Newamba issues a warning

Punch You in the Face


The next time I see you

I’m going to punch you in the face

Don’t ask me why
I’m not really sure
It could be that thing you said to me a long time ago
That I forgot and you can’t recall
But, nonetheless, it pissed me off

Maybe it’s because you like that song My Humps by the Black Eyed Peas
Maybe it’s because you talk too much during movies
Or possibly it pertains to the peculiar sound you make when you eat

Perhaps it’s the way you look in a hat
Perhaps it’s the things you say to my cat
(I’m glad she always hisses and scratches you)

Whatever it is
I’m going to punch you in the face
And I’ll record it and upload it to the internet, too
So you and everyone
Will know and will see
That you got punched in the face
Punched in the face
By me

* Newamba Flamingo was born and raised on a chicken farm in the Florida Keys by a suicidal cult of transvestite prostitutes who dressed up in gorilla suits and played loud Polka music from distorted speakers at all hours of the night. After escaping the chicken farm, he was taken hostage by an Elvis impersonator that forced him at gunpoint to write poetry. He was later able to flee from the Elvis impersonator and now wanders the streets of South Beach in a purple tutu, spitting out bizarre poems as he pleases. His work has been published and featured at 10K Poets, BadWriter, NC Lowbrow, MySpace, EveryPoet.Net, PoemHunter, and various toilet stalls across Florida.


  1. Anonymous

    I like your poem but your bio is even more interesting. I guess its true. Its never too late to have a happy childhood.

  2. Anonymous

    Thanks, Lani. I like transvestites and all, but when they keep you up at all hours of the night with Polka music it gets annoying. I'm much happier now roaming the streets of South Florida in my tutu.

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