A MORONIC SEXUAL COUNSELOR—DE BLASIO
When a mayor governs to the left
He leads in one direction and runs off the road
Into the bushes of failed psychopathic ideology.
He is unidirectional, monotone,
A failed hulk.
His principles are a broken odometer’s
De Blasio married two gays
And he is proud of this.
I guess his being married to a lesbian gives him a soft
Spot for oxymorons.
He is a sponge.
He sucks up liberal dirt from his drain.
I am homophobic.
I am a bigoted idiot.
At least I’m not a robber or a serial killer.
At least I am not debasing New YorkCity.
I’m another opinion that doesn’t matter.
I am the sharp light in a progressive’s
I wake up in the morning
And I am glad that I love one woman
And that I am the also rising sun
Of the history of heterosexuality;
That I do not approve
Of a fabricated juncture,
That I do not belittle man by canoodling
With a man.
I am not one-sided.
I think that all men are disgusting.
I don’t know why women get off on us.
I hate men
And I hate women who like them.
But I forgive women.
I don’t understand them
But can see the magnets in the underwear
Of the opposite sexes.
Why don’t women see how gays undermine
Their position in society.
If men marry men who will women marry?
Women are undermining their own economics.
De Blasio looks like a pastrami sandwich—
All gas lathered with mustard sentiments.
He is stupid.
He is fat on meat.
In my teens my friend told me he rolled fags
In the village for money.
I told him that was disgusting
But it wasn’t as bad as same sex marriage
Which has received the sanctity of acceptance
Liberals don’t even know that
They get nauseous looking at gays kissing
Until they see the vomit on their shoes.
When I was a kid we made fun of queers.
Their effeminate gestures and slurpy voices.
Not to their faces.
I didn’t want to hurt them
But they were yucky,
The gays can change our speech but not our instincts.
Now gays want to deny this
And be proud
Of their evolved deformities.
I wish I didn’t have to disapprove of them,
I don’t like being a dickhead,
But they keep dropping their intellectual pants
And displaying their whiny, Full Monte.
I don’t want to see their cards.
I don’t want to play their hand.
I want to follow Cleopatra across the Nile
Not Marc Anthony.
I’m not going to apologize for what I am
As I don’t ask gays to say sorry for their penchants.
Leave me alone.
Don’t pontificate like De Blasio.
The limits of intelligence are outlined by the bluster