I’m writing you this poem ’cause I saw you when you parked.
My inner man could not believe my sight.
I haven’t even heard your voice and yet I felt a spark.
Fate says we get together for a night.

I want to strip you naked I want you to give me head.
I want to fuck repeatedly till morning.
And though I’ll take you savagely and own you in my bed.
I won’t cum on your face without a warning.

We needn’t know each others names, I don’t care if you’re taken.
Just one night of me using you so sweetly.
I’ll leave your little legs like jello that won’t stop from shakin’
And you can be a little slut discretely.

I didn’t want to creep you out and walk right up to you.
I know a lot about how girls think.
I’m honest and direct and trust that you’ll know what to do.
Just call me up and ask me for a drink.

Homeless man, where do you go when it rains?
Is your rain poncho flame proof?
Can you still smoke cocaine?

Can you still block my path without slipping and falling?
Can you still pee outside?
How much rain prevents crawling?

Does the rain wash your body of feces and sweat?
Does it dampen the smell?
Do your clothes sprout when wet?

Please tell us, dear homeless man, how goes the rain?
Does it bother the man
who’s completely insane?

To use the term ’slut’ if you are an adult
doesn’t mean what you think when you say it.
When the slut card is played as form of insult,
it exposes the people who play it.

When a girl says another girl is ’such a slut’
that doesn’t mean lots of guys ball her.
It’s a relative term, a resentment somewhat,
that the girl has more sex than the caller.

When a guy calls a girl a slut you can see
that it doesn’t mean she’s had ‘too many’.
If a guy thinks a girl has had more sex than he
she’s a slut if she wont give him any.

Rock that thong, bitches, it’s all that you need.
(Unless you use big pads the week that you bleed.)
Stop buying that shit that comes three to a pack
You’re a grown up so rock that thong – show us some back.

You don’t have to put out, rock that thong while you wait.
You’ll meet lots of nice boys and have lots of fun dates.
Thongs cover the best part, so don’t be so nervous.
Just rock that thong, bitches, it’s a fine public service!

Rock that thong, skinny bitch – show me some bone
I can pull it aside when I get you back home.
Fat bitches rock it too – show us some rear.
You know you’re a fat bitch if the thong disappears.

Rock that thong MILF bitches, tuck in your lips
Don’t get one too small, it’ll blow at your hips.
Rock that thong lesbians, be nice to guys.
We can still check your ass when your thong draws our eyes.

Rock that thong, grandma, you old Southern Belle.
On second thought, grandma, that’s nasty as hell.
But all of your daughters and granddaughters, wow!
should rock that thong
all day long
rock it right now!

It’s Superbowl time in American houses
lots of drinking and yelling and beating of spouses.

I’ll explain the allure just in case it seems silly.
It’s when men can be men as they want to be really.

But what are they venting at Superbowl time?
It’s a taboo emotion that warrants a rhyme.

There’s a homoerotic flame burning in fans.
It flares up in the parking lots, bleachers and stands.

With millions of neo-apes dressed in their meme
emoting as though they were part of the team.

They gather to celebrate masculine feats
and croon like young girls for men wearing cleats.

To be in the locker room is their big dream.
So it’s not just athletics that make these fans cream.

On Superbowl Sunday they take to the streets.
With flamboyant pride they consume their best meats.

The sausage fest opens with talk of the ’spread’.
They drink beer and suck hot dogs with things on their heads.

Testosterone surges and high fives begin.
The pre game TV show stirs something within.

Soon the studs form a circle with stares straight from jail.
One big man gets the head and the other the tail.

Then the game’s underway and all eyes hit the tube.
Tension builds up so thick that you almost need lube.

Long snappers, pooch kicks, oh it all sounds so tough.
That ’stiff arm turn over’ is especially rough!

Tight ends lose their safeties, there’s a guy called ‘The Rocket’
A ‘wish bone’ keeps your best man safe in the pocket.

An end around, bump and run, he’s going long!
Find the end zone, young stallion, that’s where you belong!

They’ll explode if he breaks out his best touchdown dance -
gyrating his package in tight shiny pants.

They’ll collide to bump nipples while grunting to cheer.
It’s a man’s holiday and it’s cool to act queer.

So bring costumes and make up and your luckiest charms.
And jump up and down with a man in your arms!

Toss a friend’s oblong balls, wear another man’s name.
Or just chill on the couch and enjoy the big game.

You’ll play catch between quarters and go long for a pass.
And after you score you can slap some man ass.

For this is what football and freedom inspires.
A gay pride parade of self loathing deniers.