The seer of the dead will see
Hanging around the hanging tree
A lot of ghosts with broken necks:
The spot whereat they died they vex.
A happy Halloween to you!
May all your worst nightmares come true!
The Candy Cane Tree
Has peppermint bark.
It grows in the snow
And glows in the dark.
It drips chocolate sap;
Its flesh is white cream.
It's a tree-hugger's dream!
The harvest of canes
In autumn begins
With peppermint brains
And doublemint chins.
(I'm pointing at me)
He says stay high.
He says goodbye.
A lifelong student and campus man,
The entire world my college,
I wander through the halls of Life
High on the fruits of knowledge.
My mistress doth
Have eyes that shimmer;
And by my troth,
The world is dimmer
When they are shut,
So that it seemeth
The nighttime, but
The sun still beameth.
Because another sips
Her nectar, Death,
Please, seal these dusty lips,
And take my breath
Putt. .. ...................
2 little Whos
in Whoville dream
(while Dr. Seuss
cries, Sam I am!)
The Grinch so big
is such a ****.
(His therapy dog
is Max, a mutt.)
Whence came the Grinch?
His every bone
and every inch
from Halloween Town.
How doth the little chupacabra
Improve his lizard scales:
Abracadabra and candelabra,
He showers when it hails.
He licks his lips, and grins a grin
A bit like an iguana's;
Poisonous drool runs down his chin;
His teeth are like a piranha's.
If love is as soft
As the wisp of a willow,
Then, here: take this over-stuffed
Here, in cramped lots
Laid side by side,
Postage stamp plots,
The dead reside.
Bury my bones
Where I can prove
The well-spaced stones
Leave room to move.
Love, read to me some old haiku:
Love, whisper it in my ear:
Lean in so close so close are you
I feel the breath I hear.
Have ever you heard
A crow sing sweetly?
A singing bird,
They sing discreetly.
They caw to scoff,
Irk and berate you,—
To **** you off,
And agitate you.
In that one I see a couple of kittens
Another kitten eating.
In that one I see a *******
Giving to me a greeting.
In that one I see a fleecy lamb
Impaled on a steeple.
In that one I see a mushroom cloud
And the deaths of millions of people.
Largo e mesto,
Con pizza, no pesto.
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.
Domestic and warm as a chair by the fire,—
A bear of a spirit in flannel attire.
There was a theatrical fellow
Who played most bizarrely the cello:
His sound supersonic,
His air histrionic,
He jiggled vibratos like jello.
I have here a soda I want you to try,
And if you don't try it you're going to die!
The magic blue potion is certain to please:
This fizziest soda is 30 degrees,
And will be forever, yet never will freeze.
Pop off the cap, it will sit there forever,
Retaining its freshness for ever and ever.
Forever will wait this elixir for you,—
This perfect imitation of blue Mountain Dew.
A sip for eternity's all that you need
To be from mortality severed and freed,—
To forever be free to savor the flavor
Of Dew, (a heaven for the Mountain Dew craver!)
But since I desire to be a good model
Of courtesy, always I offer the bottle.
So, go on and try it, and see, if you will,
How long is forever. Be careful. Don't spill.
O hear! O hear! O come thee near,
And let me whissssper in thine ear.
Come nearer yet, and nearer yet:
I'll wrap thee round, nor shouldst thou fret.
Be thou unshaken, and fear no ill:
Ssssubmit unto the Law thy will.
The Law of the Jungle lives and dies
By ssssnapping jaws and lifeless eyes.
We be of one blood, thou and I.
That I may live, so thou shalt die.
I regard reincarnation
With a certain trepidation:
If you must suffer in each life, instead
I’d rather be irreversibly dead.
Here I sit unbroken-hearted:
I tried to ****—and did—and farted.
Here I sit by fate or chance:
For *******, sitting's the proper stance.
I have with volume spoken my affection,
And sung in verses seeking you to move,
And vainly sought to win, by your election,
Those diverse charms which you do daily prove.
I have with little skill writ imitations
Showing both want of wit and want of school:
They cast bright light upon my limitations,
And show myself to be a jest'ring fool.
Yet all these doings would I do again
If Time tripped backward and did them repeal,
For when I think on you I can't refrain
From finding words which soundly speak my zeal.
For you, embarrassments though I'll amass,
I'll stand before the world a braying ***.
My love's a grim disease that has no cure.
It freezes me and burns me up in fever.
It pains me with a pain I can't endure.
It gaunts my cheeks and grays my whole demeanor.
It leads me through dark dreams of fear and torment.
It wakes me up with tremors and in fits.
It ceases never, sleeps not, nor lies dormant:
It's with me ever, crumble-ing my wits.
It saps my strength, my will to persevere.
It's pointless hoping I will ever mend.
It's best that I'm without you, for it's clear
That you would only hasten my sad end.
Your presence wouldn't fight my ill or tame it.
No, having you around would just inflame it.
A pretty package neat and trim,
With wrapping paper fitting slim,
And with a bow tied neat and nice,
Houses a lump of coal and ice.
No, icicles haven’t a mindset to gab:
They think only ever ’bout what they would stab.
Though out of its power, each hopes that it will,
Before it drips dry, fall down for the ****.
O.O * .
Lewis Carroll rows a boat
Gently down the stream
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily:
Life is but a dream.
Twinkle, twinkle, little bat
Way up in the sky.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
I am very high.
Though wondrous are the monuments of stone
That yet enjoy the splendor of a prime
Lasting for ages—spanning lengths of time
Wherein were seeded, birthed, and fully grown
Great nations, cultures long since buried, gone—
And stand them still (sides slanted as a rhyme)
In total rapture when the arid clime
Around them swirls a storm of dust hard-blown,
When these have worn to so much desert sand
The greatest of Man’s achievements will be extinct,
Not because these will henceforth cease to stand,
But since the kosmos will have forgotten the tinct
And brittle leaves with hieroglyphics inked,—
The works that Beethoven scribbled out by hand.
The people-eating monster
Eats people for the kicks:
He eats a stomachful of people,
Then all his fingers licks.
And then he waits with expectations
High; and then he detects
Initial signs and growing symptoms
Of psychoactive effects.
My eleventh toe is green.
I take it out at Christmas,
Hold it above my head,
And ask around for kisses.
I take a concept scattered, rough, or mean,
And put it through my epigram machine;
Then hope that, though its soul may well be dirt,
It comes out clean as Mr. Clean is clean.
O care-inventing child, why dost thou scream?
Thou should'st not fret to quit a while thy toys.
Nor scornest thou the chance to sweetly dream
Whilst yet the sun his keenest beam employs.
No punishment is this; no, 'tis a gift
From her that kisseth now thy weary head:
Receive it softly: let the sandman sift
His timeless sands above thy person'd bed.
Too soon wilt thou a feeling as weary know
When selfish Obligation will thy pleas
For peace ignore, and force thee to forgo
A gentle sleep for half-awake unease.
Relish thy sleep before thou know'st too well
The stimulant that spoils the poppy's spell.
A woman awoke with a bite,
Two punctures that happened at night.
She works with two Ronalds
At night at McDonald's,
And flees from the dawn's early light.
I lock the door,
Then lock the door some more.
A gathering of omens ill
Haunts me inside my head.
Sings eerily a whippoorwill.
A gathering of omens ill
Pollutes the autumn's crispy chill,
Reminds me that I'm dead.
A gathering of omens ill
Haunts me inside my head.
He likes to wear a body suit
That’s made of human skin.
The gruesome onesie, head to foot,
Fits well: he steps right in.
It is my greatest fear, I think,
That my pen should run out of ink.
A shadow person's creeping near:
I see him creep near by.
He chills me, fills my heart with fear.
I wish he'd go! or die!
He's hanging, like a hemorrhoid,
Around. I don't know why.
(Or maybe I'm just paranoid
And really really high.)
The ladie sits before the keys.
Her quiet posture doth belie
Her fingers busy activities.
They mix in mingling counterpoint,
With wealthy harmonie they disport,
They daunce with skil in evry joynt,
And doe with heauen's host consort.
And Master Philips I wo'd sweare
His sad pavan had neuer play'd
Better then plays the ladie here,
Sith sweeter music ne'er was made.
The windmill spins;
The sunshine pours;
The game begins;
We're keeping scores.
I bank a shot;
It's on the roll;
It's in the hole!
A birdie flies.
I shoot a hen,
A hole in ten.
I lose the game
And have a ball.
My only aim
Was golfing small.
like as a
Toss the sack.
I'll kick it black
then pass it back
for the hack.
a nightmid dreary,
there once was a man
That one lim
Eric?k is about him.
A leprechaun lives (I've been told)
Distributes the best *** o' gold:
He grows pounds of flowers
With magical powers,
And over the rainbow 't is sold.
Look on her now: no streak
Of rosy hue
Blushes across her cheek,
Now icy blue.
A frigid, wintry bed
Was made for her
Who seemeth fully dead,
And dead for sure,—
For her whose rested breath
Will beat a pulse
Again before with Death
She spins a valse.
And doth she lie as fair
As when her throat
Gave to her stately air
A breathy note.
Look on her now! She stirs,
And wakes with awful "brrrrr"s!
Get her some tea!
I scrape the black plaque off the glass
Like a dentist with an itchy ***.
Because I ping,
I wish you'd pong,
and with me sing
a ping-pong song.
I wish you would
return the ball:
Instead I've stood
to play the wall.