There once was a man from Kentucky
Whose bathtime included a ducky,
     Some whiskey, a shotgun,
     A beerbong, a potgun,
And a spirited dolly named Chucky.

There once was from Tilbury Town
A king in a Burger King crown:
     The monarch neurotic,
     Paranoid, and despotic,
His kingdom came crumbling down.

Two crocuses
Have the whole garden
To themselves.

The mousetrap
Is snapped shut
And empty.

There once was a man of Pangaea
Who had an unlucky idea:
     He ate a strange shroom
     And then laid in his tomb
Having died from insane diarrhea.

There once was a woman from Spain
Who loved to make love in the rain.
     She also had fun
     Making love in the sun,
And always in the public domain.

There once was a man from Zumbrota
Who'd **** down a 2-liter soda,
     Then burp up a symphony
     By Beethoven winsomely,
From the first bar to the end of the coda.

He wouldn't compose a cantata,
A symphony, song, or sonata:
     The best of his best
     Is a piece that's one rest,
Played f and with a fermata.

There once was a man from Bombay
Who enjoyed a remarkable day:
     It started at sunrise
     When the sun chose to unrise,
And it ended when Earth rolled away.

There once was a man from Mumbai
Whose face had the laziest eye:
     It opened at noon
     While the other as soon
As the sun rose was focused and spry.

There once was a woman from Norway
Who'd hang by her toes in the doorway.
     She went to her dude
     And his friends in the ****
And requested a fjordian fjour-way.

There was an Old Person of Crete
Who walked on the ***** of his feet:
When they asked why it was, he responded, "Because,"
That taciturn Person of Crete.

There was an Old Person of Finland
Whose cabin was upland and inland:
He lived in a region where fish spoke Norwegian,
That flapperous Person of Finland.

There was an Old Man of Geneva
Who had an encounter with Shiva:
They patty-cake played in a hornet-loud glade,
Shiva and the Man of Geneva.

There was a Young Lady of Paris
Whom ****** couldn't embarrass:
She wandered the city with ***** and *****
Exposed to the city of Paris.

There was an Old Husband of Arles
Whose wife had a passion for quarrels:
All day and all night she'd invite him to fight,
That exhausted Old Husband of Arles.

There was an Old Man of Kyoto
Who mastered supremely the koto:
His tea was the greenest, his dragon the meanest,
His koto the best in Kyoto.

There was an Old Man of Algiers
Who listened with elephant ears
To streams and to trees and to birds and to bees
That delighted the Man of Algiers.

There was a Young Lady of Arles
Who married a ****** named Charles:
When they asked, "Does it fit?" she replied, "Not a bit!"
That unsatisfied Lady of Arles.

There was an Old Man with a beard
Whose ****** expressions were weird:
He'd grimace when glad and he'd twinkle when sad,
That curious Old Man with a beard.

There was an Old Man
Of Japan
Whose limericks would never
Ever
Scan, that instupendious Old Man of Japan.

There once was a guru of Ind
Who fasted and rapidly thinned.
     They offered him Gogurt:
     He said, "That's not yogurt!"
And broke—in disgustedness—wind.

There once was a man from Montana
Whose favoritest butter was canna:
     He'd spread it on hotcakes
     (Which made of them potcakes),
Then play on his sitar Santana.

There once was from Lima a llama
Created by Pachayomama:
     He went to the zoo,
     And he stepped in some poo,
And he met as an elephant Brahma.

There once was a man on the Moon
Who dined with a runcible spoon.
     The dinner was splendid,
     And when it was ended
They played with a rainbow balloon.

There once was a man from Kilkenny
Who purchased a pipe for a penny,
     Then filled it with wacky
     And woolly tobacky,
And smoked himself dumb at four:twenny.

There once was a man with a flu
Who ran in the night to the loo:
     He stubbed all his toes
     In consecutive rows
While filling his knickers with poo.

Flying in falling
     Softly snow, five blue pigeons
And a white pigeon.  

Because another sips
     Her nectar, Death,
          Today
Please kiss these dusty lips,
     And take my breath
          Away.

Oh, weep for Adonais—he's undead!
    And hath been, lo! these interstitial years!
Yellow and black and pale and hectic red,
    His cockney mood consumptively careers.
Upon a bubbling Hippocrene he's drunk
    And dreaming, standing tiptoe on the brink
Of the wide world that sinks (Byron's a punk)
    As love and fame to nothingness do sink.
An anguished autumn wind doth howl a HOWL
    Of abject grief that sweeps the graveyard's stones.
The sickle moon observes the downy owl
    That eats a mouse from tail to skull and bones.
Zombie Allan Poe, who's green and obscene,
Is sobbing, "Happy Birthday Halloween!"

Frisbee flies
Like a UFO.

Blue skies.

A tic-tac-toe
Of them trails
Called chem trails.

Nanoaliens hatch.

A wonky throw—
He makes the catch!

The one flower
     Outside the window
Has turned to dust.

!hap

pie
e.e.
***

(13
0th)

ming
s' b
irth

day!

There once was a fella from France
Who'd dance a libidinous dance:
     He'd focus the eyes
     Of the club on his thighs,
Then dance himself out of his pants.

There once was a gal named Alvina,
A registered nurse at a gyne-
     cological practice
     Who brought in a cactus
That jumped on a naked ******.

There once was a methhead named Seth
Who banged a whole kilo of ****
     And proceeded to beat off
     And beat all his meat off
And beat off to methheaded death.

There once was a man from Green Bay
Who made it a habit each day
     To ****** an udder
     While churning his butter,
Then go for a nap in the hay.

The changing seasons are not more changefull
Then my mistresse; neither more vengefull
Is the wooing autumn wind that seduceth
A singing mood afore it blasteth
With bitter colde, angry and disdainfull.
Her scorne is lyke a scorpion sting painfull
In my sad heart wich bleedeth for banefull
Her who presently nowe observeth
          The changing seasons.
Her cruell scorne capricious entiseth
My heart to dispaire; itt dispaireth
Dailye and dieth from disese carefull.
Her scorne doth make my harte most woefull,
And so my smartyng heart despiseth
          The changing seasons.

There once was a sneezer named Rose
Who'd sneeze to the tips of her toes.
    She once sneezed so heinous
    She puked out her ****
And blew out her brains through her nose.

O Autumn! thou hast splendidly array'd
     Nature, whose robes are treasure-rich with colour.
A patchy quilt of dying leaves decay'd,
     Thou blanketest the world with deathly dolour.
I hear a voice inside my head.  I list.
     "Come buy, come buy," I hear in my mind's ear.
My pulse doth quicken suddenly in my wrist:
     The netherworld hath never been so near.
I harken to the rattling of the leaves
     That hang like vampyre bats from skeletal trees.
The songful birds that nested 'neath the eaves
     Have long since flown away with high degrees.
I'm cold and getting colder, and my breath
Is telling me I'm close to coming Death.

You're in my head; you're in
          Like rabies.
I've got you under my skin,
          Like scabies.  

You're in my heart; you're heart-
          Attacking.
You crack me up.  I ****.
          I'm cracking.

Another yellow leaf,
     Another red
Descends like grief on grief.
Another yellow leaf
Whispering, "Life is brief,"
Descends from overhead
Another yellow leaf,
     Another red.

The crow in the tree
    is actually
a black trash bag.

In the middle of midnight,
     night and morning kiss and part;
parting is such sweet sorrow.

The Sphinx
Methinx
Takes flight
At night.

the fall
     ing leaf
is all
the fall;
i call
     my grief
the fall
     ing leaf

Emily shmemily,
Emily Dickinson,
Recluse and poetess,
Rendered her rhyme

Idiosyncrously,
Much of her poetry
Reading most cryptically
Much of the time.

Moo Deng
Is too deng
Adorable,
And if you disagree with me (about anything) then you're
          terrible, horrible, torrible and—******!—just absolutely
          ******* deplorable!

Robert Herrick,
Poet and cleric,
Wrote numbers that were noble
When they weren't ignoble.

Little Bo Peep
Has lost her sheep.
The big bad wolf is full
And sleeping on a bed of wool.

#this #is #a #pome
#e #t #iphone #home

Father God
Doesn't spare the rod
Or spoil
Any boi or goil.

Donald Trump
******* King Chump,
And now he's gonna take down
Queen Clown.

Robert Frost
Loved and lost
Much
But never lost his touch.

Adolf ******
Was a lot littler
Than most Aryan brothers
And their mothers.

Edgar Allan Poe
Never wrote a poem about a crow,
But he did write a poem about a misbehavin'
Raven.

Edmund Clerihew Bentley
Invented an eminently
Humorous verse form
Which is also a terse form.

a s

now
f

lake
d
rea
m

s at
op
a on

ce
up
on a
tim

e mo
unta

in

        Where
          you
          are
     dreaming       ?
          are
          you
        There