Bad Poetry Vol. 2: To Hell with Justice

Just as asinine, every bit as bad as Vol. 1

The Donald

I walked into Donald Trump’s office,
and found him shaving a red-assed baboon.
He was bald and oily, and he looked startled.
The Donald, I mean. Not the baboon.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
“That I’m shaving this baboon,
and that I’m going to use its hair as a toupee.”
I frowned and nodded my head ‘yes’.

“Well, that’s not it,” he said.
“I’m shaving this baboon to have sex with it.”
“Oh,” I said. “I guess I’ll leave you two alone then.”
“No,” Donald Trump said. “Stay.”

I stood there for another 47 seconds.
We made silent eye contact the whole time.
It was awkward.

I came back a few hours later
to deliver the bankruptcy papers.
As I came through the lobby
I saw the red-assed baboon leaving.
He was wearing a trenchcoat and sunglasses.
He looked ashamed.

I don’t think the money was worth it.

baboon-120409

(Pictured: A red-assed baboon. Though not necessarily the red-assed baboon I saw Donald Trump have sex with.)

Yeezus

Kanye West won the award for Best Celebrity.
He walked up to the microphone and said:
“First, I’d like to thank our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ
through who all things are possible.”

I looked over at Jesus angrily.
He kept his eyes on the TV, refusing to acknowledge my glare.
I was about to say something like “Way to go” or “Nice one, Jesus.”
But then Kanye said:
“Psyche. This is all about me tonight. Me and Beyonce.”

Jesus breathed a sigh of relief.

Next up was a tribute to flood victims
who died in the Great Asian Tsunami.
Jesus got up to get more popcorn.
I didn’t say anything.

The 4th of July

The 4th of July fireworks were beautiful.
They really took the edge off the sacrifices that would come next.
“Don’t worry,” my mother whispered in my ear.
“They’re not like us. They’re just ants.”
It was hard to think of it that way, but I got used to it.
After all, the Antpeople had landed five years ago,
and they sacrifice humans everyday.

Antpeople

(Pictured: Antpeople- Left: Shaman, Right: Garth)

Fear Itself

“We have nothing to fear, but fear itself… How’s that?” FDR asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m afraid of clowns.”
FDR looked angry.
“I’m just saying, I’m not afraid of being scared.” I said.
“I’m afraid of clowns. Clowns and polio.”
Now FDR was really angry.
“Look, write what you want,” I said. “I’m going bowling.”
I bowled a 230. It was pretty cool.

Bargain Hunting

The Wal-Mart clerk handed me the gun from behind the counter.
“Are you sure you should be selling these?” I asked.
“All the people in here look like suicide risks.”

The clerk thought for a minute and said:
“Yeah. But they’re the type that kill themselves slowly…
With Twizzlers, Coca-Cola, and poor life decisions.”
It was a fair point, I thought.

I took the gun and started aiming it.
“So what are you planning on doing with that gun?” he asked.
“Me?” I said. “I hunt people for sport.”
We both laughed.

“Seriously, though… Lock the doors.” I said.

The Bag Trap

“I’d sell my soul for a doughnut right now,” Greg said.
Nothing happened.
“Try something else! Think big!” I shouted.
“A doughnut? What are you Homer Simpson? Sell it!”
Greg took a minute and tried again.
“I’m just sooooo poor,” he moaned. “I’d do anything for money…
Even sell my soul…”

Suddenly the room filled with smoke
and The Devil appeared.
“Rrrrreeealllyyy?” he hissed.
“Now Jesus! Now!” I yelled.
Jesus jumped from behind the couch
and sprang at Satan with the bag.
But it was too late.
He was gone with a poof.
“Damn. Don’t worry Jesus.
We’ll get him next time.” I said.

Justice Is Served

When we entered the juror room,
half of us thought the defendant was innocent.
The other six thought he was guilty.

We argued until we got hungry.
When it came time to get food, half us wanted pizza.
The other six wanted Chinese food.

“I’ve got a compromise,” I said.
“If you six agree to get pizza,
then we’ll agree the defendant is guilty.”

In the end we got pizza.
And I was the best jury foreman ever.

Serving-Up-Justice

(Pictured: Pizza with a Side of Justice)

The Deer Hunter

I was hunting a deer with the new gun I’d bought at Wal-Mart.
I was about to shoot it when it shouted “Stop!”
I was like: “Whoa! Deer, did you just talk?”
It was all: “Yeah. Don’t shoot me, okay?”
I asked why not. After all, I’d come that far.

The deer answered with a question of its own:
“Why do you want to shoot me?”
“Gotta shoot something,” I said.
“Are you going to eat me?” it asked.
“Yeah, I think so.” I said.
“Am I really that delicious?”
“Well, I mean, not as delicious as cow, or chicken,” I said.

Then we both yelled in unison:
“Then why don’t you go kill a cow or chicken?!”
(I knew I’d walked right into that one.)
“Because that’s too easy,” I said “Cows and chickens don’t run.
They’re too slow and duh-.”
I was cut off by the sound of a double-barrel shotgun being cocked.

“Don’t fucking move,” a voice said from behind me.
I looked at the deer grinning.
“Who’s slow and dumb now?” he asked.
He took my gun and then tied me naked to a tree.
I just had to stand there and watch
as the cow, chicken and deer left with my stuff.
“At least we’re not gonna eat you,”
the cow said as they walked away.
“Boc-Boc- Bah- Bah-Bitch!” the chicken said.

I’m a vegetarian now.

Bad Poetry Vol. 1: It’s a Small, Weird World

When I talk to people about writing I usually tell them that I can write anything… except poetry.

I just never developed a knack for it. To this day, I don’t understand what an iamb is. And I’ve looked it up at least a half-dozen times. I don’t know what meter is. I don’t understand it, and I get frustrated thinking about it.

Given this ineptitude, I’ve avoided poetry for most of my life.

But no more.

Rather than running, I’ve declared war on the form, with this newest Drunk & Humble Feature: Bad Poetry.

Please enjoy…

Jesus Rides Behind Me

I was riding my motorcycle through the Nevada desert, 
By Area 51.
When I saw Jesus on the side of the road.
I wasn’t looking for him, like so many people are.
He was just there, standing in the dust and the sun.
“Jesus Christ!” I shouted, in disbelief.
Jesus smiled sheepishly and waved.
You’re not supposed to yell out the names of famous people when you meet them.
I felt embarrassed and started to drive on.
Then I turned back.

“Hey, Jesus,” I said. “Do you want to join my motorcycle gang?”
He held his hands up and shook his head.
“C’mon. It’ll be fun,” I said.
Jesus looked down.
I could tell he was uncomfortable.
After a pause I said: “You don’t know how to ride do you?”
I smiled a little so he knew I wasn’t judging him.
He smiled a little too.
He knew he’d been busted.
“Here,” I said, tossing him my helmet.
“Climb on back.”
Jesus looked up at me, still smiling, and put my helmet on.
He got on back of my bike and we rode off.
Jesus had his arms around my waist.
It was a glorious day.

Groundhog’s Day

The Oracle emerges every February 2.
He blesses us with an early spring or curses us with more winter.
Our prayers and offerings weren’t enough this year, and the little bastard cursed us.
He crawled from his hole, stroked his beard thrice and said:
“You will spend another six weeks shivering in winter’s cold, unforgiving shadow.”
Then his eyes glowed white and he went back inside.
One woman screamed and killed herself on the spot.
It’s an ugly affair, Groundhog’s Day.
But without it, there’d be no order.

 Fuckin’ Weird

I was walking through Monument Park.
Sometimes I go there to read.
By one of the benches, there was a mime and a clown.
The mime was playing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” on a saw.
It made me uneasy.
One phrase just kept repeating in my head: “Fuckin’ weird.”
I walked past them and found a separate bench.
A few minutes later, they came by.
They were throwing a ball to people who would throw it back.
I couldn’t concentrate on my reading.
I just kept praying they wouldn’t engage me.
Thankfully they didn’t.
Eventually, I walked away chuckling to myself.
Again thinking “Fucking weird.” over and over again.
Who wants to be a mime? Why are people clowns?
Did they meet as a mime and a clown?
Or did they make that choice together?
Either way.
Fuckin’ weird.

The Pope Goes Nuclear

Jesus and I sat in the fallout shelter eating cans of peaches.
It’d been three years since the pope declared thermo-nuclear war.
I could hear the mutants roaming above.
“Maybe you could talk to him,” I said.
Jesus finished chewing his peaches, swallowed, and said:
“Funny thing is, I don’t really know the guy.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well maybe your dad then?”
“Mmmm,” Jesus said grimacing. “We’re not really on speaking terms.”
“Oh,” I said.
I was out of ideas.
“Yeah, to be honest, He abandoned you guys a few thousand years ago.
Just gave up, and walked away.
He’s got a new planet now. That’s why you guys had, like, Hitler and AIDs and stuff.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, I’m gonna give it another hour.
Then I’m gonna go womp those mutants with this crowbar.”

The Break Up

I was lying in bed next to a girl I’d been dating.
We’d just had sex.
I farted really loudly.
It shook the bed.
My cat laughed.
I laughed, too.
“Like it or lump it,” I said to the girl.
She laughed.
Then she farted really loudly.
“Ew. Gross.” I said. “That’s not funny.”
We broke up.

 In the Army

Of all the officers in the Army,
Sergeant Jazzhands was the toughest.
“It’s almost like he’s compensating for something,”
one private said to me.
“Yeah,” I said. “I bet he has a small penis.”

 Road Rage

The parking lot was crowded, but I’d found a space.
I was just about to pull into it,
when another man with a truck cut me off.
He took my space.
I got out to confront him and a heated argument ensued.
Then, out of nowhere, aliens landed about 10 feet away.
I felt so small.
Here I was in a country with racism, inequality, and The Bachelor.
In a world full of famine, war, and suffering.
In a universe so vast, aliens with foreign technology travel billions of miles to investigate a distant planet,
Just to find me arguing with some asshole over a parking space.
As I was paralyzed by this moment of clarity, the alien emerged from its ship.
“I come in peace,” it said.
I looked at the man I’d been arguing with.
We both kind of laughed.
And then I shot him.
It was my parking space.
I handed the gun to the alien before the police showed up.
That’s how I started the war with the aliens.

Netflix Instant Classic: A Touch of Sin

Genre: Foreign, Action, Drama, Indepenent

What’s it about? People grappling with varying forms of corruption in China.

Who’s in it? Wu Jiang, Baoqiang Wang, Tao Zhao

You’ll like it if… you can handle subtitles and moderate violence. If you’re curious about China. And if you like good movies.

China has always been a mysterious country. Whether it’s behind a great wall, within the confines of a forbidden palace, or cloaked in the shroud of bureaucracy, China’s inner-workings are always obscured from view.

Centuries of invasion and exploitation have left the country notoriously distrustful of outsiders. China is decidedly introverted – a characteristic that’s been exacerbated by its autocratic leadership.

So it’s fascinating, and in a sense comforting, to see the kind of vulnerability laid bare by A Touch of Sin.

The movie’s brooding atmosphere, violent and sexual overtones, and critical view of public policy got it banned on the Mainland.

But its rich characters, robust storylines, and forceful direction got it nominated for the Palme d’Or at the 2013 Cannes Film Festival, with director Jia Zhangke winning the award for Best Screenplay. (Both the movie and Jia could have won an Oscar, too, but it wasn’t eligible since China banned its official release.)

 I didn’t know it before I saw this movie, but Jia is a big deal.

Another one of his films, Still Life, won the top award at the Venice Film Festival. He’s a subversive force China, a country that takes its censorship very seriously.

Rather than present an idealized version of China that Beijing wants people to see, Jia focuses on a more authentic depiction of life in the world’s fastest developing economy – specifically the alienation and disorientation felt by so many Chinese people.

A Touch of Sin divides its focus among four main characters, all of which are driven to violent acts, and in some cases, ends. They’re mini-tragedies that play out against the grim backdrop of a rapidly industrializing nation. (All of them are based on real-life incidents.)

At a small coal-mining village in Shanxi, the air is rife with both soot and corruption. Government officials operate on a plane separate from the local workers. They fly high in private jets, soaring over motorcycle taxis and train wrecks.

In Dongguan, wealthy businessmen choose from a buffet of high-priced prostitutes, while factory workers down the road churn out cheap clothes and iPhones.

In each case, the gears of cold, mechanical progress grind on, lubricated by human blood.

It may not sound like there’s much in common with the U.S. experience, but in truth, the stories are eerily familiar. If it were cast with white, English-speaking actors, it would be easy to picture these stories unfolding in the United States or Europe, as opposed to China – a country that is considered an ascending power that will inevitably challenge Western hegemony.

At its core, this movie is about a country whose social and political structures struggle to keep pace with the evolving desires of its people. It’s about a population of farmers-turned-factory workers-turned consumers. It’s about people overwhelmed by the stress, indulgences, extravagance, disparity, and violence that money can bring.

It’s about the high human cost of wealth.

These stories play out so graphically, with such humanity and vulnerability, that by the end, China doesn’t seem so mysterious at all.

It seems shockingly, disturbingly familiar.