my friend told me that she wears gold bracelets because she believes she was cleopatra in her past life
says she has nightmares where she is weeping for the death of marc antony
or that she is rolled up in a carpet being smuggled into caesar’s palace
she tells me it’s where she gets her fire from

i told her that i suspect in my past life i was steve gordman, an overweight mustachioed used car salesman from duluth, minnesota in the late 1970s
at times, i wake up in the middle of the night, and i swear my clothes smell like exhaust fumes and fried chicken
i believe this is where my mediocre selling abilities come from

i mean
that’s the thing about past lives, guys
if they’re a thing, they’re not always gonna be winners

sometimes you’re cleopatra
and sometimes you’re steven gordman
used car salesman from duluth, minnesota




i was wastey-faced
and walking to a bus
from the light rail
the bus was pulling up
right when i got there
but i knew i couldn’t get on
because out of nowhere
i urgently needed to take a shit

i knew it wasn’t going to be
one of those formal shits
where everything goes smoothly
you flush
you wash your hands
and you move on with your life

i had the civil war
muskets and torches
in the swamps of alabama
raging inside of me

this was urgent
all of a sudden
nothing else mattered

i swear to god
if anyone came between me
and the nearest toilet
i would have snapped their neck
like it was nothing

across the parking lot
there was a coffee shop
i b-lined through the cars
and rampaged to the door

it was cold outside
i wasn’t dressed warm enough
and a demon child
was clawing around my bowels

i found a hair salon
that was still open
but it was empty
and all i could imagine
was my garbage disposal magnum opus
echoing through the clinical corridors
of the empty building

across the way
like a shining beacon of hope
ned kelly’s
a hole-in-the-wall irish pub
i ran over

(and by “ran”
i mean that awkward
power walk nonsense
beads of sweat
freezing to my face.)
i scurried in.

i was met by a bartender
and a bar full of people
every stool filled
as i ran by
my eyes averted
the bartender said to me
the bathroom is for
customers only!”

i paid him no regard
i had no regard to give him
i bolted into the stall
oblivious to everything around me

the stall was 110 degrees hot
it was just a toilet and walls
there wasn’t even a sink
just a soap dispenser on the wall
outside of the bathroom stall
i heard someone performing
nickelback karaoke
in the key of gutteral noises

as soon as i sat down
my pants were around my ankles
and hallelujah holy hell
that was a good moment
and as my life flashed
before my bloodshot tired eyes
there was the sound of footsteps
outside of the bathroom stall
heavy, like a bear’s drunken groans
being muttered on the other side
of the stall
as nickelback played on

there was a hole in the door
and the ogre on the other side
peaked his devil’s eye through it
and began shaking at the door
i swear the whole stall shook with it
the moans and the groans continues
as i was reborn of the toilet

when i’d finished my business
i utilized a metric ton
of toilet paper
to try and clean up
the murder scene
i lifted my pants
and promptly exited
the bar.

the end.




Not my usual poetry, but my friends and I recently made a short comedy film called “Bromance,” parodying cologne and perfume commercials. Written and directed by Kate Kelly. Starring myself, Logan Custer, Kevin Lynam on vocals. Shawn Sloan camera work and special recognition to Grace Job. Check it out:

If you enjoyed this, take a second and follow our youtube page. We will be releasing more comedy videos in the future!


Me and my dear friend, Logan Custer, decided to make a page for Rant The Ant on Facebook, where we’ll post funny pictures, memes, etc. Help us grow the page and LIKE US ON FACEBOOK!




ant guitar


To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing this amidst deepest woe and a puddle of tears. Recently Mr. F.J. Collins of Wiltshire, England has passed away. As a life-long companion, and personal accountant, of Mr. Collins, I know it was his dying wish to have his large fund of money dispersed to a stand-out person such as yourself. Mr. Collins’ bank account funds, surmounting to over 200000000000 pounds, will be transferred to you, as stated explicitly in his will, pending your return e-mail. To accept, please send a return e-mail with your legal name, social security number, bank account number, job history, a picture of you, your first born child and your darkest secrets.

Thank you,

Connie Bristow, Esq.
Accountant and Very Trustworthy Person