Happy memorial day,
even to the derelict gangs
of roving cats who bite me
in my sleep,
and preach radical violence
with nothing more than their fangs,
as I lay in bed and plot out
yet another plan to save America
when no one else is willing to do
the hard work.
I am the alpha hero
of every Romantasy novel,
fighting and screwing my way
through even the worst dystopia
and always looking tanned and sexy
while I do it.
Happy Easter
even to the suckers and losers
who cuck their way through
the halls of Congress
looking for dollars
under the mattresses
of the sick and the nearly dead.
There is money to be found
in the crypto wallets of tech bro kings
and the banks of bad built butch bed bugs
screeching and yanking on every
disease in the sewage plants
where we all someday will dine.
But forget about them,
because it’s about damn time
Aunt Brenda paid her student loans off.
She’s 50 years behind on her payments
and just bought a new set of dentures.
If she can afford to smile
then she can afford her student loans!
Merry Christmas
even to the twisted wet boxers
I shouldn’t have slept in
for the fourth night in a row.
But I was too busy to change them,
as only I can save you, Amerigo,
lost in your search for freedom’s
jock strap
that I believe is still in the place
I buried it. If only I could remember
where that was.