Buried my dog behind the barn
Times got tough had to sell the farm
( Sorry to interrupt but these two things aren't related, you understand.
I mean the dog dying wasn't the reason we had to sell the farm. It's not like the dog did the accounting for the farm. Or because the dog died we stopped working altogether).
Had to leave the crops in the ground
Moved our selves into town.
(Actually we simultaneously moved into town and left the crops in the ground so either of these sentences are interchangeable, one can go first our second, you understand).
Continuing.
Our family took it very hard
In town we didn't even have a yard.
(We didn't have a yard but there was a dog house but irony being what it is, we left our dog back in the farm buried behind the barn, you understand, and our family did take it hard. Grandpa was led off in a straight jacket. When I asked where they were taking him, the man said were taking him to the funny FARM. Yeah, the funny FARM. We weren't laughing We don't like irony. Never have never will).
Back to the poem.
Without money that we still lacked
We devised a plan to get the farm back
(I'm sorry I have to interrupt this poem once again with my parenthesis because I just can't go on with all the sordid details of us breaking grandpa out of the nut house, digging our dead dog up from behind the barn, grandma seeing a ********** us poisoning those aforementioned crops and feeding them to the bankers dog, the one who foreclosed on us. Not the bankers dog, the dog didn't foreclose on us it was the banker, you understand.)
Consider this the end of the poem then. Go back to what you were previously doing.
Jul 27, 2025
Jul 27, 2025 at 5:43 PM UTC
Gather up your words,
and let your voice be heard.
Bonk a stranger over the head,
with your opinion.
Now's the time for us oppressed,
to get undressed,
and no longer wear the clothes,
of the feeble minion.
There's a new day dawning,
that the people are wanting,
not for us to weakly stand aside
and hide.
Rise from the muck and mire,
to fight fire with fire,
those who bully are really
cowards deep inside.
Stand up from your knees please,
and live on your feet,
as we march through the street.
It's time to begin,
it's them we condemn.
Their voice shouldn't be louder,
just because they have power.
Now is our hour.
We'll burn their shoes,
while they're standing in them.
When they turn the other ear,
and feign to neither hear or care,
what we have mumbled,
and rambled and said.
We'll slap them upside the head!
It's our station in life,
to have them pay attention
to what's right,
We should.
Or were better off dead.
It's time for new ideas and a fresh take,
to shake off their mistake,
that losers always lose,
and winners win.
Have your brother and your mother,
stand with one another.
Have your little sister kick them in the shin.
If it's to dole out a drubbing,
with our fisticuffs flying,
to change them from denying,
to attentively listen.
Then by all means,
shove down their throat,
any wisdom of note,
to choke them,
on the value of our opinion.
This time they will listen
.... or else!
Aug 12, 2020
Aug 12, 2020 at 10:18 PM UTC
I've built a bomb shelter type crawl space for us to hunker down in when the world blows up. If that isn't the ultimate proof of my love I don't know what is.
Sure you'll end up pooping in a bucket and washing in recycled *** but **** it woman, you will be alive.
You know how they say a person could get so hungry they would eat dog food. Well I left us mostly dog food. That way we can skip right to that sort of situation and experience it first hand. If that isn't the ultimate act of love I don't know what is.
You Know how you said you wouldn't have *** with me if I was the last man on earth? With only you and me in the bomb shelter, we'll have a chance to test that theory. Besides, it might be up to us to repopulate the world so that's going to mean making babies which requires lots of *** Sacrifices must be made. It's our duty. Count me in.
I'll have to extract a pint of blood a week from you to feed the crickets. Later to grind them up as cricket meat. Cricket burgers, cricket burritos. We'll mix it with the dog food for a unique pate'. Toss them in your mouth when snacking, like popcorn. And yes, crickets make noise but so did Beethoven.
Plus it will be cold down there in the bomb shelter but blankets take up so much room there won't be many. We'll have to spoon at night to share our body heat. It only makes sense. To share our body heat. Spoon at night. Body heat...Oh yeah...
Anyway, where was I? Oh right. So I dug you a bomb shelter to survive in, just in case the world goes kablooey. Maybe I'll even be the one who blows up the earth so we can be together. Now if that isn't the ultimate act of love I don't know what is.
Jan 30, 2020
Jan 30, 2020 at 9:36 PM UTC
Let's start a business today!
We'll call it Complimentary Mirror. Here's how it works.
First thing in the morning you look into the mirror and say,
"mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all"?
And the Complimentary Mirror answers back - you are, your
the fairest of them all. Then it tells you one of hundreds of
reasons why your magnificent, which it keeps stored in its data base.
The mirror would give compliments why someone is so
terrifically wonderful.
Compliments such as:
Your wonderful because you don't take **** from no one.
Your awesome because you practice revenge on your enemies.
Your the fairest of them all because you extort favors from your
inferiors and blackmail your superiors.
You rise above all others because you don't tolerate stupid people
and publically humiliate them.
Your terrifically wonderful because you discipline with spanking
other people's children.
And you get raises at work by threatening your boss.
And want public hangings brought back.
And loathe loud talkers to the point of wanting them dead.
And other complimentary mirror things.
A mirror that compliments you each morning to help you get a
positive start on your pathetically wretched day.
Let's start a business today! (Trademark pending).
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 7:25 PM UTC
Why all the cabbage said I?
It grows in the back said he.
Where's the bathroom said I?
The outhouse is in he back he said.
Does your dad live in town I asked?
No, my dad's buried in the back, out past.
Did your grandfather save this farm for you to have?
No, he's also buried in the back, in a grave.
So, at this point I quite naturally just had to go into the back of the house,
to see all there was to see. Quite naturally.
And dear God, let me tell you what I saw.
.....TO BE CONTINUED......
( I'm learning the art of cliff hangers in my writing. You know,
leave them hanging. Wanting for more. As in...to be continued).
How am I doing?
( By the way, there is no ending to this poem. I'm a shock poet. My poems are like being bitten by a word-snake. Uncomfortable yes, but you'll probably live.
Willoughby, out!
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 11:47 PM UTC
Make sure to avoid thrombosis in the legs when flying in an airplane.
How? I'm glad you asked.
To keep the circulation flowing in your legs, go ahead and KICK
the seat in front of you. Tell the flight attendant I said it was all right.
Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 6:36 PM UTC
My distant ancestors before me spent more than 100 million years as non thinking, hunter/gatherer mammals. Then in the last million or so, these ancestors of mine began to think, struggle, evolve, organize, create.
For this? All of this I see around me?
I guess I just expected more.
My ancestors crawled out of the ocean grew limbs for walking then evolved hands for climbing, grasping, survived the ice ages, conquered the plants and animals and the harsh elements, harnessed the laws of nature, created a civilization, a society.
All for this?
I don't know. I'm looking around. I'm not impressed at what I see.
I think we should start over.
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 5:14 PM UTC
Welcome to the con! The con starts with the author, Dr. Seuss.
He's no doctor. And that's a fact (and no it's not the only truthful
thing in this diatribe of mine). He used the doctor moniker to
sell more books!
That guy in the book pestering the other guy to try "Green
Eggs and Ham"? Turns out to be the ham and egg salesman,
Sam I Am.
It's a motivational selling "won't take no for an answer"
how to sell book disguised as children's literature.
And Sam I Am is psychotically relentless in his pursuit of a
sale. He needs a restraining order slapped on his ***
"Would you eat them in a box? Would
you eat them with a fox. Would you eat
them with a goat. Would you eat them on a
boat". Would you eat green eggs and ham,
would you eat them Sam I Am?
Dr. Seuss
And on and on. Sam I Am goes stalking him from page to page.
I had a friend of mine, Mustard Joe, ex war veteran with more
than twenty kills (you don't even want to know the things he's
seen) take a look into this green eggs and ham food source that
Sam I Am is pushing so hard. Here are some of the ingredients
he may or may not have found.
Ham -- 30 grams of sugar (questionable )
-- 15 grams of caffeine (untested)
Green eggs -- Trace amounts of nicotine ( not verified)
-- Handfuls of ******* (rumored)
As you can see, It's not an exact science.
People. When eggs turn green, that's mother nature trying to
warn you that your food has gone bad.
But in the end, Sam I Am gets the fool to finally try the green
eggs and ham and he absolutely loves it. Maybe the books lesson
is about to not be afraid about things you don't understand or
never tried. But I still believe there is insidious deception and
evil in the book. I have to think that way. Because after all -- I'm
Willoughby !!
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 12:12 PM UTC
Sorry sir, there's a 15 minute wait for a table. "I'm Willoughby **** it, I wait for no one"!
Sorry mister ,we're all out of that item. " I'm Willoughby, I write poetry on All Poetry".
Sorry, we're closed. " I'm Willoughby, I'm insulted. I've killed for less".
That numbers been disconnected. " Don't you know who I am? I'm Willoughby. Willoughby!! Do I have to spell it out to you? I have a pet rat, collect garbage and live in the basement of a luxury high-rise building. Doesn't that account for anything"?
We're the I.R.S. You haven't paid taxes in five years. "Who in the hell do you think your talking to? Well I'm Willoughby. That trumps everything and all. Away with you"!
Your sentenced to five years in prison for not paying your taxes. Court adjourned. " How dare you judge me judge me judge me... judge. After all, I'm Willoughby".
...and you'll stay in solitary confinement till you behave.
Sob, cry... but I'm Willoughby.. moan...Willoughby...cry...Willoughby...
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC
Coming soon, the Willoughby gift shop featuring tee shirts with the thumbs up logo on front for only $89.99. Made from 100% fabric like material.
Also a novelty flammable plastic oven mitt from Mustard Joe called," ***** catch-up, I want Mustard"! Made in Vietnam as a friendly gesture, to the very people he used to shoot, maim, **** You don't even want to know the things he did over there!
Anyway, stop by the gift shop. Pendulum Pam works there and she's worth the price of admission on her own (that reminds me, the price of admission is 25 dollars to the gift shop).
Willoughby is absent this week with an STD which I think stands for "some kind of transmitted disease". Like the flu or something.
Subbing in is me, Creepy Ray Ray (Mustard Joe wasn't available due to an appointment with his lobotomist - You don't even want to know the things he's seen or what's inside his head).
Creepy Ray Ray life tip #1
When eating human flesh, and I'm not admitting that I ever have, braise quickly on both sides and let simmer in a light sauce as it tends to be tough to chew and somewhat gamey. I lost a crown off a tooth chewing it once.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC