Foibles & Favors

from Graduates Rise

Foibles & Favors Poetry Zine

Features 59 poems written by Dr. Cyn Corrigible, Songstress for Graduates Rise.

Purchase this zine for $2.00 (plus shipping and handling) and receive a signed copy in the mail.

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Dr. Cyn is a confessional poet using haikus, sonnets, and free verse. Foibles & Favors includes poems about love, sex, and hypocrisy. Examples include:


black hole big bang begs
your head is the universe
while between my legs


an atypical night i feel your force
faces now found with flesh still left to chance
your bedroom eyes are what’s setting the course
we both look young for not being the band
let’s listen quietly and just hold hands
energy through skin passion emboldens
bodies begging from the very first glance
no need for words leave them all unspoken
you want me to bite your lip i know it
and touch your body just to hear you moan
predicted rules find themselves now broken
because on this night you won’t sleep alone
tout simplement i’ll please your every whim
call me on sunday we’ll go for a swim


the past is written in stone
on paper and on cellulose or
scarred into meaningless hunks of protoplasm
in the clumsy scrawl of man
to be reproduced as art or theory or religion
written in a fine hand on parchment
translated into 72 languages and bound in leather
and kept in an air tight chamber
defining humanity from unactualized dreams
as described by a glutton in rose colored glasses
shifting reality to a distortion
that simulates logic in lieu of chaotic volition
and this soothes our restless minds
that aren’t brave enough to hear our hearts
this produces retching upon sight or smell
of the untruths and misconceptions
being sold as the present
so much that we reach for anything
to sweeten this consumption of lies
and disguise the smell of vomit on our breath
and we are blinded by the dissonance
our heritage of fear and guilt
this is also written in stone
or on some other fortuitous scrap of matter
hastily scribbled in blood or tears or bile
from the dying gasps of prophets
whose seemingly insane ramblings are hidden
within the gilded volumes of doubt
and we are all blind anyway
so the glutton is satisfied for today
full on the flesh of the lambs we slaughter
whose piled up corpses continue to hide
the deception we can’t quite stomach

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