Today we revive a dormant tradition here at I Blame the Patriarchy, the tradition of showcasing blamer poetry, which tradition is dormant only because nobody has put a pome in the comments in a while. This one is particularly fine. It’s a goddam sonnet.
August 4, 2010 at 1:01 pm
Ask her nothing, dudely dudes, for she
before all else does thee in truth despise.
Do not protest thy honesty. Twisty
knows well the lies thy phallus signifies.
Aloft above her ranch the boiling hawks
the smallish, brownish birds and mice do hunt,
while Twisty Jill o’er interwebs doth stalk
the stupid man who dares her wield her gun.
Do not, dear dudes, assume sincerity
will shield thee from the spit of her contempt.
She can to thee attribute no real parity.
Your penis by itself leaves you exempt.
Tremble then, dear man, before you post,
or your head surrender to her cruelty’s boast.