Satires on Suicidal Tendancies I, II, and III

DISCLAIMER:

The following poems are badly written, and could be very offensive if

taken out of the context of political satire. These are merely for

entertainment. This author holds the belief that nothing is taboo and

anything can have a humorous twist, so take these lightly and laugh your

ass off if you feel so compelled.

A Satire on Suicidal Tendencies I

This morning I scorched my pancakes. A meaningless mistake, But what I could see In those blackened cakes, three, Was a reason to never again wake.

I wanted to end my existence To continue was pointless to me. My A.M. sustenance, Like my life, went bust, and hence Do you slash horizon, or vertically?

No beliefs, no relief, cavities in my teeth Aesthetically challenged, point being: If I couldn't make breakfast Then my life was a wreck, rest Was in suicide, the end of my feeling.

I ran the water into my tub Toaster plugged in next to me, Set two slices to toast, And got ready to roast, The appliance would set my soul free

But before I could finish the job, Golden toast popped up with a crunch. I jumped out and ate my breakfast hastily, Let me tell you that the toast was quite tasty. Suicide would have to wait until lunch.

A Satire on Suicidal Tendencies II

While my toast, my stomach digesting My brain thinks something quite interesting. The toast was not intended Without it, my life ended. Divine intervention? It needed some testing.

So I took out my suicide implements, Gun, noose, razor, and very strong peppermints. I tied up the noose, Round my neck, not too loose. *Door knock* "Oh shit its my parents!"

I jumped off of my perch Toward the floor, then a lurch! I'd forgotten to cut myself free. So there I was dangling, Soon a victim of hanging. I thought "whatever, c'est la vie."

But then a thought crept into my brain, It derailed my suicide train. If I didn't respond to the knock, I'd be grounded, right as a clock. So with the razor I cut, Landing right on my butt. I opened the door for my parents.

"It was noon, so we brought you back lunch. Not too soon, otherwise t'would be brunch!" They gave me the sack, And turned me their backs, Leaving me and proving my hunch.

So I sat and my lunch began eating, Self-ending thoughts again fleeting, Couldn't zap or hang, Suicide not my thing, One last try at my dinner meeting.

A Satire on Suicidal Tendencies III

Zoloft & Buspar, maybe three more Xanax, Effixor, Codone, and a pound of Prozac. All Vicadin does is leave my brain fried, The only peace I can find is in suicide.

I could swallow nitro-glycerin, and jump from a tree, Blow up from the inside, full of Pop Rocks, & Pepsi. Sew up my mouth, grow thinner and thinner, And die of malnutrition, never mind time for dinner.

As I sat and counted the peas on my plate, I finally decided that I could control my fate! I looked across the table at my momma and my pop, Their two oblivious smiles made my depressed thought stream stop.

My momma looked at me an asked, "What did you do today?" "If you only knew," methinks myself, but nothing I did say. I was too consumed by happiness, of my milk, I took a drink, But I died and hit the floor, before a response I could think

After all of my attempts and suicidal contemplation, I must assure you all that I died without intention. I will say I'm kind of bitter, all that time I had spent, My end was an accident, learning that I was lactose intolerant.