The mystery surrounding two Northwest Airlines pilots who overflew Minneapolis by 150 miles took a startling turn tonight with the revelation that they were using their laptops to access Wordsmoker when they should have been preparing to land the aircraft.  This rumor, which had been circulating for days on Gawker, a once-popular media blog, can now be confirmed based on information gleaned from multiple sources, including leaked cockpit recordings.

What an emotional week it’s been for all of us!  I, for one, sat glued to my television set, praying to God that Balloon Boy would make his journey safely back to earth.

It’s times like these that we remember the mysterious ways of God and how we, as Americans, can band together in times of great uncertainty.  I, for one, am proud to live in a country as great as ours.  My American brothers and sisters, I thank you for traveling with me down this tortuous road we call life.  I am honored to be your sister, your mother, your friend.

Ooooh, Kanye fucked up again!  When is that boy going to learn?  And where in the FUCK is Daisy Simpson?  WHAT IS GOING ON?

In tough times like these, it’s nice to have drugs you can turn to for comfort. 

Hello, fans and readers! I was hoping to come up with some special name for you guys in the vein of the Mouseketeers, but it would take a thousand poets working for a thousand years to do that.

I’ve been thinking about totally ditching my old style and breaking into beat poetry.  It’s so much cooler, and I would probably be the longest-living beat poet ever.  I mean, what’s not to love?  All that tired imagery of breastfeeding and clitorii and raping penes and Masai warriors is really becoming a buzzkill.  And I’m not too thrilled about all the middle-aged bourgeois white women who have taken such a liking to my work over the past decade or so.  That Hillary shit was all for them, y’all, and it was my publicist’s idea anyway.

Let’s do this.

Hello, my loyal band of Maya Maniacz!  Who’s got Mayan fever?  That’s right.  

It’s almost three in the morning, but I’m fine.  I got some pills from a trucker that make it so I don’t need sleep anymore.  Isn’t that awesome?  Now I’m finally going to get around to organizing my Tom Selleck scrapbooks.  Yes, those scrapbooks got me through a lot of cold, lonely nights.

Did you know that even Maya Angelou sometimes makes mistakes when she’s writing these poems that y’all can’t seem to get enough of?  Yea, like the young virgin on her wedding night, fresh with the dew of anticipation, I make my share of embarrassing blunders.  But there are tools to help one fix these blunders, and my very favorite of all is Wite-Out.

Well, hello! I am Maya Angelou, poet, historian, civil rights activist, Wiccan High Priestess and proud Discover cardmember.  I have been up all night drinking Malibu and Diet Cokes, and the computer keys are a bit blurry, but I think you all need a poem to recharge your batteries.  Did you know that some states don’t even believe in daylight savings time?  Crazy.  Anyway, this week I’ve decided to write a poem about one of those simple, basic sustaining elements that we take for granted in our everyday lives–the granola they sell in bulk for $2.99 a pound at Fred Meyer.

Fred Meyer used to exist in Utah, but for some reason they don’t anymore.  I wonder why that is?  Anyway, they’re alive and well in Oregon, and they sell this granola for $2.99 a pound that is just delicious.

The Granola They Sell In Bulk For $2.99 a Pound At Fred Meyer
by Maya Angelou

Sweet nourishing grains
Harvested from mother earth
By a proud people
A people who believe in
Providing succor
For a nation of Fred Meyer shoppers.
Encased here in this plastic bin
Listed at $3.29 a pound.
But what’s this?
A slightly cheaper variety?
But what if I want Pumpkin Flax Crisp
versus
Maple Brown Sugar Sunrise
Why must my particular nutritional needs
Be taxed an additional thirty cents?
What has maple brown sugar done
For my respective zinc and Omega 3 deficiencies?
Fuck you,
Fred Meyer
I will have my Pumpkin Flax Crisp
But the number I’ll mark
That numerical designation
Which can make raw organic cashews into
white rice
will be 90722
The same number as your Maple Brown Sugar Sunrise
That you wag before me
Like a proud man bearing his penis
And hope that I’ll take the bait.
And the recalcitrant flax and pumpkin seeds
Indocile and strong
They won’t say a word to your
Minimum wage checkout person
Smoking their sticky buns from a Sprite can
While listening to Bloc Party
And watching YouTube.
That grocery Gestapo
will not see these refugees
that I sneak past enemy lines
and into my car
and I will sneak them home
where they will be safe
and live inside me
forever.

Hello, all my Wordsmoker daughters and daughterinos!  It’s so good to be back.  Mama Maya decided to take a vacay and help a gay ex-Mormon friend of hers work on his memoirs.  I also found some time to check out this internet thing.  There sure are a lot of ways to have sex!

This week’s Monday Morning Maya was actually suggested to her by the good people over at Urlesque.  Now I don’t usually take requests, especially from people who can’t be bothered to get my name right, as I find plenty of things in my life about which I can be jubilant without help, but this product is so great, so embracing of the goddess spirit within me, that I couldn’t help but sing its praises.

Now, I couldn’t find a “slanket”, as they called it, but I did manage to get my hands on a Snuggie, which is just as good, right?  After $19.95 (plus $7.95 shipping and handling) and 2-6 week for delivery, I found myself wrapt in the most luxurious robes befitting a goddess like myself.

This is my hymn to those robes.

Snuggie
By Maya Angelou

Rich Burgundy fleece enshrines my temple
Caresses every inch of it with
Transcendent softness
My hands now liberated
To do what they will
as I watch my Tivo’d “That’s So Raven”.
That is so Raven.
Yet, as my mind slips away
and my body melts into
folds of milky smooth comfort
I’m transported away from this couch
Away from this television
And into the secret cave of the Pagan high priest
Fire aglow
A just-deflowered virgin
Glistening in its warmth
Asleep.
She shudders as her dreams take her back
Back to that moment of penetration
That moment that her body and that of
Goddess Gaia
Became one
And she became mother of all civilization.
We are all latched to her breast.
And just as the High Priest felt
The warm, nurturing softness of her
Goddess chakra
I feel as though in her womb.
I am that fertile seed planted within
Waiting to leap forth and discover
Life’s rich splendors, ecstasies, atrocities,
Fears, triumphs, genocides
and coups.
But for now, rest.

Hello!

Good morning, my fresh-faced followers!

Hello my daughters and boy-daughters.

by Adam Maya Angelou

Hello, all of you phenomenal daughters out there! I’ve just learned why the caged bird really sings. No, it’s not something schmultzy… it’s because even caged birds can’t get enough of Jimmy Dean’s Chocolate Chip Pancakes and Sausage on a stick! I first stumbled upon this culinary curiosity in one of my local Wal-Mart Supercenters. “What’s this?” I asked, as I pulled the frosty box from its icy prison and held it in my hand. Little did I know I was about to embark on a breakfast adventure unlike any I’d ever had!

Well hello! I’m Maya Angelou, poet, playwright, historian, civil rights activist and Costco® Platinum™ Member. I’m here on another fine Monday morning to read you a poem about one of my favorite products or companies. Did you know that Mama Maya just loves to cook and clean? To quote Marge Simpson, when Virginia Woolf said that every woman needs a room of her own, she must have meant the kitchen. Anywho, Mama Maya needs to go drop a deuce, so let’s get this over with.

Whoo-ee, Children! Mama Maya partied a bit too hard last night. Never accept a Chaser tablet from a complete stranger, I’ll tell you that right now! In this weekly column, I, Maya Angelou, take time out of my busy schedule to read to you a poem I’ve written about my favorite products and services. But let’s make this quick–I have an Oprah appearance, a University lecture, the inauguration ceremony for some stupid country… I think it’s in Africa or something, and a Bat Mitzvah to get to all before my dinner date with Jennifer Aniston.

Well hello! I’m Maya Angelou– poet, historian, civil rights activist, and Wiccan priestess. I’m not here to read you dirty passages from Craigslist. Rather, I’m here to share with you the poems I’ve written about my favorite products and services. This week, I’ve written about a product whose miracles have gone unsung for far too long.

I speak, of course, of Nair.

For quite a while now, we’ve been writing product promotion poems in the style of Maya Angelou.  This meme was started by David Allen Greer on Saturday Night Live oh so many years ago.  We carry on this noble tradition even today.

For this week’s Monday Morning Maya, I give you everyone’s favorite vacuum-enhancer: Carpet Fresh.