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Randy Johnson Apr 2015
I killed a man just to get in the newspapers and on the Six O'Clock news.
I wanted to get noticed even though my freedom was something I'd lose.
I did it just for the publicity.
I wanted people to notice me.
Because of what I did, millions of people are outraged.
It sure did feel good to see my face on the front page.
Now I'm being tried and I'm facing jail.
That idiotic judge actually let me out on bail.
Killing that man was wrong but I'm not one bit sorry for what I've done.
But I am sorry because the victim's dad is going to **** me with his gun.
This is a fictional poem.
Randy Johnson Apr 2015
When you were dead in Firecreek, it looked real.
That was brilliant acting and it took a lot of skill.
But sadly, now you're also dead in real life.
It has devastated your kids and your wife.

You were rich and famous but it didn't make you become a snob.
Everything you touched turned to gold, you always did a good job.
You were Jim Lindsey, Jeff Myrtlebank and Rosco Coltrane too.
Now you're in Heaven with Uncle Jesse, Boss Hogg and Lulu.
Dedicated to James Best (1926-2015) who died on April 6, 2015.
Randy Johnson Apr 2015
I know that you've been looking for love and romance.
But your boyfriend only wants to get into your pants.
He's going to dump you when he gets what he wants.
And then he's going to go home to his wife in Vermont.
But I know how that you can ruin his life.
Just pick up the phone and call his wife.
This is a fictional poem but reality for some women.
Randy Johnson Apr 2015
My peach tree only had one peach and my brother decided to pick it.
I grabbed it out of his hand and you know where I decided to stick it.
My brother was really ******.
He had to go to a Proctologist.
He took me to court and the judge ordered me to pay the doctor for removing the peach from his ***.
That made me very mad and I started giving that judge sass.
I threw a punch at the judge when he held me in contempt.
But he had a black belt in karate and now I walk with a limp.
When it came to that **** peach, I should've let my brother eat it.
This has been a bad experience and I sure as hell will never repeat it.
This is a fictional poem.
Randy Johnson Apr 2015
While I wasn't looking, somebody stole my soda.
I quickly learned that it was Jedi Master Yoda.
I walked over to his table and we exchanged words.
I really got mad when that dwarf flipped me a bird.
I beat the hell out of him, whooping him wasn't hard at all.
He tried to use the force but he was no match for me because he's only two feet tall.
Because of our altercation, that Jedi wound up in a lot of pain.
I kicked his green *** and that's why he has to use his cane.
He lost bladder control, the floor was covered with ***.
Yoda learned that it's a very bad idea to steal from me.
Randy Johnson Apr 2015
You're mad because I told your husband the truth.
You cheated on him and I showed him the proof.
Instead of being angry, you should be ashamed.
You cheated and you only have yourself to blame.

You tried to convince your hubby that my proof was misleading.
But he could see the truth and he started divorce proceedings.
Because you were unfaithful, the judge didn't give you squat.
The clothes on your back were the only things that you got.

Your good life is gone and that's something you regret.
You once drove a Porsche but now you drive a Chevette.
Because of your infidelity, you were tossed out into the street.
If you ever find another rich man, you'd better not cheat.
This is a fictional poem.
Randy Johnson Apr 2015
I inserted a suppository right after I had been using super glue.
My hand is stuck in my **** and I don't know what I'm going to do.
When I went to the hospital, the doctors and nurses laughed.
They were in hysterics from laughter and they called me daft.
When they laughed, it offended me so I kicked the doctors below the belt.
They kicked me out and blacklisted me because they didn't like how it felt.
Because of my problem, I can't drive a car or ride my bike.
I can't afford a taxi so to get to places, I have to hitchhike.
The drivers also laugh and I have to slap them to make them keep their mouths shut.
It's been three years and I don't think I'll ever be able to get my hand out of my ****.
This is a fictional poem.
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