Inclement Anger: A Poetic Rant

Nearly every week I speak in prose
Which is something I’d love to rhyme with “ho’s”
But I’ll keep it tasteful, this isn’t a rap
So there’s no room for hookers. Or racism, and all that crap.

In this week’s topic we’ll involve the Canucks
And their apparent affinity for Olympic pucks.
Our performance against them was, twice over, rocky
Which would bother me greatly if I cared about hockey.

What I would like to speak of concerns Canadians as well
And it is with their help that we must rebel.
For Mother Nature has bent us over,
And packed our chocolate like Russell Stover.

Now with unfortunate sodomy jokes aside,
We must draft weather rules to which all shall abide.
For when Mother Nature has her way,
We must not put our stupidity on display.

The past week has dumped rain and dumped snow,
But it is not for this fact that I fill with woe.
My real reason for ranting, for all my despair,
Comes more with how we all deal with such an affair.

First look at snow, which is undoubtedly spread
From the drying skin on the Almighty’s head.
Much like when thunderstorms crash all about
Like Asian people driving.

Just kidding.

Sort of.

But back to the snow, which piles on cars,
While inside we listen to our NPRs
We do our best to remove it, yet many do not,
And a failure to do so makes my blood boil hot.

Now a snow-covered roof makes you seem many things
And from all of them my road rage causes me to sing:
“You’re short,” “You’re a douche,” “You’re inherently lazy,”
So be careful or you’ll be Departed like Martin Scorsese.

When your car hits high speeds and the snowpack comes loose
It becomes clear to me that you’re very obtuse
And when your snow hits my car I wish upon you abuse
In my eyes you’re no better than my morning deuce.

Switching our focus we look now at rain
And the accessories we use to keep us sane.
During storms the umbrellas do clutter the streets
But their owners know not my anger when the two of us meet.

I walk past in my rain jacket, my hood ‘round my noggin,
Little do you know you resemble Kenny Loggins
For when your umbrella strikes me you’ve thrown the first stone.
It’s on now, bitch. You’re in the Danger Zone.

What is so complex about your umbrella’s dimensions?
What must I do to get your attention?
I don’t wish for your metal frame to hook onto my ear
Or scratch in my cornea like a rain-soaked spear.

So next time an umbrella attacks my head
I assure you your next feeling will be one of dread
For I will snatch your umbrella and be tempted to stab
But instead simply throw it under a moving cab.

Because stabbing would be a gross overreaction…

It feels good to get all of this off my mind
For so long these thoughts have been too confined.
But now that they’re out, you all have been warned
And my feelings on the matter have been repeatedly scorned

So test me if you feel that you have the balls,
But just know, if you do, you’re killin’ me, Smalls.