Bigfoot lives
Big discreet.
Bigfoot loves
Bigly feet.

Bigfoot lives
Bigfoot life.
Bigfoot loves
Bigfoot wife.

Laura.  She tempts me much to self-abuse,
The sin of which is true love's evil twin.
I regularly sin by giving in,
Making a sock of fresh banana juice.
I struggle to resist, but what's the use
When future me will certainly begin
To tug himself (much to his own chagrin)
Thinking about her headlights and caboose?
The walnuts swell upon the walnut tree;
The sap is running—slimy walnut sap.
Her apples call my name.  They're teasing me.
The hardwood grows with vigor in my lap.
I burn to plant my seed deep in her V,
The garden of her earth, then take a nap.

ınk a new line that drips upon a page;
poetry plays a point that letters spell.
when feet are running meter's rhyme and rage
the poet writes of love that's worth the tell.
a statement made of stanzas rings a bell
in ears that crave the rhythm of a verse
rehears'd in dulcet tones that maybe yell
at times when feeling love is but a curse.
volta Velveeta cheese an early hearse
and bathroom book of verses by anon.
musical fruits smell better smelling worse:
if music be the food of loveplay on.
     in octaves, sevenths, sixths, fifths, fourths, and thirds,
     poesy *****-footing plays with words.

                                                            n
                                                   n           ­   u              
                           h                 y                    s      
                    g           t         k                     r      
                                         s                    e   
                   h                  ee              w        
                       g               b           o
                             i                   l            
                                    l       f
                                      n    
                                u      
                        ­   s

There once was a bigfoot whose feet
Were shamefully small and petite,
     So he wore some big shoes,
     But the obvious ruse
Was a silly attempt at deceit.

                                                                ­                                  a
                                                       ­                                     w 
                                                                ­                       a
                                        ­                                         &
                                                                ­          up            
                                        ­                            up        
                                                              up­                
                             up                                 
up                                                     
            ­down               
                                          down

There once was a rosy tomato
Who fell for a russet potato,
     And coming together
     In unusual weather,
They created a baby topato.

Goldfinches
And dandelions compete
For yellowest yellow.

There once was a crocomodile
Who lived as the lord of the Nile:
     He once ate a pharoah
     From meatballs to marrow
While crying and wearing a smile.

The isness
     Of being
          Is the business
               Of I-ing
                    And seeing.

in Sp
ring
when song
birds

singjoy
fully,
dying
is

dull
;but
fat worms
****

**** thunder
are the
raindrops
fal

ling&stain
ing the
side
walk,rin

sing off
the
col
orful chalk

min     mal
         i
pr          sm

This is a test.  This is only a test.
This iThis is only a test.  s a test.  
This is a This is only a test.  test.  
TThis is only a test.  his is a test.  
ThThis is only a test.  is is a test.  
This is a teThis is only a test.  st.  
This is a tesThis is only a test.  t.  
This is a tThis is only a test.  est.  
ThiThis is only a test.  s is a test.  
This is This is only a test.  a test.  
This is only a test.  This is a test.  
This is not a test.  Be very afraid.

The autumn rain is falling
    Like teardrops from mine eyes;
I cannot help recalling
    With sobs and lingering sighs
               My Fugliana.

The days returning never,
    The golden days of yore,
I thought would live forever,
    Yet gone fornevermore
               Is Fugliana.

With rue my heart is laden;
    L'amour peut être amer.
Nor any rose-lipt maiden
    Was e'er so fair as fair
               Fair Fugliana.

The plant's shadow
Is as still as the sunlight
That crawls along the wall.

                                                   i
                                               t      n
                                           o             g
                                        o                     
go and catch a shhhh                           star. . . . . .

The woman singing
With the car radio
Knows half the words.

A customer grabs,
With a shirt-protected hand,
Goodwill's door handle.

The boy in the womb
Is already attending
DUI classes.

The kite's high.
I give it more string.
I give it
All the string.
It takes off
And flies away
And lands
God knows where.
Goodbye!

There once was a fella from Maine
Who added some drugs to his brain:
     He lost half his mind,
     And the half left behind
Was totally f'ing insane.

There once was from Mount Disappointment
A fella who lubed with some ointment
     A patch of dry skin
     Till he sinned a gross sin
And missed an important appointment.

Hole
1.🥚
2.🐣
3.🐥
4.🐓
5.🐔
6.🦆
7.🦤
8.🦉
9.🐧
10.🦩
11.🦋
12.🦜
13.🦚
14.🕊
15.­🦢
16.🐦
17.🦃
18.🦅

Final Score:🪺

Prove whether I do change, my dear,
Or if that I do still remain
Like as I went, or far or near,
And if ye find me not the same,
Declare 't is so that all may hear.

But if ye prove I change, my dear,
Not, but unchanged I do remain
Constant and true whithersoe'er
I travel to, then, dearest, deign
T'admit it only in mine ear.

Rolling a ball down a gutteral lane,
Wearing some shoes that were causing some pain,
Smoking a cig and some secondhand smoke,
Dude got a strike and then died from a stroke.

The shuttlecock, served,
Goes over the net.
I'll probably lose
The dollar I bet.

Over the net
It goes back and forth:
It goes north to south,
And it goes south to north.

The birdie in flight
Flits like a sparrow.
She hits it so hard
It darts like an arrow.

I smack it as hard
As I can possibly smack it,
And, wouldn't you know it:
It's stuck in my racquet.

Fifteen men on the dead man's chest—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!
Drink and the devil had done for the rest—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!

Gold doubloons and pieces of eight—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!
Pockets of coin is the sailor's fate—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!

Gentlemen of fortune and fun—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!
Have the most money under the sun—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!

Got me a ******* every shore—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!
Love 'em and leave 'em and leave 'em sore—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!

Jolly Roger ***** in the breeze—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!
Life is a sport on seven seas—
     Yo-**-**, and a bottle of ***!

Beneath Orion's belt of stars,
The Sphinx's forepaws guard the Sphinx
And all its secrets.  Blood-red Mars,
Beneath Orion's belt of stars,
Planning the war to end all wars,
Observes the mummy's forty winks.
Beneath Orion's belt of stars,
The Sphinx's forepaws guard the Sphinx.

Wintertime's hoarfrost, ice and rime
Have gone; departed hath the Gloom.
Make haste, ye maids, in Lilac Time:
Collect your Blossoms whilst they bloom.
What blooms today soon fades away:
Gather ye Lilacs while ye may,
Sith times, like Flying Saucers, zoom.

There once was from Okefenokee
A bullfrog who sang karaoke:
     He sang with conviction
     And a crystal clear diction,
But his tone was a little too croaky.

There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, "It is just as I feared!—
Two tweakers, a rat, and a cat in a hat
Have all built their nests in my beard."

There was an Old Man of Connecticut,
Who possessed an innate sense of etiquette;
He'd lay down the fork to the left of the spork,
That mannerly man of Connecticut.

There was an Old Man from Earth's center,
Who left it and couldn't reenter;
He crawled out a hole like a man who's a mole,
And lost his way back to the center.

There was an Old Person of Skye,
Who spent his days wondering, "Why?"
When they asked, "What's the word?" he replied, "Haven't heard,"
That discouraged Old Person of Skye.

There was an Old Person of Sligo,
Whose motto was "You go and I go."
He went here and there building castles in air,
That imaginative Person of Sligo.

There was a Young Person of Ghana,
Who grew Ghana's best marijuana;
He grew it, enjoyed it, and was super annoyed it
Was very illegal in Ghana.

There was an Old Person of Perth,
Who buried his gold in the Earth
And then plum forgot whereat was the spot,
That forgetful Old Person of Perth.

There was a Young Man of the South,
Who mouthwashed with whiskey his mouth;
He spoke with a drawl, saying yes'm and y'all,
That drawling Young Man of the South.

There was a Young Person of Boston,
Who wandered around and got lost in
The Chinatown section with a raging *******
That poked out an eyeball in Boston.

How pleasant to read Mr. Lear,
Who surely was scroobious and queer;
Old Foss was his cat in a runcible hat,
And he couldn't abide ginger beer.

The Honey Bee

Little buzzing Honey Bee,
Honey sweetens me and thee.
Thou art busy all the Day;
Busy Bee, thy Wings are gay.

Flowers bloom and showers fall;
Spring is springing over All.
Thou shalt work till Daylight's end.
Golden Bee, thou art my Friend!


The Beekeeper

Little buzzing Honey Bee,
Thou dost make my Gold for me.
Labour, Bee, because thy toil
Buys my meat and drink and oil.

Thou art mine: what thou dost make,
Slave! to Market I shall take.
Mine the Bee and mine the Earth,
Mine by Right of Human Birth.

There once was a gal from Berlin:
The hair on her chinny-chin-chin
     Was thicker than wool,
     And it made her blades dull
Whenever she shaved to the skin.

There once was a martian from Mars
Named Alfț'drônþopo'gorgg'glìån'nars:
     He constructed a spaceship
     And went on a spacetrip
To the farthest, most alien stars.

There once was a man from Tyrone
Who spent all his time all alone:
     It got on his nerves,
     And he wanted some curves,
So he Frankensteined a female clone.

There was a Young Lady who tweezed
The hair from her nose as she sneezed;
She then plucked her eyebrows from lowbrows to highbrows,
That plucky Young Lady who tweezed.

There was an Old Person of Cairo,
Whose exploits were carved into hiero-
glyphics on stones where a pharaoh's wrapped bones
Are preserved in a chamber in Cairo.

There was an Old Man of Kampala;
He prayed in the morning to Allah,
And in the bright light of the day, and at night,
That observant Old Man of Kampala.

There was an Old Man of Burundi,
Who prayed to the Salvator Mundi
Who met him upstairs and who answered his prayers
And who sainted that Man of Burundi.

There was an Old Man of Djibouti,
Whose substance was frothy and fruity;
A typical dandy with pickles and candy,
He dandled the Dongs of Djibouti.

There was an Old Man of Manilla,
Whose favoritest bean was vanilla;
He climbed up a tree and befriended a bee,
That beneficent Man of Manilla.

There was an Old Man of Beijing,
Who'd study all day the I Ching;
He balanced his qi with white rice and green tea,
That mystical Man of Beijing.

There was an Old Lady of Donegal,
A sister named Mary McGonegal;
She ruled with a ruler every pre-to-high-schooler,
That punishing Lady of Donegal.

There was a New Baby, whose nose
Was loving the smell of a rose
When it noticed the riper brown smell of a diaper,
Which offended that New Baby's nose.

There was an Old Man of Hong Kong,
Whose nose had a luminous ****;
It lighted his way by night and by day,
That lucky Old Man of Hong Kong.

There once was from Tilbury Town
A king in a Burger King crown:
     The king was 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 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 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 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.