Poetry For Our Time

Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason. -Novalis

It was a dream i had last night, and besides I needed something to post today

with 2 comments

The doors crash open before my awesomeness. Heads turn, mouths gasp. My greatness flows out of me like wine from a broken cask, intoxicating those around me. As I walk forward to my throne, my place of honor, I see the haters. Well they can keep on hating cuze they got nothing on me. I’m living life large and in charge, suckas! I can’t help it if the ladies come to me like moths to a flame, they love me. I have what they want and I’m ready to give it to them. I take my seat in my shining throne, my bitches apply my bling, and my head is adorned with a most glorious crown. My head is anointed with bitter salt water, the better for my skin, and I—

The acrid smell of charred flesh permeats the room as the guard announces in a high pitched British accent, “And so ends the life of Joseph ‘Joey’ Porsche for the most heinous of crimes: Fifty and two counts of Douchebaggery, forty and three counts of Scroatwankery, and all kinds of Choading Around.” He looks out at the witnesses of the convict’s execution and proudly takes in the smug and righteous smiles on their faces. He is about to turn and leave for his other duties when he notices one man, sitting in the far back. Rather than a smug grin, he wears a worried look. His brow lies heavy upon his face, as if supporting the entire world as it battles the great evils. The man takes notice of the guard’s stare and locks eyes with him. In that instant, the guard realizes that no amount of legislation will undo the evils that is the douchebag. Even now, fifteen years after the first Anti-Douche laws were put into place, fratbags and uberdouches roam the clubs, parties, and beaches of every major city in the United States and they still “score chicks” and somehow earn the respect of real people. Even death cannot dissuade these asceses of humanity from their gross use of bling, shirtlessness, and ridiculous hand gestures. In the the flash of a second, he understood the worry and concern that weighed on the man’s mind. What can mankind do agianst such douchey-ness?


Written by gorditodelgado

February 3, 2009 at 5:29 am

Posted in Poem, Uncategorized

2 Responses

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  1. You dreamt this? Why am I not surprised?…


    February 3, 2009 at 12:18 pm

  2. heh…choading around.


    February 3, 2009 at 3:12 pm

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