As an English major, I'm automatically a licensed poet. Since poetry is a theme in this issue of the Dish, I knew I had to spread my mad skill with words around, like jelly on a cat.
This first poem is an ode. Odes are poems that have been force-fed angst since a young age. This makes their muscles atrophied, which makes them tender and juicy, emotionally speaking.
An Ode to My Love
Her hair is like wine,
Her voice like a bee,
She's so beautiful,
I have to pee.
Pee like the river of love from my heart,
Pee like the finest of all works of art.
A leak that would express my love,
A leak for you, my turtledove.
A dove is a bird, of finest white light,
A dove is beautiful, lovely in flight.
But a dove is a candle to the sun of your beauty,
When you shake that gorgeous ghetto booty.
For you I would hold it for all of time,
For you I cross my legs like twine.
For your love is sweeter than bladder's release,
Or time on the toilet, quiet, at peace.
This next poem is a haiku. Haikus are smaller, more compact and generally more efficient than their American poetic counterparts. They should be read aloud with great reverence and followed by a gong.
Hunger strikes me deep
Value tacos, eighty cents.
Silent but deadly.
These next three are limericks. The most well-known limerick begins, "There once was a man from Nantucket," but due to rhyming and temptation, I can't print that one. Limericks are simple to make and enjoyable, and hence devoid of all artistic value.
My Thesaurus Rocks, But No One Understands Me.
There once was a John so estranged,
That many thought him deranged,
Although he was good,
He was misunderstood,
And so he was always harangued
And another, which I call "Loss."
There once was a cake most delicious,
Tasty, if not nutritious,
But it was eaten,
By my roommate, the cretin,
Whose chocolate-smeared face was suspicious.
And my last piece, which I call "A Sonnet of Fire."
There once was a guy who so alone,
Who had no queen for his throne,
So he moaned to his shoe,
"Oh what do I do?"
And the shoe didn't say anything, because it was a shoe.
Johnathan Kastner is a junior English major. His columns run weekly in the Dish.