anticipating love
Never hesitating to become the fated ones
Turning and returning to some secret place to hide
Watching in slow motion as you turn to me and say

“Take my breath away...”

She draws back and smiles, “I love you, Chad Stoper.”  He says nothing, and she leans in for a kiss, pressing her lips against his.  Unresponsive to the warmth of her mouth, his lips are cold and flat.  Pulling back, she gazes upon his faded complexion.  

Frozen in time, his 4x6 glass prison is smeared by years of her kisses.  A sigh escapes her lips as she gently sets Chad back onto her nightstand next to the jagged stack of romance novels.  Quickly crossing the room, she presses rewind on her beloved “Prom 1987” mixed tape so that her ritual can begin without hesitation at 10:00PM again tomorrow.

She sneaks one last glance at Chad and giggles, “Oh, Chad – Stop it!  You shouldn’t stare at me like that.”  Red floods her cheeks as she bends over to pick up her watering can.  The smell of the stagnant water goes unnoticed, and she proceeds to water each of the plastic flower arrangements on her windowsill, a giggle escaping her lips with each miniscule tilt of the watering can.  “Oh, my babies… you’re growing so quickly!”  She bends forward to press her nose into the dust-covered petals, “And you even smell more mature.   I’m such a proud mommy!”

Her stomach suddenly growls, and she immediately sets down the watering can, sloshing water onto the stained carpet.  In moments, she has reached the refrigerator and reaches in to grab the last remaining hotdog out of its slimy package.  Leaning back against the kitchen sink, she knocks over the pile of mold-encrusted plates as her large arm reaches past to grab the can of spray cheese sitting on the counter.  

In a moment of ecstasy, she tilts back her head and empties the can of synthetic cheese into her mouth.  She foregoes swallowing, allowing the substance to encase her throat, another chin appearing as she opens her mouth even further to consume the cold, slimy intestine.  

Satisfied, she heads back to her bedroom, too focused on the aftertaste in her mouth to notice the cat litter accumulating on the bottom of her socks.  She glances at the romance novels sitting on her nightstand, the light reflecting off of the once-matte finish, now covered in a glossy mess of hotdog juice finger prints.  She pauses in a moment of consideration, looking from her novels to the ***** on the floor next to her bed.  

A yawn escapes her lips.

Tomorrow.  There’s always tomorrow.

She shuffles over to the bed, yanking out a ****** as she climbs on top of the covers.  

“Good night, Chad Stoper,” she looks one last time into his eyes, “I love you.”

Why is life such a a meanie such a bully
There's no controlling it, it's so unruly
Some times it only gives me a ******, other times it knocks me to my knees
It just does what it please
But lately it's been knocking me out
What the **** is that all about
Life sure does need to stop this plight
That it has against my right
To be happy now and then
So I can at lest offer the world a grin
But I still have a furrowed brow
I wear the same old scowl
Because my life is such a bully
It's become so ******* unruly

Sweet opus, sweeter hope
Anger in the same, of a friends stare?
Sent from here to eternity, a chastity's cope
Through the eyes of friendship, we know a care...

Sentiment of challenges, asked to contain
A laugh of days long austerity
The grace or the cramp of resolve, to maintain
A hopeful live and let it be known, the choice of a vanity

Sweet hope, sweeter opus
Set to livid forces, we sake a chance meeting
With advancing judgment, of a seemingly national cause
Set to living days, a blow of wind with time for a friend?

Prayers are said
Patience be a column of repose, livid even as tears stream
Plied eyes should, a careful need for what was lead
Persuasion of a courtesy, that has become a pet demon...

Pretty invaders, in particularity's cloth, seconds of dress
That are formal, that are fiendish?
To make no mistake about a hateful lip, heard in the God bless
Of the moment partaken, where a silent mention of a wish...

Is a brazen cough, of psyche and dismay...
Taken to reality; for a simpler have, and orchestration
How is a waiting hour, the only way to seek a smile from a stranger?
Answering the question, a priest indicates if hell to pay, is our destination...

Secrets of watches, of the teary night
None to lay, and become a knight of persuasion asking ways
Of a reason beyond silence, the order of dread to a wishful right
Right about now, a marriage has looked, and seen times bell mays

Power of the named
And the cursing of prowess, to understate the privilege
Will a careful lip understand the notion, of a particular shame?
Setting love before justice, is a reality of gestures for life, or a ******?

I'm the kind of person...
Who scratches their crotch in public
I reach up and dig a ****** out whenever
If I gotta pick my nose, ****** I pick it
I pick up the clump of hair in the shower with my bare hands
If the food is good, I inhale it
I eat with intent, with no regard for being tidy
I belch in public and think it's funny
Sometimes I forget to wash my hands after I ****
My shoes smell real bad
I haven't washed my sheets since I started college
I shower every three to four days
I'm the kind of person who talks to myself
I laugh at my own jokes
One day I'm wearing a petite feminine dress
And the next I'm wearing a men's button up with baggy cargo pants
My aesthetic switches from ***** hippy, emo punk, to vintage princess
My mood changes from suicidal numb girl
To thinking I can fix the entire planet in a day
I'm the kind of person who neglects to tell people when something they are doing is bothering me
I am a people pleaser
I space out and stare at nothingness
Sometimes I won't shut up
While other times I won't talk for the whole day
I want to try every single type of ethic food in existence
My music taste varies as much as my clothing style does
I wish I could be a doctor, farmer, astronaut, fire fighter, photographer, and homeless at the same time
Nothing bothers me more than feeling unintelligent
I bite my nails in front of people when I'm uncomfortable
I *** in swimming pools
I don't like the idea of traditional dates
I want to be able to talk about poops and farts on the first date
I become quiet when I'm really angry and I never address the real issue
I am all of these things and more
And for the most part, I like it
I like it in all of its *****, gross, ****** up, complicated, diverseness.
Today is a good day.

This is less a poem
And more an observation
But
Whoever decided to call it a "******"
Deserves a standing ovation