11-1-99 P2

Paul St. Fakename, Esq.'s Poetry Slam-O-Rama

By Paul St. Fakename, Esq.

The Author at work.

Why do so many self-absorbed egoists feel the need to put their poetry on their personal home page? Why does it invariably suck? Well, here at The American Jerk we pride ourselves on the fact that we can write poetry as badly as anybody. Hell, we even throw in some scatological and religious references in hopes of landing that big NEA grant. We’ve said it before and we’ll say it again - we’re only in it for the money. Well, the money and, of course, the chicks. Rich, gullible NEA chicks.

Me and Fat Ernie Borgnine

Remember the time when I gored that monkey?

That’s how much I love you.

And remember that time that guy

and that other guy went to that place

and drank that beer? Well,

that was me. But

don’t hate me—

It was warm.

Don’t stuff the penguins down the toilet.

Five years’ leaves have fallen on the ground of my discontent.

I have buried my hatchet in the snows of winters past.

I will not hate you anymore.

I will plot ways to bludgeon your hillbilly ass instead.

I will cha-cha on your grave, you furry-lipped psychobitch dildo-hog.

Pissing

The Author, getting in touch with his muse.

Goddamn toilet seat left down, I mutter

as I grope, trying to free

my big hairy balls.

That’s the best part of pissing, I guess—

feeling my balls in my hand,

the eggs of my manhood,

my gummy family jewels.

Well, maybe it’s not as great a feeling

as peeing in your soapdish

or all over your bathtub and towel rack,

and claiming when you yell at me, “I gots the brain damage.

I’m a big boy now.”

My balls bring the world sunshine.

My urine is the Word of God.

When I am drunk I am a holy oracle of Christ,

spraying my blessings on our houseguests

indiscriminately.

I shall have my wet, yellow revenge.

You Burnt My Toast Again, You Bitch

You burnt my toast again,

you bitch.

“Daddy, I’m only four years old--don’t yell at me.”

Bite my crank,

you whiny midget Yanni freak.

Main Archive Table of Contents

November, 1999 Issue Table of Contents

Not Tonight, I'm Too Drunk Olympia Dukakis' Breasts

Month In Pictures Kiddie Korner

Poetry Slam-O-Rama Ethical Treatment of Carnivores Useful Indiscretion eJerk