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werdercanuck
Posts: 1562
Location: Pot Capital of Canada (BC)
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 Posted: Sat, 21st Jan 2006 22:58 Post subject: Poems |
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here are a few Poems (not by me) 
Circus Love
"Last call" announced the barkeep and then their eyes did meet,
Betty the bearded lady and Tom the four inch freak.
Tom lowered his voice and made a pass "What are you doin later?",
Betty though as she stroke her beard "Nothing sweet potater".
People pointed, jokes were made but it fell on four deaf ears,
Tom thrust' his tiny shoulders back and ignored the painful cheers.
"Betty" he said "the world can be such a cruel, unfair place",
she said "I know my little pumpkin" and kissed his tiny face.
She carried him through the parking lot to the woods that lay beyond,
never before had either felt such an instant common bond.
"Betty" he said gazing down at his tiny platform shoe,
"Tonight I'd like nothing more than to make sweet love to you".
She said "I'm a virgin" he said "so am I" she said "don't you think it's weird?",
he said "not really, I'm four inches tall and you know, you got the beard".
She pressed him tight against her bosom he inhaled her perfume there,
he covered her neck with tiny hickeys, and stroke her facial hair.
The moonlight danced of his cowboy hat, she giggled and she sweared,
she undid his tiny rhinestone belt, a cricket looked away.
She sat him down and unzipped her dress still tipsy from the booz,
she tripped pulling of her panties and crushed him with her shoe.
Bearded Betty never married, her mistake sure took his toll,
she still owns that pair of shoes, and Tom is still in her sole...
Undignified ways to die
Skin diving with gas tanks you stole from a dentist,
renting a basement apartment in venice.
Wearing clown shoes while walking through a mine field at night,
getting a life-size-tattoo of someone your height.
Mistaking a python for your favourite tie,
hang gliding at night on fourth of july.
Having a bowling ball dropped on your head,
mooning some cannibals who havent been fed.
Teasing some scots for wearing a kilt,
approaching a chopper while walking on stilts.
Swimming with sharks wearing a suit made of meat,
flashing yourself to a hippo in heat.
Slapping the head of a bald drunken sailor,
and telling your date's burley dad "Five bucks says I nail'er"
Father's Day
Dear old Dad it's Father's day, and I just want you to know,
you're the best there ever was, and the things I'll list below.
Stinking up a bathroom, snoring like a beast,
teaching me to mow the lawn, before I had front teeth.
Showing how to hide your feelings, over-emphasizing winning
teaching me the birds and bees, at a Cub game between innings.
Turning off our cartoons for news and "Meet The Press",
picking a vacation spot where clowns could get depressed.
Never taking out the dog, forgetting my friends names,
picking at your nose while coaching, all my baseball games.
I guess as I grow older, I'm supposed to get like you,
and in some ways I must admit, I think that this is true.
When I yell my veins pop out, I've yet to touch a broom
I chuckle in my Lazy Boy when gas clears out a room.
But one thing you won't catch me do, as long as I can breathe,
that's wearing shorts around the yard with dress-socks to my knee.
Sister Joan
Sister Joan, age 54, ignores the desert sun,
the stranded church bus smoking, no sign of anyone.
Buzzards circle overhead, panic starts to set,
the kids are getting restless, her habit soaked with sweat.
The minutes become hours, she wobbles in the heat,
then, a distant engine roars, approaching from the East.
She squints through horn-rimmed glasses, her pure heart skips a beat,
Snake McGinty's Harley Hog, parts the dusty heat.
Black leather-clad from head to toe, his eyelids barely open,
Sister Joan says, "Holy Ghost, please tell me that you're joking."
He parks his bike, stands six foot four, then gives her a nod,
through leather pants his manhood shows, she rolls her eyes at God.
"Havin' trouble?", he barely mumbles. "Yes sir", she replies,
he pops the hood, takes off his shirt, she covers up her eyes.
"Kids", she says, "Back on the bus. Everyone be good.",
her fingers part, her eyes take in his reflection off the hood.
She grips her rosary tight with guilt and stares down at her socks,
her mind protects her vows with God, but her body picks the lock.
He bends to check the fan belt, her nipples say, "Hello",
her eyes climb up his leather chaps like a snail with vertigo.
She shuts her eyes and shakes her head, her legs start feeling funny,
"Lord", she says, "For work like this, I'm making shitty money."
He shuts the hood, "My name is Snake, I'm wanted in five states.",
She said, "Snake you're my forbidden fruit, and I need a little taste.".
The kids look on in disbelief. The kiss is slow, then faster,
Cheering rocks the school bus, till she says "Snake let's ditch these bastards.".
As they left, the kids screamed "No", she turned around and waved,
Her next confession killed a priest and lasted seven days.
For years the scandal rocked the church, but she regained their trust,
She still teaches Sunday school, but she doesn't drive the bus.
1F U C4N R34D 7H1S, U R34LLY N33D 70 G37 L41D
Last edited by werdercanuck on Sat, 21st Jan 2006 23:38; edited 1 time in total
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deelix
PDIP Member
Posts: 32062
Location: Norway
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| Posted: Sat, 21st Jan 2006 23:08 Post subject: |
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ok... could be nice if we have to make some at school or something ^^
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werdercanuck
Posts: 1562
Location: Pot Capital of Canada (BC)
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| Posted: Sat, 21st Jan 2006 23:13 Post subject: |
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one more:
Tim the Die-Hard-Packer-Fan
5 ticks left in the Super Bowl, the Pack they trailed by one,
The ball marked near the fifty, Favre warmed up his gun.
And in the other endzone a man rose to his feet,
Tim the Die-Hard-Packer-Fan, knew this was destiny.
Shirtless, painted green and gold from his forehead to his heiny,
the smile slowly left his face. He said, "Someone hold my Leiny".
He wet his finger, felt the air. A headwind turned their way,
"Favre", he thought, "He's got the gun, but he needs our help, ya hey?"
He lumbered down the steps. His mission now was clear,
neutralize the headwind, or wait another year.
And as he stepped onto the field, security stopped him short,
they asked him who he was, he said "I'm Tim, I'm from up Nort."
Whereabouts they fired back. Sheboygan, he revealed,
"Whaddy catch?" he said "Mostly Pike" they let him on the field.
As Favre barked out the signals, Tim chugged a giant beer,
and then another, and ten after that, as tension filled the air.
The ball was snapped, a route was run, Favre unleashed the ball,
never had there been a spiral, so clean and far and tall.
And then it hit the headwind and started coming back,
Tim felt a rumble in his gut, now was time to act.
The burp came out so long and hard, the Yukon felt a breeze,
a tidal wave of beer and brats and half a wheel of cheese.
The blimp was lost for 7 days, skybox glass was shattered,
an OshKosh woman lost her teeth, Tim's stomach left in tatters.
But the pass came down, the catch was made, and just before Tim died,
he was heard to say "The Pack are Back Oh For Cry Ay Ay"
His headstone reads, "Tim gave his life. Never did he wince,
he tailgates high above old Lambeau, grilling brats with Vince".
1F U C4N R34D 7H1S, U R34LLY N33D 70 G37 L41D
Last edited by werdercanuck on Sat, 21st Jan 2006 23:38; edited 1 time in total
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werdercanuck
Posts: 1562
Location: Pot Capital of Canada (BC)
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| Posted: Sat, 21st Jan 2006 23:36 Post subject: |
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two more 
Freefall Sex from the 7th Floor
Down the elevator shaft they plunged, hurtling towards their death,
their faces drawn by Edward Munch they smelled the devils breath.
Six floors left to do the deed, as she unsheathed his sword,
his woody flared up quicker than an airbag in a Ford.
Number four went whizzing by, his pants around his knees,
her arm a' pumpin' and her skirt just flappin' in the breeze.
“Your tongue” she said at number three “let me see it's size”,
he grinned and licked his forehead, she buckled with the thighs.
She shoved his head beneath her skirt, he thought he heard her say,
“Pretend its Ethiopia, and I'm a free buffet.”.
Down they flew in sweaty bliss, him grunting on one knee,
her eyes sank back into her skull, she drove his ears with glee.
With one floor left she rode his jaw, they had no time for fears,
the wind whipped through his butthole and whistled out his ears.
The impact satisfied them both, police were left some clues,
a smiling woman all alone, and a strangers pair of shoes.
Christmas Poem
Eggnog, tinsel, falling snow,
buttered rum and mistletoe.
Trimming trees and hanging lights,
the sound of carolers fills the night.
Shopping hours long and hard,
Visa phones and cancels card.
Unpaid bills and mounting debts,
Family gathers; depressions sets.
Drinking starts, harsh words are said,
dysfunction rears its yuletide head.
Argument turns to shovin',
drunken brother punches cousin.
Tree tips over, popping lights,
curtains catch, house ignites.
No one hears the reindeer cries,
wedged in chimney, Santa dies.
Though he kicked and did perspire,
his chestnuts roasted on an open fire.
1F U C4N R34D 7H1S, U R34LLY N33D 70 G37 L41D
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werdercanuck
Posts: 1562
Location: Pot Capital of Canada (BC)
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| Posted: Sat, 21st Jan 2006 23:56 Post subject: |
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Last one:
I'm having a bad day
Don't own an oven, can't afford rope,
tried to OD, ran out of dope.
Opened the veins, thought they were mine,
think I'd be asked to play Twister next time.
Saw a combine approaching, jumped in its path,
spent a week in a silo with corn in my ass.
Jumped off a skyscraper, left a suicide note,
it was Thanksgiving Day...god damn float.
Put a gun in my mouth thought it was real,
it popped a flag, I puked my last meal.
1F U C4N R34D 7H1S, U R34LLY N33D 70 G37 L41D
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SycoShaman
VIP Master Jedi
Posts: 24468
Location: Toronto, Canada
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| Posted: Sun, 22nd Jan 2006 02:20 Post subject: |
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| werdercanuck wrote: | Last one:
I'm having a bad day
Don't own an oven, can't afford rope,
tried to OD, ran out of dope.
Opened the veins, thought they were mine,
think I'd be asked to play Twister next time.
Saw a combine approaching, jumped in its path,
spent a week in a silo with corn in my ass.
Jumped off a skyscraper, left a suicide note,
it was Thanksgiving Day...god damn float.
Put a gun in my mouth thought it was real,
it popped a flag, I puked my last meal. |
I like it  |
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