DEDICATED TO
Philip G. Taylor, the tightest, most poetry poet in poetry class, who died
The regulars at the Brown Banana Books open mic
Ethan Coen (of The Coen Brothers)
Anyone who likes stupid shit
FUNERAL SPEECH
I’ll tell you this much about Katie:
She was quite the promiscuous lady
She sometimes had sex
That was very complex
But she never had sex with a baby
TO THE TUNE OF “ONE” BY HARRY NILSSON
X is the sexiest letter in the alphabet
Q is not as hot as X
But in fact it looks a little more like sex
GOLD MEDALIST
What scientists wanted to find was
What the smallest dick of all time was
They found, in a thicket
A small baby cricket
But his dick was bigger than mine was
PARANOID
A nosy young wife was suspecting
Her businessman husband of sexting
Indeed, texts were found
But her fears proved unsound
It was only his friend, Jeffrey Epstein
MISCOMMUNICATION
At Burning Man once, in a tent
I was fucked in the ass by George Wendt
My wife, just that morn
Had yelled “fuck the Norms!”
But now says that’s not what she meant
NAPA ROOTS
I put grapes in her butt (that’s amore!)
Lie naked, supine, in the foyer
She squats o’er my face and
North Cali wine tastin’
Is what we call step number 4A
FUNERAL SPEECH #2
Playing “cookie game” once, drunk on rum
Fearing I would be last man to cum
I pictured your mom
Now she has passed on
But I think she’d be proud that I won
META CRITIC
Little Jack Horny
Lay there forlornly
With an old man 69ing
He stuck out his tongue
Got blasted with cum
And said “why’s it all icky rhyming?”
THE RHYMING POET’S LAMENT
Limericks and pinner dicks:
They say there’s correlation
Vaginas treat a rhymer
Like a hostile foreign nation
My texts are full of sex
But the narrator’s not trusted
When I write and recite some
To a girl for whom I’ve lusted
My wordplay’s met with mockery
Derision, smirks and hate
The word gay’s used a lot on me
By those who surf and skate
But who’s more insecure:
The person getting mad at art
Or this old dirty wordsmith
With a song inside his heart?
Long ago I made my choice
That’s why I’m walking tall
Rejoicing in my voice, now
But it’s true, my dick is small
IT’S THE MOTION OF THE OCEAN, NOT...
The complexion of the erection
The viscosity of the atrocity
The immensity of the gents in me
The brevity of the levity
The BPM of the DP men
The diameter of the man in her
The amount of air in the dinghy
OPPOSITES ATTRACT
I know an old hippie named Rosco
Who hangs out at rock shows, and rock shows
His weed is sativa
His shoe is a Teva
But his wife is indica/Chaco
SIMPLE MAN
I don’t need to see dildos or plugs
While performing my manual tugs
I can still get a thrill
From a sight as vanill’
As a girl in a cage eating slugs
BOI-OI-OING
My friend told me, while drunk on Coors
That the male sex organ of boars
Is shaped like a corkscrew
And sounds, when they pork you
Like those springs that save walls from doors
CASTAWAY
A wonderful bird is the pelican
I just shot one with my pellet gun
First I shall eat
The sweet pelican meat
Then I’ll have sex with the skeleton
WEDDING VOWS
My dick’s like a tick’s, or mosquito’s
Slight in even the tightest of Speedos
But one look in your eyes
Can expand it in size
From a munchkin’s to Danny DeVito’s
THE SASSY WAITRESS
I yelled at a waitress named Ronnette
To hurry and make me an omelette
She filled my poor asshole
With so much Tobasco
The whole Hooter’s wait staff applauded
THE SOUNDCLOUD RAPPER GROUPIE'S LAMENT
Due, I think, to the drugs they ingest
The loving’s not always the best
We have dirty sex
For 1 min, 30 secs
Then their penises get quite depressed
HALLOWEEN (2007)
In a field where the crows never caw
I touched a girl under the bra
The ultimate thrill
But she stood super still
And her tits felt a lot like wet straw
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jesse Wilson is the CEO of Brown Banana Books in Grass Valley, CA (brownbananabooks.com). He enjoys reading, writing, freestyle rapping, freestyle swimming, hanging out with friends and watching adult films on his computer.
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