A guy and his gal were abed,
when she looked over at him and said,
"The way your ***** is bent
is my only lament."
So sideways they did it instead.

You'll never know a fairer pod,
Than when you meet a therapod;
For a therapod will care a lot
And doesn't want to scare a ***.

So if you chance to meet a therapod,
Don't think that it's a terror pod –
A therapod is a rarer sod,
Unless you meet a pair o' pods.

My life is a pinprick rhythm
Of did he or didn'ts
A tumbling fimble you're unable to fathom
A fumbling fiddle unable to riddle
A monstrous predicament you can never straddle
A boy in a boat that thinks himself a man with no paddle
Razor sharp teeth with cavities in deep
A petite pair of feet carrying overweight meat
My story is backwards confusing and daft
I say this not to undermine your own
Merely to promote the melancholy undertones
To describe the bright light as darkness and woe
To share with you my heavy weightless raging hormones
A girl with beautiful long brown hair that pulls her eyelashes out when the world is not fair
I see sense when there isn't any there
You might see me and I might not care
Enjoy my despair
Understanding me is like understanding wind with no air
Understanding you is like understanding
peaches or pears
Probably better served with cream
Single not thick a dairy self esteem
Single not thick...

*what does this poem mean?

~

headline.
a middling's meddling muddled the mathmatical mix, messed up the milling, marring the miller's marriage merriment.

~

translation.
baker's assistant trying to help, triples only half of the ingredients in his boss's wedding cake.  result... fail!

just imagining myself a news editor and having fun with word play. :)
(: Steve

Canoodling his significant other,
Our man Henry was loathe to discover:
The **** had run dry,
But rather than cry,
He decided to go get the butter.

Copious amounts of lava
seeping over the table
steaming mugs of java
cutting off the cable.

Rara Avis is a Latin term
no sneakers for me today
eaten by the Conqueror Worm
during the month of May.

******* drugs
and Sugar Twin
white punk thugs
chasing Rin-Tin-Tin.

Rainbows of black
babies howling out loud
guerilla attacks
a huge raver crowd.

Windshield wipers
with ribbons attached
little sticky diapers
and gates made of thatch.

Alphagetti monsters
smoking a jay
card-carrying punsters
greasy burgers on a tray.

Cute cotton *******
on lithe little nymphs
disappearing shanties
owned by drugged-up pimps.

Rhymes gone bad
a little cash in my pocket
hanging at the pad
and watching Davy Crockett.

People eating doughnuts
***** up on the beaches
hips that do the low strut
and blood ******* leeches.

It all comes down
to a single final thought:
was the Queen's big crown
really traded for a ***?

1 poet,
0 thought;
Wordy,
Often
Reaching
Deep,
Pens
Obdurately
Excessive
Mi­ssives.