Chamblee54

I was fixing up an old post, Cemetery Blues. I went looking for a link to Dead Poets Remembrance Day, and I found an amusing comment from Annie Finch: “Unlike my recent “Kegels for Poets” post, this one is completely for real.”
I decided to look for KFP. Google and DuckDuckGo did not have a link. Finally, I found Exercises in improving the poetic orgasm… . This is one of the funnier ‘poetry’ blogs I’ve come across in a while…kinda old but still super cute…enjoy :) With the help of the Wayback Machine, I found KFP.
KFP turned out to be satire, and not especially funny. “The Poetry Muscle exercises known as Meter Kegels have many advantages. They are best known to help strengthen and tone the whole poetic floor to prevent things like linguistic incontinence during middle age.” I think I know why the original was deleted. The good news is the poems I found during the google search. … Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. John Collier took the social media picture in June 1942. “Escambia Farms, Florida. Truck loading eggs from cooperative association for market in Miami”

The Edgelord & His Meme Queen @StoutOfOrder
Sex starved and aging badly
Too many cigarettes and ‘dank ass weed’
Bad tattoos and facial hair so scraggly
He’s called in sick to work all week

He set his high score four years ago
But she broke his heart last June
Now he’s stuck in his parents basement
Doing speed runs on Halo 2

She has no cash to feed her cats
But she bought two wigs on Monday
She dresses up like anime girls
And thinks she’ll be famous someday

She’ll tell you she’s just keeping it real
While dressed like someone from science fiction
She meets the boy at some comic con
And they go to her hotel room to make friction …
Edgelords and meme queens
Addicted to the obscene
Spewing hateful words
With no care for what they mean

It seems that even the regals
Are doing their kegels

Kegels by Laura S. Marshall
the older i get the more i need to practice
conversation conflict containment
when cooking i set out the spices before i
start catalogue the measuring cups trace
the characters in the recipes in the mirror
i chant your name chant my own in the
shower for a month and a half i forget
what cinder blocks are called i forget
to collect the mail the mailbox tilts
at obscene angles obscures itself with
snow its red flag lolling letters leaking
i know this medicine won’t let me be
hungry so i practice hunger too i time
myself it’s three o’clock it’s time for
something three unleashes four and five
releases me to the murk of dusk before i
go to sleep i line up my pills so
in the morning i’ll remember

Even When I Win I Lose by Mike Lef
Sitting here in an adult diaper,
‘cancer free’ I’m told. Thumbing through
a booklet of kegel exercises
for men, this.

After nine long years, in and out of
specialist offices, batting around my prostate
like a handball.

I knew it would come to this from the get-go,
but foolishly fooled myself into believing otherwise,
cause.
Even when I win I lose,
that’s just
the way it is…….
©Luther Mckinnon 2026 · selah