Make that putt
he yelled
from the
jalousie window
above.
Make that putt .
I may have
given it
to you
but your
opponents
obviously
know you well.
You missed
a foot
going
what makes
you think
you’ll make it
coming back.
Make that putt.
Don’t pick it up.
I haven’t
given it
to you.
Make that putt.
Earn the right
to pick
the ball up
on a gimme.
Does the rest
of your game
****, too?
Make that
****
putt, will ya!!

I know my 14 year old boy is not yet fully a man,
But movie theaters and theme parks consider him an adult.
And he is fine with that.

But the other day, I took him to a museum
And they charged less for children up to 17 years old
And he smiled and said to me...

"Look Dad, I have been Youth-anized!"

Nice...

The next day we went to a movie together
And, of course, I had to pay full price...
And I smiled and said to him...

"I guess now you have been Adulterated"

Line Two

I think that it would do,
To end this poem at line two.


Line One**

I think that it would be fun...

There once was a woman from Oceanside,
Who took me to Heaven,
     though I never died.
Like an angel she sings,
     though I've never seen wings.
In all the times I've examined her backside.

My woman has good looks that amaze,
Nutmeg eyes into which I do gaze.
     But it's not what I see,
     That's distracting to me.
Her perfume, it's the scent; donut glaze.

In the morn I often awaken,
To a smell not easily mistaken.
Aroma, not of toast,
Or of fine coffee roast.
Her fragrance, much better than bacon.

Dear Death,
I'm sorry I could not meet you yesterday,
I was busy, things got in the way.
It was looking promissing then, well,
the heart attack didn't happen
then things just sort of went to hell.
The neighbours cat got stuck up a tree,
I know it sounds like I'm making excuses,
but the truth is there was only me.
And there were other things, not just that.
I would not have been able to ring an ambulance
****** mobile phone, the battery was flat.
I stood you up, Death, but I can't be there,
at everybodies beck and ****** call,
the wife needed me to drive her to the mall.
Look Death why don't we try again next year,
I'm not going anywhere, I mean I'll still be here.

4th November 2010

Hallelujah!
It works.
We blew the **** out of them.

We blew the **** right back up their own ***
And out their ******* ears.

It works.
We blew the **** out of them.
They suffocated in their own ****!

Hallelujah.
Praise the Lord for all good things.

We blew them into ******* ****.
They are eating it.

Praise the Lord for all good things.

We blew their ***** into shards of dust,
Into shards of ******* dust.

We did it.

Now I want you to come over here and kiss me on the mouth.

Said the king to the colonel,
'The complaints are eternal,
That you Irish give more trouble
Than any other corps.'

Said the colonel to the king,
'This complaint is no new thing,
For your foemen, sire,
have made it A hundred times before.'

Big ****, The Head *******,
was the head of all the ******* in the ******* Shed.
What made Big **** so skilled and keen
at dickheadedness was to be seen.
Big **** had a certain ******* flair,
for tugging at everyone's short and curly hair.
He never had an important specialty,
except for being a type-A personality.
His skills were near to nothing great.
He kinda looked like a backward ape,
with a necktie 20 years gone out of style,
and his middle-management bullshitty wiles;
"I'm better than any ******* here!"
He'd proclaim everyday with a prickish sneer.
So they put him on his own cocky shelf,
where he could reign all by himself,
and every *******, ***** or *******-wanna-be,
would come to the ******* Shed just to see,
what they could achieve if they'd observe instead,
the ways and means of Big ****, The Head *******.
___
Dedicated to every single uptight, middle-management, pain in the ****
you have ever had to work with or for.

"I'd rather have a bottle in front of me,
than a full frontal lobotomy,"
or so the saying goes,
as for me, myself and I, my friend,
I'd take both to soothe my woes!
__
Jack, the liquid lobotomist:
http://beautyineverything.com/5060607209

ummm, that's the poem.
what it says.