Bend the ear of a wise old man
and tell him what this place is
over and over, you'll waste your time
just shouting empty phrases
He won't read lips, he's never has
he's spent his life just is he as
He's all mixed up and all that jazz
the words, his mind erases

And yet somehow I never fail to communicate frustration
it's always clear and never lost, a visual translatio

He speaks of friends he lost at war
and thinks his child is only four
incontinent and up all night
prefers you called him 'Sarge'
Sit beside him, don't you worry
let him eat without the hurry
let him lead, and listen well
you'll come to love The Sarge

Guide him gently down the aisle
He's got a limp, it takes a while
overlook the caustic tone
Commanding was his station
Now take the time to softly smile
mind your manners, march that mile;
don't patronize, but recognize
to him you're Gomer Pyle.

Someday you'll know how it'll be
if you reach that golden 93
you hope your mind will last as long
but there ain't no way of telling
They say that it is in the genes
but who knows what brings down our beans
if we lose our ears and minds
let's hope there's no one yelling

T'was just before Christmas and I went down to the garage
To have my old car looked at by a fellow known as  "Sarge"
He said I need tires and my wipers weren't so hot
My hoses all were leaking and my muffler was shot
The repairs just kept on coming and I saw a sparkle in his eyes
He was counting all my money, he was the devil in disguise
I told him "Thanks, but I would go and get another look"
Before I signed for his repair list and I was on the hook
So I went on to my friend's place to see what he could do
We've been friends for nearly 30 years...since 1982.
His mechanic took it out back and while he had it on the hoist
I saw a woman at the counter, looking rather moist
She said my car is leaking there's  a hole that must be filled
I thought that if Rob had a coffee, it'd most certainly be spilled
A girl came in and she told Rob her boyfriend had loose nuts
And whenever he was driving her, they slid into the ruts
Rob stepped back, grinned a bit as he was looking down her front
And from where I stood behind her I could almost see her
Donation to the Angel tree that was standing in the corner
A door opened, a breeze blew in, and there was no time to warn her
Her skirt blew up, exposing  her tattoo of some sprigs of holly
And Rob came round and covered her just like Sir Walter Raleigh
I'm sorry miss, for I did look when your skirt was lifted
And I must say, you made my night, for my drive shaft has shifted
And then a man came through the door and said "My name is Nick"
"I've problems with my reindeer and I need them seen to quick"
Rob said "we work on cars here sir , I can fix tires or a hose"
"It's nothing major son, I need a bulb for Rudolph's nose"
"It doesn't stay on like it should and the other deer get frantic"
"And I can't risk it going out when I'm over the Atlantic"
"So, if you would replace it now with something nice and bright"
"I'd pay you well for all your time and for aiding in my plight"
Rob stepped up, fixed Rudolph's nose and said "This one's on me"
"And for all work done in my shop you get a guarantee"
We all stood round as Santa left, for we new that  it was him
For he left us each a candy cane in a metal alloy rim
And as we watched him fly away, I'm sure we heard him yell
"There's mistletoe tattooed on her too, but...where I'll never tell!"

I call it poison, but perhaps you won't. These cold pressed apples, pineapples, and spearmint only paste more modge podge over my face as I schlack it on...gritting my teeth I light yet another cigarette, now that's 2 packs of Marlboro Red Labels now onto American Spirits Light Blue. Cancer isn't coming fast enough. I wish I would at least be ******* out my innards by now, I haven't even vomited, maybe I'll take that toothbrush I bought for you to use when you would stay the weekend, that I haven't gotten around to whitening the sink with. Maybe I can do that Sunday. FUUUUCCK!!!! I am not praying I make till then. I don't know if I can even breathe another hour like this. I haven't drawn a sober breath in years- I'm on the wagon, but I was just transferred from a wheel into the **** bag for a horse. Being ****- at least it's something I am used to (a sigh of temporary relief washes over me. Or is it finally the Nicotine buzz I've been hoping for since I escaped to the forest with an airplane bottle of Southern Comfort[Brainstem: South to the **-femalien crease that's been comforting all these years, where are you now?] , and a pack of my Uncle's cigarettes to find out the first time how to make the pain she's gave me go away.

Men drink essentially because they can no longer illicit their needs.

You who I wasn't even attracted to at first, where together we barely called [Brainstem: this is where I construct a motive for using a chainsaw to pick my nose with] . You who I can now remember the way a mixture of your hair, body spray, sweet sweat, and vintage knits began leading my nose and my memory towards one of the greatest happinesses and darkest times I have EVER had.

[Brainstem: I just hate him. The kind of hate you have for a mosquito, a person who encourages you to speed up while they're walking without reflectors or night-lights in the middle of the road at night with their dog- that kind of hate. The hate that has me smoking my cigarettes to their orange and gold filters, that has me staying awake, unable to touch my own **** because it's already started staying at someone else's place and looks like two Californian Prunes and a shriveled overcooked mini-hotdog does. The kind of hate that has me burping up what smells like rotten eggs or bial.

....Out of nowhere without anything but the image of a virginate 21 year old casing around my aorta, lying in my bed in just a pair of her Fuschia & White Victoria Secret striped 100% cotton ******* that ever so slightly crease inward into the creases where her skinny young legs meet the ever-so-bite-worthy crease....After our first official date where we knew we weren't going to **** each other but rather she was focused on her breathing hoping I wouldn't be able to notice how excited she was [Crime: #4] then step away and find an imaginary monster that challenges every thought I have, conversations and incidents and challenges and givers and receivers and lines and dots, darts, knives, life, and *** and blood faintly stained onto the bottom of the that 1 1/2" piece of fabric which is the biggest obstacle between us.

While I write, recall, remember and dictate and draft up this piece, I realize that I am not the lawyer visiting the killer in prison OR even the killer cruising around in a slightly rusted robin's egg blue Volkswagen Anti-Climaxer, I am not even part of the story anymore, after you decided it was acceptable to be so graphically forward with me (I take another Xanax that's beginning to be two an hour that I avoid taking) Interspliced are scenes from Dexter, versions of serial killer life, visions of this fake superstar with his **** out flailing around spurting a little streaky one shot of *** onto your tongue and in your mouth, or maybe you were plastered with it.

I just know it's good I don't have a gun, I could go for a bullet sandwich 9 times over about now. I never touched, discussed, abused, misused, lead on, flirted with; I never did anything unattractive with the exception of being a heavy smoker and a low-earner right now, but I see women even younger than you make better choices than you. In fact right now I believe you will not even breathe on me. But it's no matter I have the reconstructed skeleton of his severed body parts I let soak in hydrofluoro until I could pick away what little gum-like pieces of pink sinew are still left. (Dexter: The Sarge and The Lieutenant walk  out of the precinct at the same noticing each other.

Do you believe that I really handed over the upper-hand to you? I've never had someone begging to **** my **** on a Thursday and getting a fake celebrity ****** from an awesome artist. And what really ***** the hammer and lifts my limp **** and ****-ticket up to your pretty little mouth, is knowing that eventually you will have to be alone again, and the shine of this excitement will wear off, and then I TOO CAN PLAY THE GAME.

1. Time to light the cigars.
2. I present the Nicaruagan landscapers' body, George Marshall, who is better known as 'The Skinner."
3. I accept that you're going to think being honest about your most promiscuous moments is attractive to talk about. I certainly thought that, up until you That is.
4. No more chocolate cake, again.
5. Throw out the soda.
6. Start taking Amphet Salts and running away from home and into everyone I would've liked to kick with my foot, bare, filthy, and furious into their cheekboned. Then smear the bottom of my oily and baby-***, **** and inviting foot into your Hood until you spray like the five hundred other times you tell me you didn't. But even all this. This cell phone, this furniture, the awful sound of the train all night, the illusion and total manic state that puts diplopic faces of imaginary people between me and the rest of the world.

I need to know, do you even want to here this? Are you confused? What led you to come over or invite yourself here?

Pills, blade, play, or having that kid. But putting up with his ******* to be in the background of thought as someone while I was at home with his four kids. And I just relax then because, while I thought organizing the tower room to serve our primary guest of action was necessary when I looked at it so lit up by the buildings across the way shining their light through its atrium making all of the room much more suited for making art, writing and dancing. This is a huge handful of good-naturedness in a friend that can't seem to get off the phone and I must have to hid the monkey. I have to go to Walmart and return the monkey. I will...... and this is the biggest luxury, the hotel maintenance will even cover up my own series of murders or Dexters.

You believe me right sweetheart. You're my closest friend, but she is worn together and I just like the rings I own to be worn by you so that you don't get the idea to slip up and not just give me more anneurisms for my ****** up already head, or cancel the party, but really play that game and seee them cased out, otherwise I could be...a? A Cosmetic Manufact- "I believe in Freedom." You said.
"hahahaha", I can see that got you where you are today, postulating my grief by throwing self-care out the window and just judging me based on what you don't relate to instead of what you do relate to.

PS I know you didn't have time to let anyone know I was coming already? Until I snuck a peak and figured out you had been casing me the whole time from beginning to end to break me. But I'm not broken. I'm just not eager to be touched by anyone else of the ** form other than you for a minute. I also have time believing that while you were scared of me giving you your first ***-to-mouth experience while I stand you up in a skirt in the back of the school bus. And I can recognize tears of someone around us, and so I stand up and I recognize that it's my friend Stephen who is really (...is really, an imagined hologram of myself I invent to learn about myself in dreams, and other horrific events that my mind shuts down for, and no you're not the only 5' foot and 5" inch blonde haired ex of mine that performs from the camera but not for the eye. It will all come out in the wash regardless. I better to get goin.....I could write on and on and on and on about all of these multi-secular, uninhibited, depressing suggestions from the same bill my sister has to pay her Electric and Water monthly on, but I need to not sleep to make the need more. And even though I say the photo of her touching a single toe with a dead boring hell bent nobody Phillistine that could care less about her Grandfather being sick or her getting an STI or STD or if she is taken care of. But I do. I will. I don't stop being the good natured caring and and passionate person I am just because someone I really thought was going to take me an honest man, just taught me to be more meticulous in making sure I dispose of the body properly... But maybe she isn't playing pretend, maybe she's just another Fake Prada caught up in the mix.

Charlie the gnome needed a home
and so he looked around,
the garden shed too big he said
and too high off the ground.

The bar b que would never do
the ash would make me sneeze,
so on I go look high look low
in and around the trees.

The bird box white would be too tight
with chicks that chirp and cheep,
and constant song the whole day long
I'd never get to sleep.

The kennels large but then there's Sarge
and all his smelly toys,
plus after dark he likes to bark
and make a lot of noise.

The house I found is out of bound
too many folk in there,
so I'll stay out and look about
as I don't like to share.

A wooden crate there by the gate
would make a perfect home,
it's not too small or wide nor tall
it's just right for this gnome.

I need a door and windows four
some carpet and a bed,
a rocking chair would look good there
or maybe there instead.

Yes this is fine and it's all mine
with roses all around,
the place it seems straight from my dreams
is what I think I've found.

Charlie the gnome no more will roam
his house is warm and bright,
with flower beds of blues and reds
and picket fence of white.








A wooden crate down by the gate

Essenntial love
Essential loveAugustus said I found Rome brick I left it marbleI find myself vile only through loving Jesus can I be righteous
What happened there was a time I encountered angels read his word ate what I read with a physical sensation I could feel in my
Heart just like I feel when I eat naturally somehow I flipped back to the way I was before these wonders were real I told before
How the love of God as a spear flew off of the record turn table from that moment at seventeen with a lapse of years from
Five to seventeen I lost a holy life because my parents turned from God went back in the world taking me and my sister with them
This is what the spirit said about my parents when he gave me a promise I also told I hitchhiked to camp slept with the cows in
A pasture a hill over from the main camp site this troubled the Illinois district superintendent but God spoke through the camp
Speaker this is what God has to say to someone to identify he said this and when he said it my aunt and uncle setting across the
Auditorium turned and looked directly at me you’re here your mother is a harlot and your dad is a drunkard a month later a
Camp speaker made the same promise but with this stipulation you can change the hands on the clock but you can’t change the
Time that has been forty one years ago it is still true God is not a liar but after the record player I did start back to church all
The time I would seek God to be filled with the Holy Ghost with the evidence of speaking with other tongues no success and then I
Was drafted far from home discouraged I quit going to church this went on for the two years God remained silent humanist try
To tell you can improve all by yourself see if this sounds like improvement one who tried to live right now grass and alcohol was my
Lifestyle if you asked me about it this is what you would have heard Wolfman Jack was our hero for sure when he was forced to
Broadcast from Mexico after violating FCC rules as a DJ and he never sounded as good as when you were high the alcohol altered
My mental state I could think deep brooding thoughts only problem you couldn’t be around me because of self loathing I was like a
Mad bull I was destructive and self destructive that came from self loathing I knew my parents record I got in enough trouble
drinking twelve percent by volume slow gin I can’t stand the taste so I would force it down you drink a whole bottle of anything its
Lights out well it like the lost weekend I came back own leave with grass and alcohol I was a disgusting freak to kids I use to lead on
Jefferson St I found out at a get together at the park that I was the cause for one of them getting drunk the first time there no shame
Like that well except for this there was more but I will just give you the high lights it was night we were all in the barracks I was in the
Latrine standing there doing what boys do well I was holding onto this board up over my head inch wide it was nailed at about four
Feet intervals to these poles behind them was corrugated metal making the wall well I wondered what happened if I yanked on
The board nothing happened except it came off with a terrible crack again no big but is was a big thing to thirty bunk mates
I heard a commotion so I just looked around the door all of them were scared straight or something because they were all trying
To get out of the door at the same time that’s funny when Archie Bunker and Mike did it on all in the family but they thought
They were next on the list I got them calmed down I feel I made up for it when I stood up for them I called a bully outside to fight
That was making every bodie’s lives miserable just like all bullies he was a coward and ended up throwing his arms around my shoulder
Wanted to be my friend I know he was a coward because as I said before I are one next one more dangerous not for whom you would
Think I sent the Sarge to go to the NCO club and get me a bottle of slow gin they had a quart not a fifth but it was without the volume
I took care of the volume and the day room with it one hundred and twenty proof in the middle of this I called one of the saints back
Here well I can’t tell you much but the saint talked to me when I did come home I believe when I hung up the phone thats when the bull
Rang in anyway a Jewish kid was said to have run down the company street screaming a wild man was tearing up the day room it was
Made out of aluminum siding and I only drank half of the bottle if I had drank all of it I would have torn it down not up well trouble
Breeds trouble one guy was write one was wrong well that weaved in and out just like myself I came to myself and in front of me was
My pal from class that I was in Jose Torres an MP sorry but one of the ugliest Mexicans anywhere not just in California but he was
Fired up with that Latino blood he wanted to fight evidenced by the forty five he was waving in my face in that brief moment of
Knowing what was going on I reverted to the primal beast level if you get in a fight you become intensely aware nothing is hidden
I could see it in his eyes he could taste it he wanted to pistol whip me oh contraire my friend I was fifteen and me and two other kids
Were watching tables for the refinery pick nick the next day well six idiots show up drunk drinking beer that was alright but when
Duck tale white under shirt jeans engineer boots stooge started throwing beer on my friend’s dads navy sleeping bag I asked him to
Stop when he didn’t I stood up holding a cow boy belt with a raised horse head on the buckle in my hand for protection well bright one
****** it out of my hand and slapped me in the face with it remember I said bull he was two years older than me but I was big and all
Muscle then I threw my head back and when the blood rose through my eyes I was blind it didn’t matter is was black in the large
Pavilion I couldn’t see only red just before that I was in danger I have seen what a pack of hounds can do to a **** on the ground
I was the **** all were getting ready to rush in but when my blood hit my brain the volcano erupted on his sorry self I picked him up off
The floor then he needed protection God was there if he would have gone down on the cement floor or into the picnic table how they
Are made his back would have been broken but I threw him across the table two feet to the table over the table another four feet
Into a red fence that was stretched there one pole to the next he was going head first about four feet off the ground that fence
scrapped the floor then when it got to the two points those bolts snapped it sounded like a high powered rifle going off he and the
Fence continued two to three feet off the edge of the floor then three feet out in the grass where it folded up around him the fight
Was Over the others wouldn’t even acknowledge him lying out there groaning the fence had become his safety net the next day the
Dad who owned the sleeping bag looked at the two of us and asked what happened to you two I couldn’t see my face but he had three
Deep imprints of the fence stakes plus the twisted wire was plainly visible the marks were up and down you can say they lasted a while
so I looked at this pistol waving clown and just laughed turned and walked down to the MP station I did thirty days clerking in the
Headquarters office for rearranging the day room to the way I wanted it messing with the army is Childs play then God came on the
Scene not so fun I experienced the same thing that happened to a guy that I worked with at the refinery when I knew him he was
An old man I was seventeen but later when he was dying of cancer his neighbor who was in our church set with him and as she did she
Prayed for him until God spoke to her and said don’t pray anymore he rejected me when he was young now I’m rejecting him the story
Behind this was this man was driving a truck back then they had to go out and literally pull him out of the cab his hands were like claws
His nerves were gone that’s what happened to me the only reason I didn’t use lsd was the kid used it all and then the angel had to step
In before salvation came again I was unaware of this but I went to the fire house I set down at the desk next to this other kid and he
kept smiling finally I had enough I asked what’s so funny you don’t remember no remember what last night you ran in and stood at the
Top of the steps six seven feet up out of the office I ran in said the MPS didn’t catch me I then hollered I’m superman and I did a flip
Down on the cement floor I did remember laying on the floor hollering at the fire chief as he slept in the back room off of the office he
Finally told someone to take me back to the barracks so stupidity was running rampant but I was the crew chief and I did my job
And then it happened just like my friend in the truck that had to be pulled out I lost it I was a basket case I couldn’t think straight
Minor jobs that were simple overwhelmed me when that starts you start looking for answers it didn’t take me long to know what was
Going on this rebels running from God had come to a screeching halt I finally had the boys take me to Monterey and let me out I threw
Away the cigarettes checked into a motel a few blocks from the church had to literally cry for God to let me have peace so that I could
Sleep and in the morning dressed went to church as I walked by the windows I heard the congregation singing the songs of Zion a
precious peace settled over me I was home where I belonged.

This is long and serves as a starting point that I want to continue up to Christ’s day of Christmas if it doesn’t work out least you know
my testimony and you can see what God has done for me but I want to try and renew my life and maybe touch you along the way

Essenntial love
Essential loveAugustus said I found Rome brick I left it marbleI find myself vile only through loving Jesus can I be righteous
What happened there was a time I encountered angels read his word ate what I read with a physical sensation I could feel in my
Heart just like I feel when I eat naturally somehow I flipped back to the way I was before these wonders were real I told before
How the love of God as a spear flew off of the record turn table from that moment at seventeen with a lapse of years from
Five to seventeen I lost a holy life because my parents turned from God went back in the world taking me and my sister with them
This is what the spirit said about my parents when he gave me a promise I also told I hitchhiked to camp slept with the cows in
A pasture a hill over from the main camp site this troubled the Illinois district superintendent but God spoke through the camp
Speaker this is what God has to say to someone to identify he said this and when he said it my aunt and uncle setting across the
Auditorium turned and looked directly at me you’re here your mother is a harlot and your dad is a drunkard a month later a
Camp speaker made the same promise but with this stipulation you can change the hands on the clock but you can’t change the
Time that has been forty one years ago it is still true God is not a liar but after the record player I did start back to church all
The time I would seek God to be filled with the Holy Ghost with the evidence of speaking with other tongues no success and then I
Was drafted far from home discouraged I quit going to church this went on for the two years God remained silent humanist try
To tell you can improve all by yourself see if this sounds like improvement one who tried to live right now grass and alcohol was my
Lifestyle if you asked me about it this is what you would have heard Wolfman Jack was our hero for sure when he was forced to
Broadcast from Mexico after violating FCC rules as a DJ and he never sounded as good as when you were high the alcohol altered
My mental state I could think deep brooding thoughts only problem you couldn’t be around me because of self loathing I was like a
Mad bull I was destructive and self destructive that came from self loathing I knew my parents record I got in enough trouble
drinking twelve percent by volume slow gin I can’t stand the taste so I would force it down you drink a whole bottle of anything its
Lights out well it like the lost weekend I came back own leave with grass and alcohol I was a disgusting freak to kids I use to lead on
Jefferson St I found out at a get together at the park that I was the cause for one of them getting drunk the first time there no shame
Like that well except for this there was more but I will just give you the high lights it was night we were all in the barracks I was in the
Latrine standing there doing what boys do well I was holding onto this board up over my head inch wide it was nailed at about four
Feet intervals to these poles behind them was corrugated metal making the wall well I wondered what happened if I yanked on
The board nothing happened except it came off with a terrible crack again no big but is was a big thing to thirty bunk mates
I heard a commotion so I just looked around the door all of them were scared straight or something because they were all trying
To get out of the door at the same time that’s funny when Archie Bunker and Mike did it on all in the family but they thought
They were next on the list I got them calmed down I feel I made up for it when I stood up for them I called a bully outside to fight
That was making every bodie’s lives miserable just like all bullies he was a coward and ended up throwing his arms around my shoulder
Wanted to be my friend I know he was a coward because as I said before I are one next one more dangerous not for whom you would
Think I sent the Sarge to go to the NCO club and get me a bottle of slow gin they had a quart not a fifth but it was without the volume
I took care of the volume and the day room with it one hundred and twenty proof in the middle of this I called one of the saints back
Here well I can’t tell you much but the saint talked to me when I did come home I believe when I hung up the phone thats when the bull
Rang in anyway a Jewish kid was said to have run down the company street screaming a wild man was tearing up the day room it was
Made out of aluminum siding and I only drank half of the bottle if I had drank all of it I would have torn it down not up well trouble
Breeds trouble one guy was write one was wrong well that weaved in and out just like myself I came to myself and in front of me was
My pal from class that I was in Jose Torres an MP sorry but one of the ugliest Mexicans anywhere not just in California but he was
Fired up with that Latino blood he wanted to fight evidenced by the forty five he was waving in my face in that brief moment of
Knowing what was going on I reverted to the primal beast level if you get in a fight you become intensely aware nothing is hidden
I could see it in his eyes he could taste it he wanted to pistol whip me oh contraire my friend I was fifteen and me and two other kids
Were watching tables for the refinery pick nick the next day well six idiots show up drunk drinking beer that was alright but when
Duck tale white under shirt jeans engineer boots stooge started throwing beer on my friend’s dads navy sleeping bag I asked him to
Stop when he didn’t I stood up holding a cow boy belt with a raised horse head on the buckle in my hand for protection well bright one
****** it out of my hand and slapped me in the face with it remember I said bull he was two years older than me but I was big and all
Muscle then I threw my head back and when the blood rose through my eyes I was blind it didn’t matter is was black in the large
Pavilion I couldn’t see only red just before that I was in danger I have seen what a pack of hounds can do to a **** on the ground
I was the **** all were getting ready to rush in but when my blood hit my brain the volcano erupted on his sorry self I picked him up off
The floor then he needed protection God was there if he would have gone down on the cement floor or into the picnic table how they
Are made his back would have been broken but I threw him across the table two feet to the table over the table another four feet
Into a red fence that was stretched there one pole to the next he was going head first about four feet off the ground that fence
scrapped the floor then when it got to the two points those bolts snapped it sounded like a high powered rifle going off he and the
Fence continued two to three feet off the edge of the floor then three feet out in the grass where it folded up around him the fight
Was Over the others wouldn’t even acknowledge him lying out there groaning the fence had become his safety net the next day the
Dad who owned the sleeping bag looked at the two of us and asked what happened to you two I couldn’t see my face but he had three
Deep imprints of the fence stakes plus the twisted wire was plainly visible the marks were up and down you can say they lasted a while
so I looked at this pistol waving clown and just laughed turned and walked down to the MP station I did thirty days clerking in the
Headquarters office for rearranging the day room to the way I wanted it messing with the army is Childs play then God came on the
Scene not so fun I experienced the same thing that happened to a guy that I worked with at the refinery when I knew him he was
An old man I was seventeen but later when he was dying of cancer his neighbor who was in our church set with him and as she did she
Prayed for him until God spoke to her and said don’t pray anymore he rejected me when he was young now I’m rejecting him the story
Behind this was this man was driving a truck back then they had to go out and literally pull him out of the cab his hands were like claws
His nerves were gone that’s what happened to me the only reason I didn’t use lsd was the kid used it all and then the angel had to step
In before salvation came again I was unaware of this but I went to the fire house I set down at the desk next to this other kid and he
kept smiling finally I had enough I asked what’s so funny you don’t remember no remember what last night you ran in and stood at the
Top of the steps six seven feet up out of the office I ran in said the MPS didn’t catch me I then hollered I’m superman and I did a flip
Down on the cement floor I did remember laying on the floor hollering at the fire chief as he slept in the back room off of the office he
Finally told someone to take me back to the barracks so stupidity was running rampant but I was the crew chief and I did my job
And then it happened just like my friend in the truck that had to be pulled out I lost it I was a basket case I couldn’t think straight
Minor jobs that were simple overwhelmed me when that starts you start looking for answers it didn’t take me long to know what was
Going on this rebels running from God had come to a screeching halt I finally had the boys take me to Monterey and let me out I threw
Away the cigarettes checked into a motel a few blocks from the church had to literally cry for God to let me have peace so that I could
Sleep and in the morning dressed went to church as I walked by the windows I heard the congregation singing the songs of Zion a
precious peace settled over me I was home where I belonged.

This is long and serves as a starting point that I want to continue up to Christ’s day of Christmas if it doesn’t work out least you know
my testimony and you can see what God has done for me but I want to try and renew my life and maybe touch you along the way

Alone in quiet hours

Quiet while people come into the room

“What is the matter?”

“Why Don’t You Create?”

“Lack of affection. Lack of Mutual Understanding.”

It’s a Holocaust and doom.

1,000 knives stabbed in my back

“Why are you here? If you refuse to return my soul’s

Energy? Am I your Shrink within an emotional attack?”

A snack?

A temporary fix?

Some kind of drug that only lasts but a very short time.

“You don’t know my grief! You will never listen!”

Not without a fight.

I feel exhausted.

Why must I aid you in your life’s quarrels?

If my questions and tears remain unjustified?

To the likes of you?

A one way street. I need replenishment.

Of energy taken.

True soul equal distribution..

No more of your punishment.

I’ll find a way out of this corner.

That I was pushed into.

Due to my past?

My deficits?

Me needing you?

More than you see….You see right through me.

Attack me when I’m down.

Trying to **** my victories and my wins….

As you return home and the routine, again, sure shall begin.

I have ideas on your weakness. It is your Father’s Pride

Embedded into you.

Becoming too strict to even smile?

Discipline overloaded the machine..

That you have become.

See me remain, myself.

As I need no energies that come

when I feel and get reprimanded…

from these moments that are quite a scene.

You are unwilling to learn.

No older dog needs to learn new tricks?

Age plays no card in this gamble…..

As your soul needs it’s own recharge.

Feel my breeze as I walk ahead and disappear.

“Salute to the Sarge.”

Unaware
Stand up or burn up this is the fact I will give description of different stands that were made some for self and some for others first
I found myself in a predicament I was up against Bob he had thirty years on me and tougher by the very life he had lived now he was
Having a high time poking fun at my religion at first everything was going his way but then the strangest thing I felt a sensation
Like my spine was turning to steal and like the reverend MR. Black I cut him down like a big oak tree with these words I just asked
Him where he would be in a hundred years at that the grin died on his face you see he just had been released from prison after serving
Fifteen years for bank robbery he was expert at projecting time looking to the future at that moment he was far away seeing that as
Clearly as you look through your front window and observe the goings on of the day for the next hour or so we had a civil intelligent
Conservation about holy things I went to California shortly after this and lost track of Bob so I don’t know what he did with the
Opportunity God gave him but I know this later when I did hear of his death he met no surprises he had already been to that very spot
When God through the spirit spoke through me to him all confusion all the lies were stripped away he was given the pure time to make
A decision with crystal clarity whatever it was it will bode ill or favorably with him at judgment but he will have or make no excuse it
Was settled that night when he started talking to me and ended up talking to God about the most important matter in all the universe
That all should and need to ask how is it with my soul?

I had another time and another soul his danger was more immediate I wasn’t without my own concern I had been to the camp meeting
in Santa Cruz I need to tell you that story later well I got lost in a prayer meeting I found myself without a ride back to Monterey that
Was forty miles away I found myself pounding the high way out in the Artichoke country at one thirty in the morning and no traffic I
Finally got to fort Ord still four miles from Monterey a car stopped I was aware of a GI was just beaten severely with a wrench a few
Nights before the guy at the wheel was a giant broad shouldered six foot six everything was alright except he was drunk as a skunk and
My luck was holding he was a kind drunk we talked on the ride and even found out his son went to our church attending Sunday school
Everything was going smoothly well for the moment any way the next day was Sunday and I was walking through the church and
this little voice spoke my name all of a sudden I was in terror this was the little boy whose father the night before gave me the ride now
I was being asked to go to the little boy’s home because his dad was shipping out to Vietnam and the little boy knew his dad wasn’t
Saved so there I am knocking on his door and I’m talking to myself this giant is on his turf a no nonsense guy and he has a mouse
Standing at his door of course now he was stone cold sober and with a giant hangover he was cordial he might as well as slapped me
And ran me off then I could say well I tried and I could tell his son that God had something else in mind the sarge had it going his way
Then he made the mistake of expressing his belief that he was good enough to make heaven on his own he stirred up the Holy Ghost
In me I was already picturing his little boy losing his dad and then knowing he was lost we locked horns me driven by the facts of where
He was going and the danger he faced was real and deadly I quoted the main scripture there is no other name under heaven given to be
Saved than Jesus Christ he still dwarfed the small house he was in by his size I didn’t care I was after him like a wolverine he wasn’t
Going to that danger and certain possibility of sudden death I don’t know how it went when he got there but this I know he didn’t go
In stupidity thinking he was safe by his own power and conduct.

Things calmed for a week or two then another pressure cooker Mickey a teenager an American Japanese in our church asked me to
Go over on Saturday and witness to her family how exciting a couple of little Japanese people to talk to I walk in here is a house
Full of people what did they do have ancestors come over from Japan it went downhill from there when I started talking it seemed
as Mysterious as the orient they all seemed to be wearing ninja outfits with the swords all drawn I thought maybe they thought I was
One of them because of my eyes and now there ticked off because I’m just a white guy but in fact it was they were given me their full
Attention the hard stare was there attentiveness God left a good word with them.

All of this just brings out the point we need to find God now our loved ones are depending on us they have no one else Paul
Said we pluck them from the very fire of burning in girl by the lake I spoke of her and what she saw was only her natural surroundings
I saw the ninety foot wall of flame advancing ever slowly just like the people in Oakland oh I can out run the flame when a fire
Becomes a fire storm a conflagration of destruction those smoke jumpers I spoke of twenty three as they scrambled up the ridge out
Of that gorge the twelve hit the top and rolled the others just feet from the top were consumed in an instant God’s love is long
Suffering but it does have a limit what he will put up with I tried to make that point in mystical fire well don’t be unaware take
Corrective action today were not promised tomorrow.

Donald Trump Limericks IV



The Hair Flap
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

The hair flap was truly a scare:
Trump’s bald as a billiard back there!
The whole nation laughed
At the state of his graft;
Now the man’s wigging out, so beware!



Stumped and Stomped by Trump
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a candidate, Trump,
whose message rang clear at the stump:
"Vote for me, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!,
because I am ME,
and everyone else is a chump!"



Toupée or Not Toupée, That is the Question
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a brash billionaire
who couldn't afford decent hair.
Vexed voters agreed:
"We're a nation in need!"
But toupée the price, do we dare?



Toupée or Not Toupée, This is the Answer
by Michael R. Burch

Oh crap, we elected Trump prez!
Now he's Simon: we must do what he sez!
For if anyone thinks
And says his "plan" stinks,
He'll wig out 'neath that weird orange fez!



White as a Sheet
by Michael R. Burch

Donald Trump had a real Twitter Scare
then rushed off to fret, vent and share:
“How dare Bernie quote
what I just said and wrote?
Like Megyn he’s mean, cruel, unfair!”



Humpty Trumpty
by Michael R. Burch

Humpty Trumpty called for a wall.
Trumpty Dumpty had a great fall.
Now all the Grand Wizards
and Faux PR men
Can never put Trumpty together again.



Viral Donald (I)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Donald Trump is coronaviral:
his brain's in a downward spiral.
His pale nimbus of hair
proves there's nothing up there
but an empty skull, fluff and denial.



Viral Donald (II)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Why didn't Herr Trump, the POTUS,
protect us from the Coronavirus?
That weird orange corona of hair's an alarm:
Trump is the Virus in Human Form!



No Star
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump, you're no "star."
Putin made you an American Czar.
Now, if we continue down this dark path you've chosen,
pretty soon we'll all be wearing lederhosen.



How the Fourth ***** Ramped Up
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump prepped his pale Deplorables:
"You're such easy marks and scorables!
So now when I bray
click your heels and obey,
and I'll soon promote you to Horribles!"



The Ex-Prez Sez

The prez should be above the law, he sez,
even though he’s no longer prez.
—Michael R. Burch



Trump Dump
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a con man named Trump
who just loved to take dumps at the stump.
“What use is the truth?”
he cried, with real ruth,
“Just come kiss my fat orange ****!”



Limerick-Ode to a Much-Eaten A$$
by Michael R. Burch

There wonst wus a president, Trump,
whose greatest a$$ (et) wus his ****.
It wus padded ’n’ shiny,
that great orange hiney,
but to drain it we’d need a sump pump!

Interpretation: In this alleged "ode" a southern member of the Trump cult complains that Trump's a$$ produces so much ***** matter that his legions of a$$-kissers can't hope to drain it and need mechanical a$$-istance!



Stumped and Stomped by Trump
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a candidate, Trump,
whose message rang clear at the stump:
"Vote for me, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!,
because I am ME,
and everyone else is a chump!"



Raw Spewage (I)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump
is a chump
who talks through his ****;
he's a political sump pump!



Raw Spewage (II)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump
is a chump
who talks through his ****;
he's a garbage dump
in need of a sump pump!


Keywords/Tags: Trump limerick, Trump limericks, limerick, nonsense, light, verse, humor, humorous, donald, trump, president, ignoramus, *****, imbecile, conman, fraud, liar, shill, criminal, huckster, snake oil salesman, Twitter, tweet, tweety



OTHER TRUMP LIMERICKS, POEMS AND EPIGRAMS



Poets laud Justice’s
high principles.
Trump just gropes
her raw genitals.
—Michael R. Burch



Dark Shroud, Silver Lining
by Michael R. Burch

Trump cares so little for the silly pests
who rise to swarm his rallies that he jests:
“The silver lining of this dark corona
is that I’m not obliged to touch the fauna!”



Zip It
by Michael R. Burch

Trump pulled a cute stunt,
wore his pants back-to-front,
and now he’s the **** of bald jokes:
“Is he coming, or going?”
“Eeek! His diaper is showing!”
But it’s all much ado, says Snopes.



There once was a senator, Cruz,
whose whole life was one pus-oozing schmooze.
When Trump called his wife ugly,
Cruz brown-nosed him smugly,
then went on a sweet Cancun cruise.
—Michael R. Burch aka “The Loyal Opposition”



Mini-Ode to a Quickly Shrinking American Icon
by Michael R. Burch

Rudy, Rudy,
strange and colludy,
how does your pardon grow?
“With demons like hell’s
and progress like snails’
and criminals all in a row!”



Christmas is Coming
alternate lyrics by Michael R. Burch

Christmas is coming; Trump’s goose is getting plucked.
Please put the Ukraine in his pocketbook.
If you haven’t got the Ukraine, some bartered Kurds will do.
But if you’re short on blackmail, well, the yoke’s on you!

Christmas is coming and Rudy can’t make bail.
Please send LARGE donations, or the Cause may fail.
If you haven’t got a billion, five hundred mil will do.
But if you’re short on cash, the LASH will fall on you!



Fake News, Probably
by Michael R. Burch

The elusive Orange-Tufted Fitz-Gibbon is the rarest of creatures—rarer by far than Sasquatch and the Abominable Snowman (although they are very similar in temperament and destructive capabilities). While the common gibbon is not all that uncommon, the orange-tufted genus has been found less frequently in the fossil record than hobbits and unicorns. The Fitz-Gibbon sub-genus is all the more remarkable because it apparently believes itself to be human, and royalty, no less! Now there are rumors—admittedly hard to believe—that an Orange-Tufted Fitz-Gibbon resides in the White House and has been spotted playing with the nuclear codes while chattering incessantly about attacking China, Mexico, Iran and North Korea. We find it very hard to credit such reports. Surely American voters would not elect an ape with self-destructive tendencies president!

Keywords/Tags: Trump, Donald Trump, poems, epigrams, quotes, quotations, Rudy Giuliani, Ted Cruz, Cancun, Christmas



Trump Limericks aka Slimericks



The Nazis now think things’re grand.
The KKK’s hirin’ a band.
Putin’s computin’
Less Ukrainian shootin’.
They’re hootin’ ’cause Trump’s win is planned.
—Michael R. Burch



Trump comes with a few grotesque catches:
He likes to ***** unoffered snatches;
He loves to ICE kids;
His brain’s on the skids;
And then there’s the coups the fiend hatches.
—Michael R. Burch



Trump’s Saddest Tweet to Date
by Michael R. Burch

I’ve gotten all out of kilter.
My erstwhile yuge tool is a wilter!
I now sleep in bed.
Few hairs on my head.
Inhibitions? I now have no filter!



the best of all possible whirls, for MAGA
by Michael R. Burch

ive made a mistake or two.
okay, maybe quite more than a few:
mistakes by the millions,
the billions and zillions,
but remember: ur LORD made u!

where were u when HEE passed out brains?
or did u politely abstain?
u call GAUD “infallible”
when HEE made u so gullible
u cant come inside when Trump reigns.



Mercedes Benz
by Michael R. Burch

I'd like to do a song of great social and political import. It goes like this:

Oh Donnie, won't you lend me your Mercedes Benz?
My friends ***** in Porsches, I must make amends!
Like you, I f-cked my partners and now have no friends.
So, Donnie won't you sell me your Mercedes Benz?

Oh Donnie, won't you rent me your **** import?
You need to pay your lawyers: a **** for a tort!
I’ll await her delivery each day until three.
And Donnie, please throw in Ivanka for free!

Oh, Donnie won't you buy me a night on the town?
I'm counting on you, Don, so don't let me down!
Oh, prove you're a ******* and bring them around.
Oh, Donnie won't you buy me a night on the town?

Oh Donnie, won't you lend me your Mercedes Benz?
My friends ***** in Porsches, I must make amends!
Like you, I f-cked my partners and now have no friends.
So, Donnie won't you sell me your Mercedes Benz?


Ode to a Pismire
by Michael R. Burch

Drumpf is a *****:
his hair’s in a Fritz.
Drumpf is a missy:
he won’t drink Schlitz.
Drumpf’s cobra-hissy
though he lives in the Ritz.
Drumpf is so pissy
his diaper’s the Shitz.



The Ballade of Large Marge Greene
by Michael R. Burch

Marge
is large
and in charge,
like a barge.

Yes, our Marge
is quite large,
like a hefty surcharge.

Like a sarge,
say LaFarge,
apt to over-enlarge
creating dissent before the final discharge.


Trump Limericks aka Slimericks

The Nazis now think things’re grand.
The KKK’s hirin’ a band.
Putin’s computin’
Less Ukrainian shootin’.
They’re hootin’ ’cause Trump’s win is planned.
—Michael R. Burch

Trump comes with a few grotesque catches:
He likes to ***** unoffered snatches;
He loves to ICE kids;
His brain’s on the skids;
And then there’s the coups the fiend hatches.
—Michael R. Burch



Trump’s Saddest Tweet to Date
by Michael R. Burch

I’ve gotten all out of kilter.
My erstwhile yuge tool is a wilter!
I now sleep in bed.
Few hairs on my head.
Inhibitions? I now have no filter!



the best of all possible whirls, for MAGA
by Michael R. Burch

ive made a mistake or two.
okay, maybe quite more than a few:
mistakes by the millions,
the billions and zillions,
but remember: ur LORD made u!

where were u when HEE passed out brains?
or did u politely abstain?
u call GAUD “infallible”
when HEE made u so gullible
u cant come inside when Trump reigns.



My Sin-cere Endorsement of a Trump Cultist
by Michael R. Burch

If you choose to be an idiot, who can prevent you?
If you love to do evil, why then, by all means,
go serve the con who sent you!



Bird’s Eye View
Michael R. Burch

So many fantasical inventions,
but what are man’s intentions?
I don’t trust their scooty cars.
And what about their plans for Mars?

Their landfills’ high retentions?
The dodos they fail to mention?
I don’t trust Trump’s “clean coal” cars,
and what the hell are his plans for Mars?



Untitled

Don't disturb him in his inner sanctum
Or he’ll have another Trumper Tantrum.
—Michael R. Burch

It turns out the term was prophetic, since "conservatives" now serve a con. — Michael R. Burch

To live among you — ah! — as among vipers, coldblooded creatures not knowing right from wrong, adoring Trump, hissing and spitting venom.

Trump rhymes with chump
grump
frump
lifelong slump
illogical jump
garbage dump
sewage clump
sump pump
*******
cancerous lump
malignant bump
unpleasingly plump
slovenly schlump
yuge enormous diaper-clad ****
and someone we voters are going to thump and whump
—Michael R. Burch



Putin's Lootin's
by Michael R. Burch

They’re dropping like flies:
Putin’s “allies.”

Ah, but who gets their funny
money?

Two birds with one stone:
no dissent, buy a drone.

For tyrants the darkest day’s sunny!



Preempted
by Michael R. Burch

Friends, I admit that I’m often tempted
to say what I think about Trump,
but all such thought’s been preempted
by the sight of that Yuge Orange ****!



Mate Check
by Michael R. Burch

The editorial board of the Washington Post is “very worried that American women don’t want to marry Trump supporters.”

Supporting Trump puts a crimp in dating
(not to mention mating).

So, ***** dudes, if you’d like to bed
intelligent gals, and possibly wed,

it’s time to jettison that red MAGA cap
and tweet “farewell” to an orange sap.



Squid on the Skids
by Michael R. Burch

Sidney Powell howled in 2020:
“The Kraken will roar through the land of plenty!”

But she recalled the Terror in 2023
with a slippery, slimy, squid-like plea.



The Kraken Cracked
by Michael R. Burch

She’s singing like a canary.
Who says krakens are scary?

Squidney said the election was hacked,
but when all her lies were unpacked,
the crackpot kraken cracked.

Now, with a shrill, high-pitched squeal,
The kraken has cut a deal.

Oh, tell it with jubilation:
the kraken is on probation!



Trump’s Retribution Resolution
by Michael R. Burch

My New Year’s resolution?
I require your money and votes,
for you are my retribution.

May I offer you dark-skinned scapegoats
and bigger and deeper moats
as part of my sweet resolution?

Please consider a YUGE contribution,
a mountain of lovely C-notes,
for you are my retribution.

Revenge is our only solution,
since my critics are weasels and stoats.
Come, second my sweet resolution!

The New Year’s no time for dilution
of the anger of victimized GOATs,
when you are my retribution.

Forget the ****** Constitution!
To dictators “ideals” are footnotes.
My New Year’s resolution?
You are my retribution.



Two Trump Truisms
by Michael R. Burch
When Trump’s the culprit everyone’s a “snitch.”
It ain’t a “witch hunt” when the perp’s a witch.



Horrid Porridge
by Michael R. Burch

My apologies to porridge for this unfortunate association with an unwholesome human being.

Why is Trump orange,
like porridge
(though not some we’re likely to forage)?
The gods of yore
knew long before
Trump was born, to a life of deplorage,
that his face must conform
to the uniform
he’d wear for his prison decorage!


Dictionary Definition of Trump
by Michael R. Burch

Trump is a chump;
he’s the freep of a frump;
he’s an orange-skinned Grinch and, much worse, he’s a Grump!;
he’s a creep; he’s a Sheik (sans harem); a skunk!;
“**** the veep!” he’s a murderous coup d’tot-er in a slump;
“Drain the swamps, then refill them with my crocodilian donors!”;
Trump is a ****** with insufficient ******;
Trump is, as he predicted, a constitutional crisis;
Trump is our non-so-sweet American vanilla ISIS;
Trump is a thief who will bring the world to grief;
Trump is a whiner and our Pleader-in-Chief.



Triple Trump
by Michael R. Burch

No one ever ******* a Trump like Trump.
He turned Mar-a-Lago into a dump
and spewed filth at the stump
like a sump pump
while looking like a moulting Orange Hefalump!
Trump made the Grinch seem like just another Grump
by giving darker Whos a “get lost” lump.
No colored child was spared from his Neanderthalic thump.
Trump gave fascists a fist-bump,
consulted **** servers for an info-dump
and invited Russian agents for a late-night ****.
Don the Con con-sidered laws a speed bump,
fired anyone who ever tried to be an ump,
and gave every evil known to man a quantum jump.
You may think he’s just plump
and a chump,
with the style of a frump,
the posture of a shlump,
his brain in a slump,
and perhaps too inclined for a ****-star ****,
while being deprived by his parents of a necessary whump ...
but when it comes to political *****, Trump is the ****!

#TRUMP #DONTHECON #MRBTRUMP #MRBDONTHECON #MRBPOEMS

Keywords/Tags: light verse, nonsense verse, doggerel, limerick, humor, humorous verse, light poetry, *****, salacious, ribald, risque, naughty, ****, spicy, adult, nature, politics, religion, science, relationships


Scratch-n-Sniff
by Michael R. Burch

The world’s first antinatalist limerick?

Life comes with a terrible catch:
It’s like starting a fire with a match.
Though the flames may delight
In the dark of the night,
In the end what remains from the scratch?



Time Out!
by Michael R. Burch

Time is at war with my body!
am i Time’s most diligent hobby?
for there’s never Time out
from my low-t and gout
and my once-brilliant mind has grown stodgy!



Waiting Game
by Michael R. Burch

Nothing much to live for,
yet no good reason to die:
life became
a waiting game...
Rain from a clear blue sky.



*******' Ripples
by Michael R. Burch

Men are scared of *******:
that’s why they can’t be seen.
For if they were,
we’d go to war
as in the days of Troy, I ween.



Devil’s Wheel
by Michael R. Burch

A billion men saw your pink ******.
What will the pard say to you, Sundays?
Yes, your ******* were cute,
but the shocked Devil, mute,
now worries about reckless fundies.



A ***** Goes ****
by Michael R. Burch

She wore near-invisible *******
and, my, she looked good in her scanties!
But the real nudists claimed
she was “over-framed.”
Now she’s bare-assed and shocking her aunties!



MVP!
by Michael R. Burch

Will Ohtani hit 65 homers,
win the Cy Young by striking out Gomers,
make it cute and okay
to write KKK
while inspiring rhyme-challenged poemers?

Will Ohtani hit 65homers,
win the Cy Young by striking out Gomers,
prove the nemesis
of white supremacists
while inspiring rhyme-challenged poemers?

Will Ohtani hit 65 homers,
win the Cy Young by striking out Gomers,
cause supremacists
to cease and desist
while inspiring rhyme-challenged poemers?

Keywords/Tags: limerick, limericks, double limerick, triple limerick, humor, light verse, nonsense verse, doggerel, humor, humorous verse, light poetry, *****, ribald, irreverent, funny, satire, satirical


OTHER LIMERICKS AND POEMS



Red State Reject
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

I once was a pessimist
but now I’m more optimistic,
ever since I discovered my fears
were unsupported by any statistic.



The Red State Reaction
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Where the hell are they hidin’
Sleepy Joe Biden?

And how the hell can the bleep
Do so much, IN HIS SLEEP?



Mating Calls, or, Purdy Please!
Limericks by Michael R. Burch

1.
Nine-thirty? Feeling flirty (and, indeed, a trifle *****),
I decided to ring prudish Eleanor Purdy ...
When I rang her to bang her,
it seems my words stang her!
She hung up the phone, so I banged off, alone.

2.
Still dreaming to hold something skirty,
I once again rang our reclusive Miss Purdy.
She sounded unhappy,
called me “daffy” and “sappy,”
and that was before the gal heard me!

3.
It was early A.M., ’bout two-thirty,
when again I enquired with the regal Miss Purdy.
With a voice full of hate,
she thundered, “It’s LATE!”
Was I, perhaps, over-wordy?

4.
At 3:42, I was feeling blue,
and so I dialed up Miss You-Know-Who,
thinking to bed her
and quite possibly wed her,
but she summoned the cops; now my bail is due!

5.
It was probably close to four-thirty
the last time I called the miserly Purdy.
Although I’m her boarder,
the restraining order
freezes all assets of that virginity hoarder!

Keywords/Tags: limerick, limericks, nonsense verse, humor, humorous, light verse, mating calls, *****, prudish, lonely, loneliness, longing, America



Animal Limericks

Dot Spotted
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a leopardess, Dot,
who indignantly answered: "I'll not!
The gents are impressed
with the way that I'm dressed.
I wouldn't change even one spot."



Stage Craft-y
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a dromedary
who befriended a crafty canary.
Budgie said, "You can't sing,
but now, here's the thing—
just think of the tunes you can carry! "



Honeymoon Not-So-Sweet, or, Clyde Lied!
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a mockingbird, Clyde,
who bragged of his prowess, but lied.
To his new wife he sighed,
"When again, gentle bride? "
"Nevermore! " bright-eyed Raven replied.



The Mallard
by Michael R. Burch

The mallard is a fellow
whose lips are long and yellow
with which he, honking, kisses
his *****, boisterous mistress:
my pond’s their loud bordello!



The Platypus
by Michael R. Burch

The platypus, myopic,
is ungainly, not ******.
His feet for bed
are over-webbed,
and what of his proboscis?

The platypus, though, is eager
although his means are meager.
His sight is poor;
perhaps he’ll score
with a passing duck or ******.



The Better Man
by Michael R. Burch
　
Dear Ed: I don't understand why
you will publish this other guy—
when I'm brilliant, devoted,
one hell of a poet!
Yet you publish Anonymous. Fie!

Fie! A pox on your head if you favor
this poet who's dubious, unsavor
y, inconsistent in texts,
no address (I checked!) :
since he's plagiarized Unknown, I'll wager!



"Of Tetley's and V-2's" or "Why Not to Bomb the Brits"
by Michael R. Burch

The English are very hospitable,
but tea-less, alas, they grow pitiable...
or pitiless, rather,
and quite in a lather!
O bother, they're more than formidable.

i love how after 70cl of whiskey my
metabolism is up  and running -
i know, egoistical  self-indulgent crap,
but it works! i get to say *******
to 99 people and  say: come on in
to 1 - but that doesn't even
matter, given the circumstance
of the 1 being a schizophrenic;
but hey! i grew a beard
after all, being post-25 years of age,
so a fully grow Amazon on my cheeks
and chin, a welcome reminder of:
the Aztecs played football too,
but it was more like
****** of San Francisco mixed
with golf mixed with netball
mixed with the ailing N.H.S.
chanting: god save our bed-******* queen,
god save our precious artefacts from
Hindustan. and Gobi the cabby from
new Delhi -
god save our... a round of pints for the lot
of us! way-hey! charging into crusades with
a jaguar export from Germany under
the slogan: Vein Diesel biceps-flexed:
too fast, and two of each:
that'll be a pistachio - say it as meaning
lime green, go on - oi! ******!
who's that Russian  hooligan with pistaccio?!
one keg-pouch over here must have minded
the safety-belt limit
prior to a heart-attack and you're giving me
all Abba lip-sarge and surging...
    gimme gimme a man at half time...
two pints and a burger in and i'll be
juicing up a saxophone for a crescendo better than
this one...
well... it was lovely to meet you, send my
best regards to your mother, a sincerely;
i swear to god, when i'm done, the only
person you'll be phoning will be your mother.