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Hipster Hell
On the day I died, St. Peter stood before me
I could see my reflection in his 80′s cop glasses,
his beard artfully unkempt, spilling over his fannel shirt.
The light of the Lord glinted off the chrome of his BMX bike.
He said ‘Heaven is no longer where it’s at. It went out with Michael Landon.
You’re going to Hipster Hell.”
And we travelled to dive bar off a side street of a city you’ve never heard of, just being gentrified
Where the only light came from the Schlitz neon signs and the oh-so-retro pinball machines
And he said “Welcome to Hipster Hell,
You may already be in it.
Welcome to Hipster Hell,
it’ll be gone in a minute.”
In Hipster Hell, all the jeans are acid washed
worn low like gunslingers belts, revealing ironic ass crack
lighting up the night.
And every girl’s a burlesque dancer in Hipster Hell,
but no one gets their tits out.
And every guy plays a ukelele in Hipster Hell
badly,
And it sounds like the end of an era.
I ate five cupcakes in Hipster Hell,
because the fat lady with pink hair and a dragon tattoo doesn’t serve them in even numbers,
and I watched the beards grow on men with short shorts
and played some kickball, but not well,
and drank cheap, non-commerical beer.
We watched 3-D movies, without the glasses,
and then said how much better they were.
Everybody applauded when I said something,
and then moved on as though nothing had happened.
Cause in Hipster Hell, it never does.
My iPhone fell in the toilet and broke
now I can’t use the ‘A’ key. That just makes it cooler.
In Hipster Hell, every band has a keyboard
Every keyboard has a sticker
and every sticker’s artfully torn.
We ogled graffiti in Hipster Hell,
Is that a Banksy? Quite probably.
Everything means something to someone in Hipster Hell.
I went to a hand-craft fair and bought a tea towel,
a hipster tea towel, that said ‘Tea’, so you know what it’s for.
In Hipster Hell, I saw a play,
it was political, and not very good,
but then everyone said how good it was,
so I changed my mind.
Everyone’s a spoken word poet in Hipster Hell
and they’re trying something new tonight
that you’ve never heard of,
it’s about third-world countries
and how the man is keeping us down
And no one does drugs in Hipster Hell,
Cause it’s cooler not to.
And the party doesn’t stop
And the glasses never come off
And the artfully tied Afghan scarves choke the men with the pointy shoes
Whose hair looks like a chickens
And everybody sounds like they’ve smoked to much
And everybody sounds like their from the East End
And everybody tries so hard to be perfectly unkempt
In Hipster Hell.
They had a barbeque, but the Quorn didn’t hold up
Bits of it slipped through the grill
And caught fire.
They had a Halloween party
Where everyone came as their favorite childhood TV show
That they’d never seen.
Look, there’s Wonder Woman
Look, there’s Sailor Moon
It was crazy, man, crazy, there in Hipster Hell.
Anime, Japanime, Hip-hop fusion urban fun,
twenty-four seven, direct to your doorstep
In Hipster Hell they don’t speak, except through Facebook,
except the cool ones, who are back on MySpace.
Shit just got real, yo, in Hipster Hell.
The irony became a part of me and I played my ukelele and sang my song,
dropped some rhymes, did ironic lines,
Till the time came when I couldn’t take it anymore.
And I said ‘St. Peter, take me somewhere earnest.’
And he said ‘You had it, but you lost it. It’s the price you paid for entry.
And every headband wearing afroed boy here’s a sentry,
And you’re never going back again.’
So i had another cupcake and ennui, and stared, confounded,
at the death of me.
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Trollin’ Dirty: Guest Poemit Derrick Paulson
Derrick sent this in to me, and I think it’s pretty sweet. It’s about Dungeons and Dragons, goblins, and a distinct lack of coffee. Enjoy!
by Derrick Paulson
“There are at least five goblins standing still,”
Our DM tells us from behind his screen,
“Yet more keep coming down from up the hill.”
We hack and slash in turn and drink our fill
Of blood; but, when the dust clears on the scene
There are at least five goblins standing still!
The wizard walks unarmed to show his skill,
With gestures grand and continence serene,
Yet more keep coming down from up the hill.
His magic missiles seem supreme until
The cleric summons all his gods to scream:
“There are at least five goblins standing still!”
We cast our die again and curse our ill
Luck that has left us few and far between,
Yet more keep coming down from up the hill.
With might and fury now we fight and kill,
But our DM, when cranky, needs caffeine:
“There are at least five goblins standing still,
Yet more keep coming down from up the hill.”
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Filed under Uncategorized
Why writing dirty poems about Smurfette counts! Or how you found me.
He’s Coming to Stop the Gays, The Pope!
A rousing sea chanty to welcome the Pope ironically, that you can sing along with your friends!
Directions:
1)Divide the room in half. Have one side yell the ‘”He’s coming to stop the gays!” part, and the other side yell “the Pope” on cue.
2)Find one person who’s really loud, to yell the ‘Gays’ section after the second chorus.
3)Get people banging on tables and stomping on the floor.
4)Remind everyone that this is meant ironically, and not an audition for the BNP!
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s a little old man in a big white hat,
And I think he doesn’t really know where he’s at
He hates the gays and that is that
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s a crazy old man in a big white dress,
And I hear that he used to be in the SS,
He just can’t get into that bad gay ass sex
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
Who? (Gays!)
Who? (Gays!)
WHHHHOOOO???? (GGGAAAAYYYYSSSS!)
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s coming to stop the gays, Gays!
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s coming to stop the gays, Gays!
He’s come all the way from the Vatican
To remind us that those queers are living in sin
And equalities great, but it isn’t for him
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s coming to stop the gays, Gays!
He’s coming to stop the gays, the Pope
He’s coming to stop the gays, Gays!
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Filed under Uncategorized
This is Ikea
This is Ikea.
This is Ikea. We’re calling to let you know that your couch is ready to be delivered. We cannot tell you when for sure, but it will definitely be at some point in the next three days around 2p.m.-5p.m., give or take a few hours.
This is Ikea. We’re sorry, but your couch is not yet ready to be delivered yet. Ignore that message you heard yesterday. Somebody was wrong, however, we are not to blame. You should have your couch at some point in the next three weeks. We’ll call again. We promise.
This is Ikea. There have been further delays with the processing of your couch. Before you get assy, WE DON’T CONTROL VOLCAONOS. Right?
This is Ikea. We take it because you haven’t called, you still want your original couch. It’s going to be a while, okay? In the meantime, you might try purchasing a chair, or futon, or sitting on the coffee table, or maybe cross-legged on the floor. We hear that can be nice.
This is Ikea. We don’t really understand why you’re still holding out for your couch. We’ve sent a man over during the weekend you said you were away, and it doesn’t even match your living room. Retro-country cottage chique completely clashes with our sleek Swedish design motif. You’re a fucking moron. But by all means, keep waiting.
This is Ikea. Look, we’re sorry about calling you a moron. Give us a call. Let’s talk about your couch.
This is Ikea. Are you sitting down? Of course not, you don’t have a couch. Check this out—remember the couch you ordered from us last year? They finally found a guy who’s willing to make it. He said he would have done it before, but it’s a piece of shit. We did have to pay him some more. Your balance will be amended.
This is Ikea. Goddamn it, call me back. I can’t live with this silence on your end. It’s like you’re not even there. I don’t even want you to pay for the couch. Just take it. Fucking take it like you took everything else.
This is Ikea. I’m worried about you. I saw the burns on your old couch when I was going through your dumpster. Are you on drugs again? Please call. If not our customer service center, at least the Samiritans. You need help.
This is Ikea. Was that a fucking Argos van outside your house yesterday? You need to call.
This is Ikea. I’m calling from a mobile phone outside your house with a can of gasoline and a brand new disposable lighter. You need to call now.
This is Ikea. BOOM!
This is Ikea. We hear you may be in the market for some furntiture for your new house. Please contact our customer service center for a 20%-off customer loyalty coupon. Have a nice day.
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Filed under Poemetry
Excerpts from Super Mario’s Twitter Feed
Hello Everybody! It’s-ah me, Mario!! I just-ah got a new IPhone! Tweet tweet.–about an hour ago from Twitterific
Oh-ah-no! Someone has-ah stolen the Princess. As a plumber, I feel fully qualified to rescue her! –50 minutes ago
Hey Look-ah, I’mma breaking the bricks. With-ah my head! –42 minutes ago
Gold-ah coins! Woo-hoo! –From Twitterific
You ever get the feeling you’re-ah looking at the same three clouds, scrolling back and forth, over and over and over again? –40 minutes ago
The princess is in another castle! Oh-ah-no! –37 minutes ago
Oooo! I ate-ah the mushroom, and now I’m a bigger! –About 35 minutes ago
Ooooh I touched a turtle, and now I’mma smaller! –About 34 minutes ago
When I jump-ah onto the flagpole, fireworks shoot up, like they’re coming out of my ass! #fireworksoutofmyass.
A plumber and a princess, just thank-ah of the sex! –About 20 minutes ago
Ouch, I’mma dead! From Twitterific
@mario Suck it. Love, Bowser from the web
The Princess is in another castle! Jesus Christ!!
I have acquired the tail of a racoon, which allows me to fly! Woo hoo! Maybe I should lay off the Mushrooms. –from Twitterific
Don’t-ah look now, but the turtles have grown wings. WTF?? LOL?!? –from the web
Oh-ah Look, it’s my brother Luigi! Just-a in time!
@Luigi You fuck. That was supposed to be my firey balls flower!
#Haiti — Please-ah donate to the poor people of Haiti. I would-ah, but I’m being chased by a giant bullet with wings. Oh-ah-no!
The Princess is in another castle. Fucking-ah bitch.
#FF @Princess, @Yoshi, @Donkey Kong, @Little Toadstool Guy
Game Over? This is my life we’re talking about!! Continue!! Continue!!! –About 10 minutes ago
@Player That’s better. –About 9 minutes ago
Sick of fucking gold coins now. –About 8 minutes ago
Going down a sewer to a water world. Not sure my IPhone will get reception here. –About 8 minutes ago
Woop woop woop woop –7 minutes ago from Twitterific
Yup. Iphones are for assholes! –5 minutes ago from web
Taken star-shaped pills that made me feel invincible? #Ivedonethat2 –4 minutes ago
@Princess Where R U? –3 minutes ago
@mario I’m in another castle –2 minutes ago
@Princess Whore. –1 minute ago
Filed under Poemetry


