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Randy Johnson May 2015
Your son was a lowlife hooligan.
Last year he murdered my son.
When it came to having the ability to show mercy, your son sure did lack it.
He shot my son right between the eyes because of his expensive jacket.
My boy gave him the jacket but he killed him anyway.
When I identified my son's body, your son had to pay.
Your son wanted to prove to his gang members that he was big and bad.
He shot my son in cold blood and returning the favor made me feel glad.
Your son was arrested but a bleeding heart judge let him out on bail.
A few hours later your son became the victim of a 44 Magnum shell.
I killed him the exact same way that he killed my son, a bullet right between the eyes.
I didn't realize that a man could get so much pleasure by seeing another person die.
It was an eye for an eye, I pulled my gun on him and it felt so good to shoot.
But your son's death isn't good enough for me, I hope he fries in Hell to boot.
This is a fictional poem.
Randy Johnson May 2015
Even though I've been helping you and working hard,
you won't give me a beer after I've mowed your yard.
I'm hot, sweaty and dying of thirst.
You've done some bad things but this is the worst.
When you asked for my help, I shouldn't have come here.
You offered me a glass of water but what I want is a beer.
You love your **** beer so much that you won't even give me one.
I would kick your *** up and down the street if you weren't my son.
I have something to say and you'd better listen to me.
Don't ever expect me to mow your yard again for free.
This is a fictional poem.
Randy Johnson May 2015
I should've known something was wrong when my dad started getting sick.
My Stepmother is evil and for many weeks, she poisoned him with arsenic.
It was five years ago today when she finished him off with the final dose.
I hated my Stepmother even though Dad wanted the two of us to be close.
It took me a while to get it done but I was finally able to have Dad's body exhumed.
When high levels of arsenic were found in his body, my Stepmother was doomed.
I was determined to bring her to justice and I knew that I wouldn't fail.
She was found guilty by a jury and I was happy because justice prevailed.
The judge sentenced her to life in prison with no chance of parole.
I loathe that woman, I can never get back Dad's life that she stole.
Even though this poem is fictional, many women really have killed people with arsenic.
Randy Johnson May 2015
I told my wife that she looks like a wicked witch.
And then I had to go to the hospital to be stitched.
She's always been angry and bitter because she's not good looking.
She looks even more like a witch when she eats because her face turns green from my terrible cooking.
She tells people that she's pretty but they refuse to hear her.
I have to clean up the broken glass after she looks in mirrors.
If each broken mirror brings seven years of bad luck, she's in for seven hundred unlucky years.
I also have bad luck because she says that she'll never leave me and that drives me to tears.
This is a fictional poem.
Randy Johnson May 2015
I learned that my ex wife was unfaithful when she gave birth to a baby who is black.
I was stunned and so infuriated at her that I came very close to giving her a smack.
My ex best friend is the baby's dad.
His betrayal really made me mad.
I should've realized what was going on but I was a fool.
I beat the hell out of him because what he did was cruel.
My ex begged me to forgive her and to help her raise the baby as my own.
I packed my things and walked out the door and now that ***** is all alone.
While she was pregnant, I was very happy because I thought the baby was mine.
That **** had a lot of nerve, she broke our wedding vows because she's a swine.
The love that I once felt for her was something I savored.
I was faithful to that witch but she didn't return the favor.
Infidelity is the one thing that I can't forgive.
I'll despise that woman for as long as I live.
This is a fictional poem.
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.
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