Tag Archives: poem


Day 3

Today is like a cigarette,

Warm and nice, with fluffy clouds like little puffs of cigarette smoke.

The birds chirp like cigarettes, only they’re not on fire.

You call me upstairs, like a cigarette, to show me some work you’ve done–

sadly it’s work that doesn’t cause cancer or increase my metabolism, but jewellery to put on ladies.  I don’t respond correctly,

You yell at me for that, but

Like a cigarette, I’m unimpressed, my filter sucking out the most harmful of your words,

the rest tar and nicotine exhaled slowly.  I return downstairs, to see

The pack of cigarettes, which are like cigarettes, with four cigarettes still left,

I look at them and wonder if there’s any Free Will,

They stare at me disapprovingly like middle-aged English women at the pub, the kind who smoke cigarettes,

and exhale disappointment and dispair.

My patch on, but not a patch on them,  I slink away; a crumpled ten-pack, something halfway between

an addict and a stalling tactic.

It will take thousands of years for my cigarettes to decompose, but I’m losing my composure by the minute.


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Letter to My Minions

I’ve always wanted to be an evil Overlord and have minions.  Here’s what I’d say, shortly after the quarterly reports…

An Open Letter to My Minions, sent shortly after the Quarterly Reports

An Open Letter to My Minions, sent shortly after the Quarterly Reports

Dear Minions,

First of all, I want to say how great it is to have you all.  I know sometimes it may feel like I don’t show my appreciation enough.  That being said, I think you should all reach out and give yourselves a pat each other’s shoulders.  The left shoulder, not the right, as that will activate the button that explodes your heads.

It’s been a difficult year for all of us, as countries are primarily concerned with bailing out banks, not paying ransom, I’ve heard some of you were upset that we had to cut down our staff by 25%.  Many of you were concerned that we did this with swords.  Understandable.

Our most recent company satisfaction survey scores have been high, but have indicated that you’d like us to not kill you as much.  While we have used a Christmas bonus scheme in the past, instant death sentences have proved far more effective in controlling long-term company performance.  Especially death by electric eel.  This will remain policy for the foreseeable future.

From HR.  Please note that we are working on importing hypoallergenic skin-tight body suits for those of you with latex-related reactions, however, the skin-tight suits and goggles must be worn at all times.  Remember—this is not just for your safety, it’s for our sexy!

There have been many Health and Safety concerns about the Giant Laser room.  While we make every attempt to ensure your safety, it is a huge fucking laser.  Please do not step across the clearly demarcated yellow line on the floor.  Any discomfort, cracked skin or burnt-out eyeballs should be reported to the manager immediately.

Finally, a very happy 30th birthday to the Time Distortion Department’s manager Dex Gibbner.  Please report to the Relaxation room immediately.


The OverSeer

P.S.  Has anyone seen my white cat?  Small, fluffy, ominous?  Answers to the name of Hell Death. Reward offered.

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Facebook Friend Series #3/689 –David T

At my current rate, this Facebook friend project will be done in 2200.  Today’s winner –David T!

(Please note last names are still being truncated to protect the possibly respectable.)

Possible Bumper Stickers for David T’s car, assuming he has a car, and would put bumper stickers on it, which is highly unlikely, but there you go.

Don’t like my driving?  It’s okay.  Really.  Neither do I.  I’m deeply concerned about it, and have considered doing something, but I haven’t really worked out what that is yet.  So trust me, you’re in good company.

My other car could be anything.  Anything.

Those who can do, but don’t really like to much, and have a slight aversion to commitment, but sort of want to make a difference, at some point, supply teach.

The Ladder of Your Mum

Ask me about my Swiss Ball

When life gives you lemons, punch life in the balls.  Then cut life, and squeeze lemon juice into the wound.  How do you like me now, Life?  How do you like me now!

I am the funniest fucking Jew in Cambridge.  The other one sucks.

I brake for the elderly.  Then reverse.  Then run over them again.

Honk if you love making noise for no apparent reason!

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An In-depth Analysis of Obama’s First Year in Office

In honor of the recent State of the Union address, I’d like to add my two cents, a completely in-depth analysis of Obama’s first year in office.

An in-depth analysis of Obama’s first year in office.

Obama is fucking awesome.  Seriously, he is sweet.

Obama is everything good about the world.

I love Obama, and you should too.

Obama knows every little bit helps.

Obama works while you sleep

Obama does it your way.

Obama has lasers for eyes, and can see through men,

To find the truth.

Obama loves like no one can, and in his sweet embrace

All things are possible, and you know, baby, you’re the only one, right?

Cause Obama is the Alpha and the Omega, motherfuckaaaaa!

Obama won a Nobel Peace prize just because he’s fucking Obama,

And shot the fucking moon on the same day.

Not cause he’s black, but cause he’s awesome.

Remember climate change?  Yeah.  Obama fixed that.

If Obama and Abraham Lincoln got in a fight, Obama would win,

Cause Lincoln’s just some bearded cracker, and Obama’s shit is tight, ya’ll.

If Obama punched you in the face, your head would explode, but not on him.

Obama doesn’t get wet on water slides, and his sphagetti sauce never boils over the side of the pan leaving nasty little orange splatters all over the hob.  And if he did, he wouldn’t even need to clean it. He has people for that.

Every Christmas, every year, Obama dresses up in a red suit and delivers presents to all the Children in the world in a sleigh guided by magical, flying reindeer.  And if that bitch Rudolph gives him any shit, Obama will kick his ass, cause you do not fuck with Santa Obama.

First thing Obama did in office?  Stopped crime.  Fact.

If Obama was a color, it would be the blood of his enemies.  If he was a smell it would remind you of your grandmother’s house, after she died and left you a ton of money, if he was a sound, it would be O-BAMA.  That’s a little egotistical, I know, but wouldn’t you be, if you were…Obama?

To help avoid pollution, at the bottom of all Obama’s emails, it says ‘We’re conscious of the environment, please do not print this email unless you absolutely, ABSOLUTELY have to.  Or I will come to your house, fuck your mother, and make you watch.”

Only one person has ever printed Obama’s emails.

Obama is not George Bush.

Obama is way fucking cool

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Clean Shirt, Slut Face

A fantastic bit of graffiti on an electricity box by my old flat in Norwich–just a cursive tag, which read “Clean Shirt….slut face”.  I thought it had promise for a poemet.  Sadly, I didn’t get a photo of the graffiti

Clean shirt, Slut Face

Right kit, wrong race

Never thought to stay in place

Morals dragging over dirt

Never doubt that she’ll be hurt

Nobody knows, who’s under those


Empty pose

And Money flows.

The punter’s curt

Those dances weren’t

For him, pervert!

A sickening glean

Too often seen

Staring down that clean

Shirt, there’s lace, but then those

eyes, too wise, tawdry grace

Slut Face.

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