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He was older than he felt
but his accomplishments
made him feel like he
was trailing behind.

Middle school said the
next step mattered.
High school said the
next step mattered.
College said your
degree would matter.
Here I am
making your drink.

Hey—did you hear?
I’m selling salvation
in a pamphlet.
Oh—is it clear?
I’m in cheap slacks
on your cheap

People are dying older.
Politics keep getting bolder.
Can’t afford my prescription refill.
Sign me up for war. Use your
******* blinker. I’m only a season

He looked younger than
he was, all just because
he didn’t live life hard.
Nothing wrong with that—
some people say it’s lazy,
while eroding their bodies.

I thought that looks
would matter.
I thought wits
would matter.
That a career was just
a ladder
you scaled.
Here I am
managing pennies.
There you are
managing memories.
Hope I can afford a

Hey—did you hear?
Your death won’t even be free.
Oh—is it clear?
You’re a tenant in your plot
until the landlord forgets.

People are getting older.
Politics are getting bolder.
Choosing insurance over groceries.
Sign me up for Hulu. Five dollars on
pump five. I’m only a paycheck behind.
Ren Sturgis Apr 2019
All this pain I feel Inside
makes me want to ****;
all the Others and rob them of free will.
They think I'm Good and Sweet,
But on the Inside it doesn't look that neat.

I'm just another Monster lurking.
daycrow Sep 13
oh, cyrus-
i know you never wanted to die.
     are you still in denial?
hades lives two doors down the street,
     and your bones are as cold as lenore's.
it was years ago, cyrus,
that they took you and hid you away.
Are you glad for the change,
     for the progress you've made,
or would you trade it all back for yesterday?
we can't help but look back

If anyone knows any other "oh" names I can use I would love to make this a 3-part series
That Girl Sep 7
“You take everything too seriously.”
“You just don’t have a sense of humor.”
“No matter how I react it’s wrong.”
I take things too seriously?
I’m sorry that I’m not always cracking jokes.
I don’t have a sense of humor?
I didn’t know to laugh at jokes at my expense.
Why am I always the punchline?
Why is my mental health a joke to you?
No matter how you react it’s wrong?
It’s always wrong because you always react the same way.
You never make an effort to change how you react to me.
Yet I’m always the one that’s sorry.
I’m the bad guy.
Put me in handcuffs and lock me away.
Why aren’t you ever sorry?
I guess I missed the memo from God stating your perfection.
My anger is never justified but yours is.
I just need to accept the fact that you will never admit to being wrong.
Accept the fact that I will never hear you say sorry.
I wrote you a letter saying sorry.
But now all I want to do is rip it up.
Burn it.
Throw the ashes into the lake.
Maybe I’ll jump in while I’m there.
Passion Jun 19
A truth did I find
Though in all truth I was not the fist to give it mind
Many before me have found
What I am about to expound
That is that most look upon suicide as a victimless crime
While in truth it is the opposite and kills all at one time
For it insults all creation
It puts down every relation
It ends all for that person
And commands all to darken
By putting out their life
They quench all life
By saying they are done with the world
They declare themselves better than all the world
And though they accuses their behavior by some emotion
It does not justify their horrendous notion
For the ****** claims the same excuse
But they do this to no use
Tell me know,
Does this make sense?
Or should I, my rambling, dispense?
Tell me what you think...
The first time
You told me
I love you
I believed it

I put the
I love you
In my

I love you’s
Everyday since
I still

Just enough room
For the next
I love you’s

Because it’s
Seriously silly
When we were  not taking so serious
dig the land to make a great hole to trap the people in serious
pit so deep and those fallen never awaken very serious
we recognize as criminals than serious.
Limericks III - Grab Bag

Being a peace activist, I once wrote a limerick in an attempt to stop needless wars:

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 have even written a double limerick about writing limericks:

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!

I have written one of the few, if not the only, antinatalist limericks:

The Heimlich Limerick
by Michael R. Burch

for T. M.

The sanest of poets once wrote:
"Friend, why be a sheep or a goat?
Why follow the leader
or be a blind *******?"
But almost no one took note.

At times I have distilled longer poems down to the approximate size of a limerick:

by Michael R. Burch

You came to me as rain breaks on the desert
when every flower springs to life at once,
but joy is an illusion to the expert:
the Bedouin has learned how not to want.

I have even tried to reform our political system with limericks, without success:

15 Seconds
by Michael R. Burch

Our president’s *** life―atrocious!
His "briefings"―bizarre hocus-pocus!
Politics―a shell game.
My brief moment of fame?
It flashed by before Oprah could notice!

Rallying the Dupes
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

after Anaïs Vionet

Houston, we have a problem:
the virus is multiplying;
meanwhile, our Demander-in-Chief
keeps lying, lying, lying.

Houston, we have a problem:
the Astros are now the Nau(gh)ts,
but Tweety will still pack the ’Dome
untroubled by actual thoughts.

Originally published by LIGHT

While most limericks are humorous, the form can been adapted for more serious purposes. Here's a poem of mine that can be shared with anyone it might help . . .

Self Reflection
by Michael R. Burch

for anyone struggling with self-image

She has a comely form
and a smile that brightens her dorm . . .
but she’s grossly unthin
when seen from within;
soon a griefstricken campus will mourn.

Yet she’d never once criticize
a friend for the size of her thighs.
Do unto others—
sisters and brothers?
Yes, but also ourselves, likewise.

This limerick more or less sums up my approach to writing limericks:

Grave Thoughts
by Michael R. Burch

as a poet i’m rather subVerse-ive;
as a writer i much prefer Curse-ive.
and why not be brave
on my way to the grave
since i doubt that i’ll end up reHearse-ive?

NOTE: “Subversive,” “cursive” and “rehearse-ive” are double entendres: subversive/below verse, cursive/curse, rehearsed/recited and re-hearsed (reincarnated to end up in a hearse again).

The Bachelor Spectacular

One heart? Tossed aside.
The other? A bride’s.
In all his great wisdom, the bachelor decides.

Eeenie, mean-ie, mine-y, mo’,
one gal must stay and one must go.
If she hollers? That’s the show!

No heart can handle such despair!
But hearts get broken, hearts repair.
Next season? The treasoned will rule the air.

Originally published by Light

Low-T Hell
by Michael R. Burch

I’m living in low-T hell ...
My get-up has gone: Farewell!
I need to write checks
if I want to have ***,
and my love life depends on a gel!

There once was a poet from Nashville
which hockey fans rechristened Smashville,
but his odd limericks
pulled so many weird tricks
it’s lately been called Ogden Gnashville.
—Michael R. Burch

There once was a poet from Tennessee
who was known to indulge in straight Hennessey
for his heart had been broken
and cruelly ripped open
by an icy-hearted Lady of Paree.
—Michael R. Burch

There once was a girl with small *****
who would only go out with young rubes,
but their c-cks were too small
so she sentenced them all
to kissing her fallopian tubes.
—Michael R. Burch

A coquettish young lady of France
longed to have men in her pants,
but in lieu of real joys
she settled for boys,
then berated her lack of romance.
—Michael R. Burch

A virginal young lady of France
longed to have c-cks in her pants
but in lieu of real boys
she settled for toys
& painted pinkies to make her bits dance.
—Michael R. Burch

The Vampire's Spa Day Dream
by Michael R. Burch

O, to swim in vats of blood!
I wish I could, I wish I could!
O, 'twould be
so heavenly
to swim in lovely vats of blood!

The poem above was inspired by a Josh Parkinson depiction of Elizabeth Bathory swimming up to her nostrils in the blood of her victims, with their skulls floating in the background.

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