Tag Archives: Gas

For the Record

Scientists on Earth
believe oxygen on Mars
is behaving strangely.

But how would they know?
They have never visited
that remote red rock.

And who made them judges
of what is normal and what is strange?
When they know nothing of normal
and they, themselves, are so strange.

Have they considered instead
that maybe oxygen behaves
normally on Mars and 
strangely on Earth?

Or maybe oxygen
can behave no other way
because Mars is nasty
and treats oxygen like
a noxious gas.

The HR department believes
I’m behaving strangely.

But how would they know?
They have never endured
the daily indignities
I am subjected to.

Have they considered instead
that maybe I’m behaving normally -
given the circumstances?
Maybe they wouldn’t judge
if you had been nasty to them;
treated them like a noxious gas;
left them to live life
like cockroaches in the dark
wondering what will happen
when the light turns on.

So for the record,
if there ever is one,
this is not my fault.

If you had only returned
my calls, texts, emails,  
or come to the door
when I pounded on it,
your basement window
wouldn’t be broken.

I wouldn’t be bleeding
in your airless closet.  

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

Chicken Hawk

Now is not the time for questioning minds.
Now is the time for Bud Light with lime
because thinking is hard and hurts to boot -
that's why you have me; I'm thinking's leisure suit.

Slip me on and see how I fit.
Plenty of room for belly and hip.
Gaudy and garish like the colors of war - 
not that I have ever served before.
No, that's a privilege for others to endure.

I was created to talk non-stop.
You were made to listen without thought
so listen as I glorify a past never seen
and scorch anyone who dares disagree
with a wit fueled by methane gas
and a tongue lodged so far up my ass,
it makes me wobble when I walk
and forces me to bend over when I talk
or when I get enemas of warm liquid mint
because my breath makes garbage men squint.

But these burdens must be borne
if I'm to keep my followers uninformed
and hopefully by the end of my show
there won't be anything for them to know.
So turn the radio on and hear my jingle.
May it give your tiny penis a tiny tingle.

We'll put a boot up your ass -
that's the American way.
Apple pie served with a hand grenade.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief