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Randy Johnson May 2015
Your son was injured and I'm as sorry as I can be.
But you had no right to **** a dog who wasn't guilty.
Your son was attacked and nearly killed by another Doberman.
You thought that it was my dog so you shot him with your gun.
But the guilty Doberman was caught two days ago and he was euthanized.
You killed an innocent dog and because of that, you ought to be chastised.
My dog wasn't just a pet, he was also my friend.
I cried as I buried him because it was the end.
If it wasn't for your son's predicament, I'd have you put in jail.
That's the only thing that's stopping me from having you locked in a cell.
If you shoot another innocent animal, I won't be so nice.
Before you shoot another animal, you'd better think twice.
This is a fictional poem.
Randy Johnson May 2015
This is the third Mother's Day that has come around since you perished.
The love that we felt for one another is something that I'll always cherish.
Out of all of the people on Earth, you meant more to me than anyone.
You were always there for me and I'm a privileged man to be your son.
You were very special and everybody who knew you, knows that is true.
You gave birth to me in 1971, I wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for you.
Whenever people ask me how I feel about you, I'll always say "I love her."
Happy Mother's Day Mom, you were one of the world's greatest mothers.
Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away at the age of 64 on March 6, 2013.
Randy Johnson May 2015
Since you died, this is the second Mother's Day that has come around.
Since March of 2013, peace and tranquility aren't things that I've found.
You were one of the greatest mothers who ever lived.
You constantly thought of others, you always loved to give.
People have always loved you because you were so kind.
If people couldn't see how good you were, they were blind.
I still feel lost even though you've been dead for over a year.
I would tell you how much you mean to me if you were here.
My brother and I had to end your suffering by taking you off the respirator.
I still miss you like crazy even though it's been fourteen months later.
It was so hard to see you suffer and die.
You were one in a million and that's no lie.
You always bent over backwards to be good to me and my brother.
I'm very proud and was so lucky to have you for my mother.
Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away on March 6, 2013.
Randy Johnson May 2015
I expected to be a millionaire or at least that was what I thought.
I killed a homeless man to get the lottery ticket that he bought.
When I demanded that he give me his lottery ticket, he refused to give it.
I stabbed him with my knife and I foolishly thought I would get away with it.
After I cashed in the lottery ticket, I received fifty million bucks.
But the Police traced the knife back to me and I was out of luck.
When I took that poor man's life, I stood there and watched him bleed.
I wouldn't be in jail and he'd still be alive if it hadn't been for my greed.
Please don't be greedy like I was because it's a terrible sin.
Because of my greed, I'll never see the light of day again.
Even though this poem is fictional, Greed really does drive some people to ****.
Randy Johnson May 2015
STD
If you want my ex girlfriend, she's up for grabs.
But if you sleep with her, you will get the *****.
It's possible that you may get ****** too.
Sleeping with her is a stupid thing to do.
I caught her in bed with my cousin and I thumped her.
She sleeps with a lot of men, that's why I dumped her.
I'm giving you valuable advice so you'd better listen to me.
If you ****** my ex girlfriend, you are sure to get an STD.
This is a fictional poem.
Randy Johnson May 2015
My wife was a magician and she loved to perform magic.
But something happened that was devastating and tragic.
She tried to perform a new trick that she called 'The Burning Box'.
The goal was to escape from a burning container after unlocking two locks.
But she couldn't escape from the box like she thought.
If you're wondering if she survived, sadly she did not.
I should've known that she couldn't do it, I should've known that she would fail.
Her body was burned so severely that she lost her life and her beauty as well.
When she said what she was going to do, I should've put an end to it.
I should've put my foot down but I was ignorant and I really blew it.
I shouldn't have listened to her when she asked me to trust her.
Now I'm a bitter and broken man and life no longer has its luster.
I can't eat or sleep and people have been saying that I look pale.
I let my soulmate do something stupid and now life is pure hell.
This is a fictional poem.
Randy Johnson May 2015
I owned a funeral parlor and I earned a lot of bread.
I got paid a whole lot of money to cremate the dead.
Each cadaver that I got rid of earned me five hundred grand.
I cremated ****** victims and for years I was in high demand.
OJ wanted to hire me.
But he didn't like the million dollar fee.
I always got repeat business from the Mob.
I fried those corpses when I turned the ****.
You'd better believe that when I cremated a body, it was much hotter than a sauna.
I'm extremely surprised that nobody ever wound up hiring me to cremate Madonna.
When I got through burning a corpse, there was never even a trace of evidence.
But the Police broke down my door as I was frying somebody and it was intense.
After being sentenced to fifty years in prison, people nicknamed me 'The Baker'.
If you need to get rid of a corpse, you'll have to call another crooked undertaker.
This is a fictional poem.
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