languagedoodler
poetry by (the)Doug
Friday, October 16, 2020
Friday, June 04, 2010
Saying the Wrong Thing
“For my birthday
we’re going to the aquarium—
I want to see the dolphin show.”
Dolphins commit
suicide, you know.
we’re going to the aquarium—
I want to see the dolphin show.”
Dolphins commit
suicide, you know.
White Man's Burden
black guys are stealing
all our fat chicks
hipsters are stealing
all our cute chicks
lesbians are stealing
all our confused chicks
all our fat chicks
hipsters are stealing
all our cute chicks
lesbians are stealing
all our confused chicks
fiancephalitis
My girlfriend
is a new noun.
Soon to be
another new noun.
Hopefully
the new nouns
end there.
(I now pronounce you
only three nouns to be.)
is a new noun.
Soon to be
another new noun.
Hopefully
the new nouns
end there.
(I now pronounce you
only three nouns to be.)
Friday, May 14, 2010
Cosmic Joke
Stop me if you've
heard this one before:
Within an hour
of telling Jeff
my plan to propose
to her in four weeks
she calls and tells me
she's not in
love with me
not happy has lost her feelings
and she doesn't feel the
same commitment (anymore).
Where's my rimshot?
C'mon,
I can take a joke.
But that rimshot
better be as loud
as fucking thunder.
heard this one before:
Within an hour
of telling Jeff
my plan to propose
to her in four weeks
she calls and tells me
she's not in
love with me
not happy has lost her feelings
and she doesn't feel the
same commitment (anymore).
Where's my rimshot?
C'mon,
I can take a joke.
But that rimshot
better be as loud
as fucking thunder.
Thursday, May 06, 2010
Soroughly Thoused
The key to life is to never have a door.
I am where
my eye is a knot.
Welchful faces,
welp, that’s me,
full of lament.
Raise an Army of Sisyphi,
and thin out their ranks in the afternoon
with waffle ball bats.
Never come between a man
and his stripper.
Nonny nonny boo-boo,
the underpaid nanny’s in the kitchen making pasteles and
I can make dreams from the lint in my pocket.
A hand in the stomach
married to a mouth in the heart.
Let’s catch no birds with no stones
for a change.
Let’s play with ketchup
and leave all this mustard behind.
I am where
my eye is a knot.
Welchful faces,
welp, that’s me,
full of lament.
Raise an Army of Sisyphi,
and thin out their ranks in the afternoon
with waffle ball bats.
Never come between a man
and his stripper.
Nonny nonny boo-boo,
the underpaid nanny’s in the kitchen making pasteles and
I can make dreams from the lint in my pocket.
A hand in the stomach
married to a mouth in the heart.
Let’s catch no birds with no stones
for a change.
Let’s play with ketchup
and leave all this mustard behind.
Sunday, May 02, 2010
Optimiasma
Tomorrow will be better.
Tomorrow’s tomorrow will be betterer.
Tomorrow’s tomorrow’s tomorrow will be bettererer.
Yesterday was shit.
Today I am just figuring all this out
copyright © 2010 thedoog
Tomorrow’s tomorrow will be betterer.
Tomorrow’s tomorrow’s tomorrow will be bettererer.
Yesterday was shit.
Today I am just figuring all this out
copyright © 2010 thedoog
Friday, April 23, 2010
Nothing Nearly
I didn’t realize it
was Wednesday until it was Thursday.
I didn’t realize it was Spring
until seven dogs barked
all at the same time.
The heat did not click on
because, you’d say, it was
warm enough outside—
because, really, I believe, the
cat left the shades undrawn
and the sun was
waved through the
checkpoint of solitude
and warmed all the more
than just that patch of couch
I lay on when
you are not here.
was Wednesday until it was Thursday.
I didn’t realize it was Spring
until seven dogs barked
all at the same time.
The heat did not click on
because, you’d say, it was
warm enough outside—
because, really, I believe, the
cat left the shades undrawn
and the sun was
waved through the
checkpoint of solitude
and warmed all the more
than just that patch of couch
I lay on when
you are not here.
DD Form 214
I won't be
ordered anymore
to kill
any more brown people
anymore.
(no folding, ironing, forming,
gas-masking, pt-ing,
subjugating;
not by me–
but it will
go on
and on
until we've fucked
all the differences away)
so they say.
ordered anymore
to kill
any more brown people
anymore.
(no folding, ironing, forming,
gas-masking, pt-ing,
subjugating;
not by me–
but it will
go on
and on
until we've fucked
all the differences away)
so they say.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
vary us
we are all made of whores.
the privileged
envy the afflicted.
for the privileged
every day is a cocktail hour for one.
identity is an invisible birthmark.
Nietzsche is 'they.'
the privileged
envy the afflicted.
for the privileged
every day is a cocktail hour for one.
identity is an invisible birthmark.
Nietzsche is 'they.'
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