About That Last Post

Hey ladies (and other adoring fans),
I wish you all the very best.
After reading that last post you may be wondering
Was I serious or writing in jest.

Let me explain, I'm not a spy,
And the story behind that post goes like this:
It was written by a hacker named Vladimir—who has absolutely nothing to do with a Russian
Intelligence agency that is trying to blow my cover—because none of that exists.

I apologize for any confusion this may have caused
Or I at least hope I've now made things clear.
If not, you should stop by some time so I can erase your memor—I mean, talk you through it
And make the confusion disappear.

True Confessions

Hi everyone, I've something to tell you:
Although you probably thought I'm a pretty normal guy,
You don't know the truth about the life that I live—

The danger, the intrigue. You see, I'm a spy.

Bipolarized

It's days like these that make me sad—
Not that rain and clouds are bad,
Or sun and shine are so much better,
For I enjoy all types of weather—

But when the sky is overcast
I long for the sun to show at last
For then can I be twice as cool
And wear my sunglasses without looking like a fool.

Only in a Perfect World

I start to take a calculus test—the questions soon surprise me.

Not one is harder than 3+3!

I'm so excited I could scream...

And then I awaken from my dream.

Writer's Apocalypse

What would happen if spell-check crashed,

And all writer's hopes of correct spelling were dashed?

If this tool died on which men depend,

This surely then would be the end.

The mortified writer's would soon loose their minds

And transform into zombies of a terrible kind,

Morning the loss of their beloved friend.

This surely then would be the end.