Math for Girls: A Cancelled Course

Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia Plath

Left her socks on in the bath

Taught her own uterus how to do math

Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia Plath

Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia Plud

Dug for worms in dried-up mud

Six times nine and the answer’s blood

Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia Plud

Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia Plo

Tied a kite to a croak-eyed crow

Six times nine is an embry-o

Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia Plo

Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia Plate

Used her thumb as salmon bait

Six times nine is a neonate

Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia Plate

Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia Plume

Pooped in Tutankhamen’s tomb

Six times nine is an empty womb

Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia Plume

Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia Ploor

Head in the oven, feet on the floor

Six times nine is fifty-four

Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia Ploor

Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia died

Sylvia, Sylvia soo-ih-side

Sylvia’s uterus then applied

To teach Math for Girls (but was denied).

I'm Just A Sweet Old Lunatic

I’m just a sweet old lunatic

Oh won’t you take me in?

I’m a harmless little psycho

With a pimple on my chin.

I’ve got no place to sleep tonight

You’ve got an extra couch

And I can tell you’re friendly

From your squint-eyes and your slouch.

And so I think I’ll follow you

To your apartment door

You haven’t got a couch?

Oh well, I’ll sleep upon the floor

You won’t regret inviting me

I’m gentle as a cat

I don’t need much to eat
Just one small cockroach or a rat.

I’m just a sweet old lunatic

I’ll keep your pests at bay

Oh will you, won’t you, pretty please?

Oh won’t you let me stay?

You won’t? Why not? Don’t tell me:

It’s the pimple on my chin!

You think that it’s the devil’s mark!

A pustule made of sin!

Why, you’re an old religious fool!

Well, if I only knew!

Who needs you, huh? Who brought you here?

You ignoramus you!

And what’s more, you’re….oh wait

I see. You’re just a knobby stick.

I shouldn't trust my eyes

I’m just a sweet old lunatic.

A Fun New Rhyming Medical Pamphlet

What’s in my lovely birthday box
All wrapped in pink and yellow?
Is it a brand-new radio?
A copy of Othello?
No! It’s cancer!

What’s in my porcelain sipping-mug
That looks so steamy-hot?
Could it be coffee, tea or
Warm milk chocolate that I’ve got?
No! It’s cancer!

What’s in the snout of Rudolph
That shines so bright it glows?
Could it be Santa’s magic
That illuminates his nose?
No! It’s cancer!

Why does the Easter Bunny-man
Stuff all his eggs with candy?
Is it the children’s eager eyes
That make him act so dandy?
No! It’s cancer!

What makes the dolphin flip and leap
Above the salty ocean?
Is it a love of splashing
That propels his glorious motion?
No! It’s cancer!

Why does the songbird chirp a tune
While floating on her wings?
Is it because, when given lungs,
The Great Creator sings?
No! It’s cancer!
 

Why did my doctor do those tests

And then give me this poem?

I wish he hadn’t. I’m confused.

I think I’ll just go home.

The Great Green Goo Man Geekled

The great green goo man geekled

“Gizdom fee, fuzz guzzled gum!”

Atop the wikky-wikky tree

Oh wrinkled! Giblet! Fum!

The ticky-tacky tim tum tap

That toed his tizzled tongue

Derived the meat ma-goona

When the winter wonkle dummed.

“BO HO!” cried great green goo man

“Guz you wut, the wim-wam zum?”

But nay, the izlet fizdom

Hooped the winskies

Every one.