Remembering An Account Executive
He had a back office in his older brother’s
advertising agency and understood the human asshole.
He turned his father’s small inheritance over and over
on hemorrhoid ads between three-hour lunches
at the Plaza every day and cocktails at five-thirty
with different dressy women waiting in our front office.
We joked that he fucked them up the ass to make more customers
and were nauseated by him because he picked his ears
with the lead end of his lead pencil as he argued and argued
hemorrhoid copy with us on nauseating Mad. Ave. mornings.
Why argue? It must have been for executive power-feelings
because the copy never changed. Every week, the poor
bleeding assholes bought the shit. When my mind
began to get fucked and go as black as his inner ears
I quit as broke as I began, remembering his prophecy:
that the last working television set in the world
would be showing a hemorrhoid ad for ANUSALL
at Armageddon, that it would have been written
by him, that he would be watching it at 6:00 P.M.
in the bomb-cellar lounge of the Park Plaza Hotel
with a blonde’s ass in one hand and a scotch in the other,
and that he would die happy, with his old man’s
money intact and his asshole too, unlike us prat-boys.
poem by Alan Dugan
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Related quotes
The Asshole Song
Well I was drivin' down I-95 the other night.
Somebody nearly cut me right off the road.
I decided it wasn't gonna do any good to get mad.
So I wrote a song about him instead.
It goes like this...
Were you born an asshole?
Or did you work at it your whole life?
Either way it worked out fine
'cause you're an asshole tonight.
Yes you're an A S S H O L E...
And don't you try to blame it on me.
You deserve all the credit.
You're an asshole tonight.
You were an asshole yesterday.
You're an asshole tonight.
And I've got a feelin'
you'll be an asshole the rest of your life.
And I was talkin' to your mother
just the other night.
I told her I thought you were an asshole.
She said, "Yes. I think you're right."
And all your friends are assholes
'cause you've known them your whole life.
And somebody told me
you've got an asshole for a wife.
Were you born an asshole?
Or did you work at it your whole life?
Either way it worked out fine
'cause you're an aaaass...hole tonight.
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Idiot Son Of An Asshole
He's not smart, a C student
And that's after buying his way into school
Beady eyes, and he's kinda dyslexic
Can he read? No one's really quite sure
He signs stuff and he executes people
Maybe that's why, he doesn't have any friends
Cocaine and a little drunk driving
Doesn't matter, when you're the Commander in Chief.
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
Put on some make-up, turn on the 8-Track,
I'm putting a week back on the shelf,
Suddenly I'm the President, of the United States,
But then I woke up, and realized I'm still me.
He's too dumb, to eat pretzels, apparently smart enough to fix an election.
Moved boldly into the White House,
but most people voted against him.
He likes naps, He really likes naptime, A couple of naps and then a nap and then he's ready for bed,
He may be from Bush decent, but he's always gonna be the unpresident.
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
He's our president!
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Idiot Son Of An Asshole
NoFX - Idiot Son Of An Asshole lyrics
He's not smart, a C student
And that's after buying his way into school
Beady eyes, and he's kinda dyslexic
Can he read? No one's really quite sure
He signs stuff and he executes people
Maybe that's why, he doesn't have any friends
Cocaine and a little drunk driving
Doesn't matter, when you're the Commander in Chief.
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
(***not in the video version on The War On Errorism****
Put on some make-up, turn on the 8-Track,
I'm putting a week back on the shelf,
Suddenly I'm the President, of the United States,
But they I woke up, and realized I'm still me. )
He's too dumb, to eat pretzels, apparently smart enough to fix an election.
Moved boldly into the White House,
though most people voted against him.
He likes naps, He's good at naptime, A couple of naps and then a nap and then he's ready for
bed,
He may be from Bush decent, He's always gonna, gonna be the un-precedent
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
He's our president!
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sphincter
I hope my good old asshole holds out
60 years it's been mostly OK
Tho in Bolivia a fissure operation
survived the altiplano hospital--
a little blood, no polyps, occasionally
a small hemorrhoid
active, eager, receptive to phallus
coke bottle, candle, carrot
banana & fingers -
Now AIDS makes it shy, but still
eager to serve -
out with the dumps, in with the condom'd
orgasmic friend -
still rubbery muscular,
unashamed wide open for joy
But another 20 years who knows,
old folks got troubles everywhere -
necks, prostates, stomachs, joints--
Hope the old hole stays young
till death, relax
poem by Allen Ginsberg
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Personal Demons
Self-absorbed
Mind-fucked
Little cunts
To afraid to confront
There personal demons
They want me to do it for them
They want me to forgive them of there trustpasses
I'm not that nice of a human being
They wanted to travel down there own destructive path
So I'm not going to put the pieces
Of there fucked up life back together again
I have my own problems
So as soon as I'm finish writing this poem
I'll start on my fucked life
11-10-04
poem by Brandi Young
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Dog Lover
I don’t care for Reggie’s dog.
It leaps backwards like a circus trick
when I make a friendly move towards him
Crazy fucked up dog
I don’t like Carla’s dog either.
It retreats to the kitchen when I approach
And acts like I’m the jinx of the world.
God damned fucked up dog
Tom’s dog likes me
But it likes everyone.
How can you just reflexively trust everyone?
You’re bound to get smacked doing that.
Stupid fucked up dog
poem by Michael Philips
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I Just Can't Take This
I just can’t take this anymore
I just can’t take this shit any longer
You drive me insane
From all your fucked up stories
Why can’t you go away
And stop all my pain and misery
I just can’t take this anymore
I just can’t take anymore shit
From your sorry ass
You think your a bad ass
Just because all the girls like you
Get away from me
Leave me alone
Get away from me
I can’t take your shit any longer
Stop!
Keep all your sorry fucked up problems to yourself
And stop driving me insane
I just can’t take this shit
I just can’t take this shit any longer
Just get away from me
poem by Brandi Young
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The Duke of Plaza-Toro
In enterprise of martial kind,
When there was any fighting,
He led his regiment from behind
(He found it less exciting).
But when away his regiment ran,
His place was at the fore, O-
That celebrated,
Cultivated,
Underrated
Noble man,
The Duke of Plaza-Toro!
In the first and foremost flight, ha, ha!
You always found that knight, ha, ha!
That celebrated,
Cultivated,
Underrated
Noble man,
The Duke of Plaza-Toro!
When, to evade Destruction's hand,
To hide they all proceeded,
No soldier in that gallant band
Hid half as well as he did.
He lay concealed throughout the war,
And so preserved his gore, O!
That unaffected,
Undetected,
Well connected
Warrior,
The Duke of Plaza-Toro!
In every doughty deed, ha, ha!
He always took the lead, ha, ha!
That unaffected,
Undetected,
Well connected
Warrior,
The Duke of Plaza-Toro!
When told that they would all be shot
Unless they left the service,
That hero hesitated not,
So marvellous his nerve is.
He sent his resignation in,
The first of all his corps, O!
That very knowing,
Overflowing,
Easy-going
Paladin ,
The Duke of Plaza-Toro!
To men of grosser clay, ha, ha!
He always showed the way, ha, ha!
That very knowing,
Overflowing,
Easy-going
Paladin ,
The Duke of Plaza-Toro!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Care For The Elderly - A Conference
They gather in the Greeting Place
A smaller flock than once expected
Still elated - out from work and office
All around - the empty space
Is pressing on the keen - collected
Taking pointers - out from work and office
Inside the hall there is small trace
Of anyone to ‘stand corrected'
They're all working - inside work and office
Still curtains drift - in finest lace
The certain eyes not disaffected
Hide behind the lace of work and office
And speakers high in group embrace
Speak on and clap in unelected
Fluffy tones of every Higher Office
The higher speakers high disgrace
Is hid below their undetected
Lack of use - their waste of work and office
In keening grief - tears hid from face
A speaker - practical - affected
Brings human life within their work and office
And human thoughtfulness will base
Its Older Care on need selected
From that shown - away from work and office
Its time to fix he High and chase
By methods certain - unsuspected
Out form power - out from work and office
Foregather - follow to their base
See them - incestuous - connected
By wires unseen - inside work and office
27Mar2011 CPR
poem by Charlotte Peters Rock
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Buttons
I have been watching the war map slammed up for advertising in front of the newspaper office.
Buttons—red and yellow buttons—blue and black buttons—are shoved back and forth across the map.
A laughing young man, sunny with freckles,
Climbs a ladder, yells a joke to somebody in the crowd,
And then fixes a yellow button one inch west
And follows the yellow button with a black button one inch west.
(Ten thousand men and boys twist on their bodies in a red soak along a river edge,
Gasping of wounds, calling for water, some rattling death in their throats.)
Who would guess what it cost to move two buttons one inch on the war map here in front of the newspaper office where the freckle-faced young man is laughing to us?
poem by Carl Sandburg
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Pablo Picasso
Well some people try to pick up girls
And get called assholes
This never happened to Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare and
So Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole
Well the girls would turn the color
Of the avocado when he would drive
Down their street in his El Dorado
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole
Not like you
Alright
Well he was only 5'3"
But girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole
Not in New York
Oh well be not schmuck, be not obnoxious,
Be not bellbottom bummer or asshole
Remember the story of Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole
Alright this is it
Some people try to pick up girls
And they get called an asshole
This never happened to Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare and so
Pablo Picasso was never called...
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Asshole
Your brains went black
When she took back her love
And put it out into the sun
The birds did fly
When the heavens all went dry
And the cigarettes were smoking by themselves
Shell do anything
Shell do anything
Shell do anything
To make you feel like an asshole
Call her name
She looks the same as you
With question-marks stretched across her skin
She dangles carrots
Makes you feel embarrassed
To be the fool you know you are
Shell do anything
Shell do anything
Shell do anything
To make you feel like an asshole
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How much money do you need to be happy?
How much money do you need to be happy?
Poor man
How much money should you have to be happy?
Greedy man
How much money do you want to be happy?
Thrifty man
How many men would you corrupt to have money?
Gentleman
How many people would you kill to get money?
Coward man
How many children would you exploit to make money?
Hungry man
How many laws would you break to be rich?
Dishonest man
How many illegal ways would you use to be wealthy?
Weak man
How many lies would you tell to gather money?
Sick man
How many friends would you betray to get money?
Thirsty man
How much damage would you cause to make money?
Blind man
How much power do you need to be proud?
Mad man
How much power do you need to lead the crowd?
Bad man
How much power do you require to kick the world?
Ugly man
How much power do you need to be satisfied?
Selfish man
How much power do you need to be happy?
Sad man
How much hate do you want to be famous?
Wrong man
How much hate do you need to stop massacres?
Dwarf man
How much sorrow do you want to love the other?
Fool man
How much misery do-you want to be happy?
Crazy man
poem by Bouche Cousue
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A-hole
When I came home my stuff was on the lawn
I thought she was happy
But I was wrong
The note she left it took me be suprise
Said I'd turned into
Some other guy
The things she says that she gave up for me
she says it was a waste of her time
Guess I dont really know
What I was thinking
Would have thought we would float
But we kept sinkin' in
Things were so good
You were in love
With some other guy
He looked just like me
But I make you cry
You know I dont mean to
I'm just an asshole sometimes
I never saw myself as being alone
And maybe that was my problem
Cause now shes gone
And I cant help but think of how things could be
And I hope shes happy
Happy without me
And all the things that she gave up for me
I took for granted time after time
Guess I dont really know
What I was thinking
Would have thought we would float
But we kept sinkin' in
Things were so good
You were in love
With some other guy
He looked just like me
But I make you cry
You know I dont mean to
I'm just an asshole sometimes
And please dont think I'm complaing
I was just happy to have her for a time
And if you see her I'll tell her I said
Hello and that I'm doin just fine
Guess I dont really know
What I was thinking
Would have thought we would float
But we kept sinkin' in
Things were so good (Things were so good)
You were in love (you were in love)
With some other guy (with some other guy)
He looked just like me (he looked just like me)
But I make you cry (but I make you cry)
You know I dont mean to no
you know i dont mean to
I'm just an asshole sometimes (X4)
Guess I'm an asshole sometimes
song performed by by Bowling For Soup
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Complicated Lifestyle.
a man's life is simple.
he has a routine, like this: house, office, house.
he gets bored, adds another place,
like house, office, park, mall, house,
waste of money, but a little interesting, he adds more
a friend's house, another house where he can be intimate with someone,
then sex, and games and romance and betrayal and use and sue and
lots of booze,
he retreats back to house, office, house,
but it is not the same again.
he sins, feels so broke, and
to a certain extent
attempts at suicide.
sad, but it can happen to you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fear fucked
A devastator
A mind fucker
A stimulant
A buffer
A war bringer
A killer
Now that I've implanted this
Do you feel the same way?
Do you embrace it?
Are you batman by heart?
Are you fearless?
Are you as mind fucked now as you are fear fucked by your own fear?
I'm Goona Copy
I’m surely gonna copy,
Be it poem, DVD or floppy,
And win Nobel Prize and trophy.
I will copy poets all
Whether they are big or small
Ya! No one can make me stop
Till I scale a fame’s highest top.
At the beginning of age
When God made men in his own image
He started this “Plagiarist” trend
Which I am not gonna end.
And what is creativity?
If not an ability to hide
a source of theft
with impunity.
When there is nothing
original under the sun,
Why should I copy not
and deprive myself of fun.
So I’ll copy them word by word
be they Pablo, Shakespeare or Wordsworth.
I’ll copy them from morn to evening
And would excel HITESH and Kipling.
Can you prove, they were not plagiarist,
And had not copy from some poet’s list.
You can inform FBI, KGB or CIA,
But I won’t stop my wanton ways.
And I will copy without shame,
Till I earn big name and fame.
I will copy till people start copying me,
And then and then only I will
give up this vice with glee.: -)
(This poem is a sequel to poem, “hay all you people that like to copy” written by Melissa Schreuder)
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
19/05/2009
poem by Hitesh Sheth
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The Gold Coast Sugar Daddies
On the Gold Coast are many 'sugar daddies'
From fifty upwards beyond the three score
You see them hand in hand with younger women
From nineteen, twenty up to twenty four.
You see them wearing wigs to hide their baldness
And they use hair dyes to cover their gray
But they can't seem to hide their big pot bellies
And that of course a natural give away.
You see them with the finest of young women
Quite beautiful and dressed to catch the eye
They snuggle up to their old sugar daddies
Not much of course that money cannot buy.
They seem so proud to be seen with young beauties
How vain and stupid some old men can be
These women only want them for their money
But for some strange reason this they cannot see.
These women do not love their sugar daddies
They only use them for financial gain
And how these old men can't tell true love from falseness
Is something way beyond me to explain.
It doesn't mean if you are older you are wiser
For wisdom to an old man can't be taught
They think young women love them not their money
But they forget that women can be bought.
Some women put money ahead of feelings
And to the weakness of wealthy older men they play
They lead the fool on further for his money
But women on a whole are not that way.
You always see them with the finest women
Young and beautiful and dressed to catch the eye
These ageing 'sugar daddies' of the Gold Coast
There is not much that money cannot buy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Think Im A Clone Now
Isnt it strange
Feels like Im lookin in the mirror
What would people say
If only they knew that I was
Part of some geneticists plan (plan-plan-plan)
Born to be a carbon copy man (man-man-man)
There in a petri dish late one night
They took a donors body cell and fertilized a human egg and so I say
I think Im a clone now
Theres always two of me just a-hangin around
I think Im a clone now
cause every chromosome is a hand-me-down
Look at the way
We go out walking close together
I guess you could say
Im really beside myself
I still remember how it began (gan-gan-gan)
They produced a carbon copy man (man-man-man)
Born in a science lab late one night
Without a mother or a father, just a test tube and a womb with a view
I think Im a clone now (a clone now)
Theres always two of me just a-hangin around
I think Im a clone now (a clone now)
cause every chromosome is a hand-me-down
I think Im a clone now (a clone now)
And I can stay at home while Im out of town
I think Im a clone now (a clone now)
cause every pair of genes is a hand-me-down
Signing autographs for my fans
Come and meet the carbon copy man
Livin in stereo, its all right
Well I can be my own best friend and I can send myself for pizza so I say
I think Im a clone now
Another one of mes always hangin around
I think Im a clone now
cause every chromosome is a hand-me-down
I think Im a clone now (a clone now)
Ive been on oprah winfrey - Im world renowned
I think Im a clone now (a clone now)
And every pair of genes is a hand-me-down
I think Im a clone now (a clone now)
Thats my genetic twin always hangin around
I think Im a clone now (a clone now)
cause every chromosome is a hand-me-down
I think Im a clone now (a clone now)
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hiddin
Thinking about you
Every memory runs through my mind
Everytime I remember how much you love me kills me more
Because im trying to keep a smile on my face
so everyone thinks im okay
well no oneneeds to know how fucked up I really am
But just because I smile doesnt mean I dont feel pain
All I can say is how much I miss her
the girl that stole my heart
is the girl that I hurt
well no one needs to know how fucked up I really am
hiddin by bleach blonde hair and a geeeky smile
no one understands the kind of pain I feel
because im hiddin behind a smile
poem by Morgan Ederer
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