Plains Tranes and Automosqueals I've never watched that holiday classic The one with one third air travel And two thirds land travel Or whatever it's about And I've never seen the Chipmunk sequel The one with the awful, punny name The one they call a "squeakquel" And fills me with such shame But I did watch "Hoodwinked Too" It was OK Not as good as the first movie But it's alright
A profoundly pretentious poet picks up his pen... and with little further to riddle, fiddles, twiddles it about the middle, then lids its nib once again. Lo - he thinks he's found inspiration! No... he's just rhyming pen-masturbation. ETA I'm naming this one Writer's Cramp. ETA Thank you.
Roses are red, Violets aren't green. I'm comparing things that aren't that important for reasons unseen.
Thoughts on Food Because I'm Hungry There are many things you do not know And some things that you do. Do you know what tastes like chocolate? Chocolate stew. There are many things you aren't aware of But some things that you are. Do you want to know what tastes like stars? I'm guessing star tartare. Koalas eat a gum trees leaf And a squirrel may eat an acorn, But some have observed humans eat Scrambled eggs and bacorn.
I took you Squirrel in my arms we danced by cactus remember, when you called them desert palms? How in that moment I reached for a nut the look in your eyes when it stuck in your gullet baby, baby, baby, [chorus]
My absolute favourite "Roses are red" poem has to be: Roses are red, That part is true, But violets are violet, Not fucking blue.
My favorite is a more macabre variant. Roses are red, Violets are black. You'd look better with a knife in your back.
Le Fromage I'm not even trying, just throwing down words, like miss Muffet would toss away curds, If cheesy poetry is what you seek, beware, my friend, this is more gouda, than brie, For what else could you expect? But the cheese from me. Mais le fromage de moi.
In wintertime I like to go And tread on other people's snow. I like to see them come outside And swear to tan my little hide. It fills me with unholy glee To see them shake their fists at me. But if someone should dare trespass Upon my snow-- the filthy ass!-- To his chagrin, he's sure to find I've had my yard securely mined. To kingdom come he'll swiftly go--- One should not mar the lovely snow.
(I've always been very amused by the over wrought and pretentious delivery of the art school crowd so with that in mind) Oh Abyss! Ohhh.... Abyss! Oh why must you create such divide! Oh abyss. Abyss. ABYSS! (very quiet now) abyss.
poetry can throw words random better catch them like a table tennis ball anthem or it is a game anything and anyone can claim!
I sat. By positioning my posterior onto the chair, By allowing my great man-weight to fall through my fundament to the surface of the stool, Through the mere act of suspending my gluteus maximus above the seat and letting gravity, by the grace of God, Newton, and Einstein, thump my nether pucker down, I did sit, and I did sit with a purpose. I sat to prepare myself for the mighty task of writing an extreme poem, A poem that will reorient the bones of Dante along the meridians, A poemity-poem-poem that will puzzle Winnie the Pooh, A poem that will sodomize Bob Dylan with a tunnel boring machine. But first, I must do all the procrastinating.
Salad You're leafy green, My teeth you often get stuck between, I curse your existence but love your fiber, My doctor recommended you, but I wish you didn't taste like a fiver, So, I'll add some nuts n' seeds, maybe some cheese too, and dream of a time when I never knew you. Lettuce pray for better days.
Sleep I'm sleep deprived, I'm running on fumes, With the keyboard, I dig to exhume Those tortured words that rattle round in my brain, and With my own eye, I do see the hilarity of writing bad rhymes, Clearly, sanity has left me for a time.
That Moment in Which They Said What, "What Are You Doing" Confessions The Not Happy Thread of Favorite Quotes
