Just me having fun with the sad sacks of craigslist M4W in Washington, DC.

Wednesday, February 06, 2008

What I think about Craigslist M4W

I wrote the following haiku to woo the ladies of craigslist and it was flagged and removed. What gives?

Craigslist

blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah blah
blah, blah, blah, blah, blah

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Sunday, August 05, 2007

Darkly Sexual Poetry Dude Seeks His Muse


Lost in idiocy...(permalink).

I'm a dark, misunderstood, bad boy poetry dude and I am seeking my muse. I'm very emotional and will always express how I feel. I'm not so much a cryer but more of a sulker. I like to brood at parties and bars. I like to act superior to you. I love writing poetry. I love the color black, coffee, and the Smiths. I don't have a bright green or pink shirt where I can take the collar of the shirt and wear it "popped" so don't ask.

Turn ons: brooding, sex, the Smiths, the color black, judgmental people, coffee, women who sulk, poetry.

Turn offs: "popped" collars, happy people, smiling, no sex.


one of my poems:

This is my World
Well, only some bits
First, I’m a guy
And I’ll be staring at your tits

For some they’re too little
For me it’s nothing
Just as long as they jiggle
While we are fucking

When I take you from behind
I’ll be pulling your hair
Like I’m riding a horse
At some county fair

The sex will be hot and sweaty
After hours our strength may fade
But you need not worry
I’ve got gallons of Blue Frost Gatorade®

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Thursday, December 14, 2006

Bad Poetry Thursday: Zardoz


Bad Poetry Thursday is back!!

Your distant future
My present
I am a brutal, an exterminator
I worship the stone head
Zardoz

Hidden deep within
The mouth of my god
I infiltrate Vortex Number 4
To find his true nature
Zardoz

I meet Arthur Frayn
Immortal
Fake god by occupation
Magician by inclination
Zardoz

Civilization's end
Immortality
Genetic manipulation
Artificial intelligence
Zardoz

Time control
Psychic power
Space travel
Zardoz is pleased
Stay behind my aura!

He gets letters:

"Aw man, that is bad. I was re-creating that movie in my head the other day as if it were made in this day and age. It wasn't any better. Can't believe I watched it all the way through."

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Friday, October 06, 2006

Meticulously I Crush My Warm Balls. A Poem by Mr. Banana Hammock

Meticulously I crush my warm balls
Nestled in pita
Before slathering them in hummus
Tomato and cucumber salad
Baba ganoush and pickled cabbage

Fried crushed chickpeas
Ancient fare of the forebearers
Of one of my ex-girlfriends
Best accompanied with pomme frites
And mayonnaise and a coke.

Oh falafel
Uniquely dutch treat
I ate you for lunch
At the Amsterdam Falafel Shop
Open seven days a week
Friday and Saturday until 4 AM.

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Saturday, September 23, 2006

Bad Poetry Thursday: PUMP TECH™


I’m cranking out the reps
My blood is flowing
And my muscles are feeling full
I’m training hard
It’s all about getting the pump
Is there anything better?

Yes! A supplement
For the ultimate pump
A supplement like no other
Mind boggling muscle pumps
And crazy vascularity
And I keep it for hours
After I’ve left the gym

PUMP-TECH™!
It jacks up my Nitric Oxide levels
Increases my pumps
Increases my vascular response
And contains two proprietary blends
Blends that have my muscles
Blow up like balloons

My workout
For extreme cell volumization
Has me looking forward
To hardcore workouts
My muscles will be pumped
Up to shirt-splitting size

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Thursday, September 14, 2006

Bad Poetry Thursday: Belgium

Koninkrijk België
Royaume de Belgique
Königreich Belgien
Trilingual country of northwest Europe
I’ve only visited you via train
From Amsterdam to Paris

The cockpit of the West
From the Middle Ages
Until the seventeenth century
You were a prosperous center
Of commerce and culture
And the battlefield of Europe

Founding member of the European Union
Oh how I love your mayonnaise and frites
Your endives
And the whipped cream
And fruit compote
That you put on your waffles

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Thursday, September 07, 2006

Bad Poetry Thursday: Hulking Out

A scientist I am
Nuclear physicist
Working for the man
Developing a new weapon
The gamma bomb

Caught in the blast
Trying to save a teenager
Absorbing gamma radiation
I am transformed
Into a raging monstrosity

Pursued by the military
General Thaddeus Ross
Pursued by a love
Ms. Betty Ross
A palimpsest of paradoxes

Normally shy, retiring
With my anger repressed
Using yoga to control my rage
I can retain my form
As the genius professor

But torment me and I will hulk out
Get all green and big and stuff
And become impervious to bullets
And fall from orbital heights
Without so much as a scratch

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Thursday, August 31, 2006

Bad Poetry Thursday: Michiganderr

Hopefully I've exorcised most of the Michigan out of me this week, though it was fun!

My stayd’s shapped like a midden.
I-usta live here. Now I live here.
Close ta da big lake.
Led me show ya on ma hand.
I’ma Michiganderr.

Exid 69. The Big BEEver. I-sevendy-five.
Stop near Flin. Tony’s. Home of the Big Samwich.
The hunder’s special: 5 gallons of chili.
Pounda bacon. Samwiches.
Onda wayda deer camp.

Maahm wanded us guys ta take the Chriscraft out.
She say’s, “it’s geddin’ late in da season.”
“Led’s cruise LayKEEie on las-dime. Hava cole one.”
But I said, “Maahm, deeahd ‘n’ us guys
Argoin’ hunin’ this weeken.”

In Gaylerd we stop at Meijer’s.
Pick up some supplies.
Ammo. 2 gallons of melk. Stroh’s.
Huntin’ licenses.
Feelin’ da calla da wuds.

Over Da Bridge. Up neerda Soo.
Inda landofda Yooper.
Oudin da wuds. Da sounda nachure.
Da foilage seemsda strech FREVer.
Geeze-O-Pete id’s cole.

Id’s deer camp. An all us guys are happy.
Away from da women and da big ciddies.
Deerburn, aehNarbor,
Grrarapids, Di’TROI!
Camp’s finally dethawed.

We drink our Stroh’s and play Euchre
And reminisce about poor Jimmy
Who drownded in the lake last year.
We goddar guns. We goddar ammo.
But we never shood no deer.

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Thursday, August 24, 2006

Bad Poetry Thursday: Chipati of my Youth

Here's a shout-out to any Michigan Alumni, Ann Arborites, or like me, both!

Chipati of my Youth

October 3, 1990
East and West Germany are reunited
3:00 AM the streets are quiet in Ann Arbor
The Diag bathed in moonlight
Careful! Don’t step on the M!
You won’t graduate.

Strolling home from a night of clubbing
Alternative Night! Nectarine Ballroom!
DJ Tom Simonian!
I feel a hunger deep in the pit of my soul
Pizza House! Pizza House!
Open until 4:00AM
And they deliver
Chipati.

Fresh baked whole wheat pita
Stuffed with nature’s bounty
Crispy lettuce, green pepper, sweet red pepper,
Mushroom, tomato
Feta? Add two dollars
Sauce on the side.

The mysterious sauce still haunts me
16 years later
This sauce, bathing my veggies
Soaking into my fresh baked pita
Tangy and hot and red
Sensory overload.

Oh Chipati
Oh glorified salad-in-a-pita
Served with mysterious red sauce on the side
You have many fans
Some enthusiastic
Some still in the closet
We wonder what black art created thee

Alchemy? It must be
You, saucy red enigma
Give forth your secrets
Unveil your magical olfactory melange
Of what are you made?
Ranch dressing, Frank’s RedHot Sauce,
And the philosopher’s stone…
Ketchup

He gets letters:

"I grew up in Ann Arbor. Haven't thought about the Nectarine Ballroom since I was... oh... 17. Thanks for the nostalgia injection."

"umm. what does all this mean?" (with pic attached)

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Thursday, August 17, 2006

Bad Poetry Thursday II: Man Boobs

Bad Poety Thursday II...apropos of nothing...

Man Boobs
Meaty pillows of hairy flesh
Lapping delicately with each thrust
Upon your clavicle
Like gentle tropical waves
On the beach of a desert isle

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Bad Poetry Thursday: Ode to the Woman of My Dreams

Bad Poety Thursday ... apropos of nothing ...

You can see right through me
Like clear Lucite or acrylic
My body trembles like a badly tuned
Diesel Engine.

My heart races when our eyes meet
Pitter pat, Pitter pat, Pitter pat
A metronome set at 180
Beats per minute.

I grab your waist and thrust
My tongue down your throat
And swirl it around as I would
A Q-Tip in my ear canal
Always careful not to create
Wax blockage or perforate
My eardrum.

Oh woman of my dreams
When you are able to come up for air
Your gaze meets mine
Surprise marks your visage
A deer caught in headlights

You draw a deep breath
At the top of your lungs
Melodious and sweet
Like a chorus of angels on high
You shout, “Help! Police!”

He gets letters:

"You know, I'm going to be really sad when you actually find someone on here, I always look forward to the latest Mr. Banana Hammock postings. Who will mock Omari when you're gone? Who will amuse the masses with artfully Photoshopped photos?"

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Monday, August 08, 2005

Welcome to MY World

This is just a pome I'm writting and thought I would share it as it evolves. Not really interested in criticism, I've never claimed to be a great pote. I was just inspired by the writter of the other pome and the generous criticism from a female reader who thought that the guy wanted to go from Karl to Cassandra. Oh yea and I could also use a date too. Just don’t be fat.

This is my World
Well, only some bits
First, I’m a guy
And I’ll be staring at your tits

For some they’re to little
For me it’s nothing
Just as long as they jiggle
While we are fucking

When I take you from behind
I’ll be pulling your hair
Like I’m riding a horse
At some county fair

The sex will be hot and sweaty
After hours our strength may fade
But you need not worry
I’ve got gallons of Blue Frost Gatorade®

Thats it so far. Erato, the muse of love potery and mimicry, has somehow escaped me. Hope your day is going well.

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Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Does poetry turn you on? Let's hop into bed...

Mmmmmm. Poetry...

I live in the ears of a woman...
Who lives on a wave...
Thrown by Todd on the beach...
Can you hear me?
I say, "Put down my fuckin' remote"
Nonplussed, you choose American Idol...
Your eyes? Placid pools of long forgotten stump water
I kiss you
You shiver and shake like a badly tuned diesel engine...
I kiss you
You absently utter, "Vonzell is the bomb..."
I kiss you
And subconsciously agree...
And my disillusion is complete...

(with special thanks to MI GIRL).

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Monday, April 11, 2005

And now for something even newer

They write bad poetry. Well, so can I...

Us sensitive guys don’t have it fair
We wear our feelings on our sleeves, alone we despair
For the right women for whom we can ensnare
Maybe a MWF in with whom we could have an affair
Maybe comb her hair
In a big easy chair
Whilst eating a seckel pear

She'll help him up when he is down
Maybe with a lively night on the town
Perhaps in Georgetown
Can anyone help with another rhyming noun?
Just give me a minute I’ll jot it down on the hem of your gown.

Have you ever thought that a guy prone to snivel
Had a small penis that was prone to shrivel
At the very thought of making his hips swivel
For the lovely craigslist ladies
Thanks for reading this drivel...

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