Saint Peter do you hear me when I'm prayin' ?
If so I hope you know that I ain't playin',
I swear to God I mean it when I'm sayin'
If there's no ******* in Heaven I ain't stayin' !!
I've lived long and now my hair's a grayin'
The Golden Rule I've always been obeyin'
From the straight and narrow I've never done much strayin'
But if there's no ******* in Heaven I ain't stayin' !
I look forward to the glory of the cities,
Put together by holy angelic committees
Singing praise and holy angelic ditties.
But I'll not see it if I don't see no *******
So Saint Peter please hear me when I'm sayin'
IF THERE'S NO ******* IN HEAVEN I AIN'T STAYIN' !!!!
Can I get an AMEN ?
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 10:19 PM UTC
Like iridescent moonbeams on a sea of midnight blue,
The stars above bedazzle me but not so much as you.
My darkest days you've brightened,
My cold nights you've made warm.
You ended all my loneliness,
Like sunshine ends a storm.
Come take my hand and stand with me,
I want the world to see,
The beauty of the one I'll love,
Through all eternity
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 4:14 AM UTC
There once was a pressman named Frank,
Who really could make his press crank.
Said foreman Wayne Berry,
To the ink man named Larry,
Today I make Frank walk the plank.
Frank this print just plain stinks,
Wayne growled as he messed with Frank's inks.
This blue is too light,
And thin down that white.
Frank needed a couple stiff drinks.
Like his **** was on fire, ***** catchin'
Wayne had poor Frank steppin' and fetchin'
Before he could speak,
His stomach grew weak.
Frank fell to his knees just a retchin'.
As he lost his lunch in deck four,
Frank knew he had triumphed once more.
Telling Wayne he was sick,
He punched out real quick,
And job still intact cleared the door.
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 6:07 PM UTC
Of things I long to tell her I speak not lest spoke too soon.
How and when to speak them I beseech of thee bright moon
Pray cast your cool lucidity into my mental eye,
And cleanse my soul with teardrops that sobbing spirits cry.
Impart to me thy wisdom gleaned from gleaned from countless
eons past.
The knowledge of the universe you've methodically amassed.
Grant me but a sliver of your eloquence and grace,
That I might speak my heart to her when next I see her face.
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 5:28 AM UTC
I'm not running for office,
Got nothing to sell,
But if you've got a few minutes
I've a story to tell....
See there once was a man
No different from you,
With so many clothes
He knew not what to do.
Yvonne grew tired of his clothing array
And let it be known one fine laundry
day.
She felt she had taken all she could take,
So she balled up her fist and gave it a shake.
Ernie I've had it she said with a shout,
You can do your own laundry from here on out.
Well the day finally came
he could find nothing clean.
Not a shirt nor a sock
nor a single blue jean.
Did our hero grow grievous ?
Au contraire !
With a quick trip to Thrift Town
he had plenty to wear.
Countless days later his attire still clean,
Yvonne fell to wondering what could this mean ?
As she entered the laundry room
scratching her head,
Her blood began to boil,
her face to turn red.
The washer was silent,
The dryer was cold,
But at last the mystery
began to unfold.
Twenty three pair of Levis
There on the floor,
Told the tale of Ernie's journeys
To the local thrift store.
Yvonne shouted, "Dear God I simply can't win !"
And with that started doing
Ernie's laundry again....
.... There's a moral to this story,
Set down here in verse.
It's a tale two evils,
You decide which is worse.
Doing laundry for Ernie who's not a bad guy,
Or a pile of ***** Levis that mount to the sky.
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 8:50 PM UTC
A pity Yvonne alas has passed on
In a most regrettable way.
She was in quite a snit
'Cause she just couldn't ****
And hadn't in many a day.
So she sent Ernie out
For enemas no doubt
And while he was still on the road
Yvonne took a chance
By dropping her pants
While running toward the commode.
In a tangle of jeans
Frustrated screams
And a splintering bathroom door
Her *** met the glass
As intestinal gas
Burst forth with a thunderous roar.
Th bowl couldn't take
The force of the quake
It rained down like porcelain hail.
Some people say
Five miles away
It hit six on the richter scale.
I miss dear Yvonne
Now that she's gone
Taken from us much too soon.
Sometimes I cry
As I gaze up in the sky
And wave as she orbits the moon...
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 5:16 AM UTC
Patient death awaits us,
with solemn silent grace.
Imparting us eternity
in it's inevitable embrace.
Inseparable it's companion time, immune to Earthly laws.
No plea can stay it's nearing step.
No riches purchase pause.
And when alas we're beckoned,
No choice we meet our fate.
Since time began has been no man as yet one second late.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 6:13 PM UTC