Pale, Anemic
Extremely vindictiveA pampered princess whose blood that does not clot
Nagging, Grating, Whining
Very maternalThe misery must stop
I prepared a meal laden with garlic
And a dash of resentmentI switched her toothbrush from
Soft bristle to hard
Unaware of my subterfuge
My problem is solved
Danocrates discusses poetry
My Bitchy Girlfriend is a Hemophiliac
June 25th, 2007 — poetry
The Eternal Headache of a Scornful Vegan
September 25th, 2006 — poetry
I am a vegan
Pure, Organic
Meek, Malnourished
Chickpeas are my meat pellets
Tofu is my life
The art of vegetarianism is pacifism between furry organisms
A Denny’s Grand Slam is a dinner of Death!
Two slices of pig skin, a couple chicken fetuses
Sunny-side up and side of toast…please
A carton of eggs is not what I see
Twelve homemade coffins for under two bucks
Old McDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O…and on this farm he had a chicken…
…but that doesn’t matter anymore, because an Egg McMuffin is much more important than a chicken well versed in Euclidean geometry. The poultry populous is eternally damned .
Mortally assassinated.
Painfully annihilated.
Pathetically depopulated.Kill the chicken…kill…kill the chicken!
But I digress
I must confess
My body yearns for bacon
My head is throbbing
I must give in
To my paganistic, carnivorous desire of flesh
Give me some bacon and let the pig bleed!
Ode to a Futon
September 20th, 2006 — poetry

I am a futon
Bare
Unsoothing
A studio staple
A bypolar byproduct of urban convenience
Some people love mattresses
Some people love couches
I go both ways
Give me your back
And I will fuck you up for days
I’d like to share a poem with you
March 1st, 2006 — poetry
My MySpace Experience
Who the fuck is that bitch on your Top 8?
Who?
You know what slut I’m talking about.
Who?
The one with no clothes on.
Oh, that one.
I Wish I was Puerto Rican Because I Love to Go Camping
January 4th, 2006 — poetry

I was enlightened with the fact, that mangoes belong to the same family as poison ivy, the Sumac family. Certain cultures have made this fruit a staple in their diet. Puerto Rico became one of those countries. In 1750, the mango was introduced to their island and Puerto Rico embraced it. After two and half centuries of consumption, Puerto Ricans have unknowingly developed a natural immunity to poison ivy.
Case in point, my friend Ricardo and I were running through the woods naked. I unfortunately was hospitalized for a burning, eczematous rash and mi amigo Ricardo came out unscathed.
Once I recovered, I had an inspiration and drew out my quill and scribed this poem…
I Wish I was Puerto Rican Because I Love to Go Camping
Mangos
Succulent orbs of protective fructosePoison Ivy
Infectious, secreting leaves of agonyThe devious, demonic plant lurking below
Preying on unsuspecting Gringos with their unprotected skinBehold!
Mira!My epidermis is laced with Mango Madness.
Defending my body from the venomous juice.My regal blood is produced by my pumping, pulminary papaya
Immune to the toxic Taliban of tormentEschuchen, por favor
I love to lay in the grass
You can kiss my Puerto Rican ass
Ode to a Hombre Flaco y Blanquito
August 3rd, 2005 — international, poetry
Yo soy un hombre flaco y blanquito.
Debil.
Baboso.Un gringo quemado que habla mal el español.
Un poco femenino.
Alguna personas son
Blanco.
Alguna personas son
Latino.Soy ninguno del los dos.
Yo sere Blanco por fuero
pero por dentro soy Latino.Tráigame frijoles y maduros y dejame en libertad.
I Wish I was Puerto Rican Because I Love to Go Camping
June 16th, 2005 — food, international, poetry

I was enlightened with the fact, that mangoes belong to the same family as poison ivy, the Sumac family. Certain cultures have made this fruit a staple in their diet. Puerto Rico became one of those countries. In 1750, the mango was introduced to their island and Puerto Rico embraced it. After two and half centuries of consumption, Puerto Ricans have unknowingly developed a natural immunity to poison ivy.
Case in point, my friend Ricardo and I were running through the woods naked. I unfortunately was hospitalized for a burning, eczematous rash and mi amigo Ricardo came out unscathed.
Once I recovered, I had an inspiration and drew out my quill and scribed this poem…
Mangos
Succulent orbs of protective fructose
Poison Ivy
Infectious, secreting leaves of agony
The devious, demonic plant lurking below
Preying on unsuspecting Gringos with their unprotected skin
Behold!
Mira!
My epidermis is laced with Mango Madness.
Defending my body from the venomous juice.
My regal blood is produced by my pumping, pulminary papaya
Immune to the toxic Taliban of torment
Eschuchen, por favor
I love to lay in the grass
You can kiss my Puerto Rican ass
Any Given Saturday at the Dungeon Master’s House
January 7th, 2005 — poetry
Let’s get this party started.
Mano y Mano
Me against You
My THAC0 is low, and your Armor Class is high
Get your dice ready, and prepare to die
Your lack of creativity appalls me
(let me guess a big barbarian with an Austrian accent and a two-handed sword named, Bonan)
How original.
Roll for initiative.
Yikes! I go first.
Step aside, and watch the master.
I rolled a twenty, bitch
That’s a critical hit.
Double damage.
Not shabby for an itty bitty long sword
Hate to see what carnage is released by my twelve-sided die
A deadly Dodecahedron
Inscribed with numbers.
Ouch! I maxed it out.
Twelve times two equals twenty-four
Two more points, and you go nighty-night
Pray for a cleric when you reach Death’s Door
Your turn, slug
You move like a tortoise with rigamortis
Roll your twenty, and don’t fuck up
Tisk, tisk, rolled a one
Oops, looks like a fumble
Stupid half-orc.
That’s the last time you’ll call me a tree-huggin’, dandelion-eating, cucumber-suckin elf lover. What’s sad is most of your kind are created by the evil act of a human female being violently impregnated by a hideous orc. But YOU exist because your Dad was so vile and disgusting, he could ONLY FUCK ORCS!!
Suck my steel, you son of a motherless goat!
Quinntoth Winterloc of Tanterbahn, son of Avin
(half-elf, male, 6th Level Bard)
Paper Versus Plastic
December 25th, 2004 — poetry
Credit Cards are clean and sheen
A modern way of lifePaper Bills are old world
Absorbent, Dirty
Reeking of human filthThe scent of a stripper
Crack-fives and coke-frosted Benjamins, straight from Wall StreetWhen I look at a bill,
I see a tree that never was!
He could of been anything in the world
Perhaps a Christmas TreeAlas!
He would be doomed again
35 million trees are slaughtered by ax-wielding Santas
Maimed at their kneesChristmas capitalist consume!
Merry morticians decorate with glee
Rotting corpses in the guise of gaiety and garland
One bowl of water away from deathRidiculed with trinkets, hot lights, and a gaudy gold star
Humiliated, Confused
Praying for euthanasiaTwo words end their misery
ME®®Y ©H®I$™A$
ANY GIVEN SATURDAY AT THE Dungeon Master’s HOUSE
July 21st, 2004 — poetry, sci-fi
Let’s get this party started.
Mano y Mano
Me against You
My THAC0 is low, and your Armor Class is high
Get your dice ready, and prepare to die
Your lack of creativity appalls me
(let me guess a big barbarian with an Austrian accent and a two-handed sword named, Bonan)
How original.
Roll for initiative.
Yikes! I go first.
Step aside, and watch the master.
I rolled a twenty, bitch
That’s a critical hit.
Double damage.
Not shabby for an itty bitty long sword
Hate to see what carnage is released by my twelve-sided die
A deadly Dodecahedron
Inscribed with numbers.
Ouch! I maxed it out.
Twelve times two equals twenty-four
Two more points, and you go nighty-night
Pray for a cleric when you reach Death’s Door
Your turn, slug
You move like a tortoise with rigamortis
Roll your twenty, and don’t fuck up
Tisk, tisk, rolled a one
Oops, looks like a fumble
Stupid half-orc.
(That’s the last time you’ll call me a tree-huggin’, dandelion-eating, cucumber-suckin elf lover. What’s sad is most of your kind are created by the evil act of a human female being violently impregnated by a hideous orc. But YOU exist because your Dad was so vile and disgusting, he could ONLY FUCK ORCS!!)
Suck my steel, you son of a motherless goat!
Quinntoth Winterloc of Tanterbahn, son of Avin
(half-elf, male, 6th Level Bard)












