Jade sauna
just over body temperature
to increase metabolism
smooth blood flow
and sweat out toxins
my hair is up
there are no lines on my pale smooth face
I'm happy and peaceful
I look so serene
and so skinny
"'scuse me you speak Russian?"
it's one of the cute foreigners
I've had my eye on
flirtations ensued
and it was nice
to be looked at
with fascination
with cute wonder
getting complimented
through broken english
as he ran his hands through his hair
smiling abashedly
trying to make sense of my words
as I did the same for his--
we were up all night talking
"no halloween in Russia,
but if had, you be Queen"
he knew nothing of me
just this peaceful calm side
that smiled and giggled
and carried a conversation
like a feather on the wind
he saw a girl he could smile at
and say
"you are very beautiful"
"you have lovely smile"
I'll never see him again in my life
but what a wonderful memory to have of someone
nothing but kind words
and laughter
and peace
serenity
a few of the things
I treasure most,
yes,
what a lovely memory
of Annex the smiling Russian boy
who drank tea with me
at the Jeju Spa
until the sun rose
and the lights came back on.

All I want for Christmas is a big cute smile that makes me feel
So very great
You see I want for Christmas
Is a big cute smile
To have fun every day and night
You see at Christmas I will party on yeah party ok
With alcohol and softies
And my teeth become rotten
Like times I have forgotten
You see with Christmas it is so fun everybody can get drunk
And we say to each other
That Christmas is a time to be happy
Party with bourbon and *****
As well as a big beautiful drink of lemonade and port
You see drinking a nice Coca Cola really brightens up your day the red and white is santa
Coming through your computer and all
Then your father wants a vb beer as well as a pav and a spiked fruit punch
** ** ** as he pretends to be santa saying merry Christmas to us all
Yeah then he drinks his beer and a nice Christmas cake
To try and show us that santa ain't a fake

When i see a cute boy
...my heart melts...
like i gotta glimpse of heaven
but when ***** opens his mouth
...oh no
oh hell to the nawwwww
.....just everyone else
looking for big ***** judy
same old same old
...whats new
next...

Lollipops to cigarettes
Cooties turned to pregnancy
The cute little girls and boys we once knew at recess are no more, some are drop outs, some are on the news for ****** and others have seemed to disappear from existence
How did this happen?
How did the life we knew so well as children, filled with jump rope and four square, turn into the monstrosity of modern society
The drama now is about boys, drugs, and flunking school, the only so called 'drama' back then was when someone else had the blue crayon you needed to finish your color by number
Computers, televisions, and phones take over the lives of children nowadays, the big pass times when we were kids was to go back in the woods behind our houses and catch salamander, play hide and seek and cops and robbers when it started to get dark
Now?
It's lying to your parents to go out and get drunk, skipping class to go smoke **** and and turning the lollipop in your mouth into a cigarette
Did you ever consider that the lollipop tastes better? That maybe this sticky strawberry mess gives you a better outlook on life?
When you're a kid and you're happy with your crayons and hopscotch you don't care what problems you're faced with: if someones lost; find them, if someone's feelings are hurt; say sorry, if you wanna lose weight; lose it
This lollipop of yours has turned an upside-down world right-side-up again creating brighter perspectives and healthier pass times
So instead of curling our fingers around disgusting cancer sticks and pregnancy tests, maybe we should grab hold of that lollipops taste and lever let go...so the only downfall to life, is cavities.

Sister and I loved to play, to run and twirl and roll in grass all day. Momma gets mad when we go too far but our yard is massive we live on a farm! Running on rolling fields of prairie, singing and laughing and acting merry, shot right through the tree line that marks our abode, slid across the rocks on Old Joser Road, saw an old lady who walked with crumpled toes and spoke too and listened too a pack of crows, plucking weeds and picking a thorny flower she called out to us that fateful hour;

  “Oh my and how lovely, two twins so cute! I had thought no one lived so far out here, away from the town and its charming cheer? Why don’t you come over and meet my pet crows and I’ll show you two a trick that nobody knows!”

  I leaned down to consult with sister you see, she being younger she’s littler than me, I told her to stay close while we watched the show, then we’d be off and away we’d go;

  “Okay old lady my name is Tim and this here’s Tam and this place you’re in, is our family farm and that guy in the field, well that’s our Dad, and if you mess with us he gets real mad, so no funny business in this game and we’ll be nice to you just the same.”

  “Agreed indeed you little man and I can’t wait to see you in my pan!”

  Now I had to think on this real hard. Did that mean something about being able to see or was she talking about eating me? No matter, no problems and boy those crows, did they sure put on some funny shows and acted like they had lots of smarts and seemed just like pets and warmed our hearts;

  “Thanks old lady we gotta go we’re almost late for dinner you know?”

  She moved too fast and came right up and pulled out an odd-looking wooden cup;

“Wait there dearies, not so quick, about that dinner and my sweet shtick, you see you owe me a trick too, two coins I’m asking there of you, you bring them up to my cabin on that hill and I’ll teach you some magic and give you a thrill!”

  “Okay lady!”

  I agreed as we ran, if we don’t get home soon it’s gonna be my can! ‘Cause I know my pops he’ll beat my **** and I’ll be sent upstairs with nothing to eat, so I told little sister to move those feet!

caesura

  Whisk you down the road of boiled toad, and singeing hair, of whispered things and fires' flare, of evil looks from open books, pigeon’s toes and a chicken gizzard, while around your legs it crawls and creeps, my hungry lizard that never sleeps! You gawk! You stare! My wrinkly-face, the dank rank air in my dingy place, the dusty shelves a-lined in books and creepy crawlies in every nook, cobwebs and spiders at every corner, piggies run squealing while the chickens banterer, ravens caw at strange green light from lantern but back to all those shadow corners where little bad things spy and salivate, thinking on what they had last ate, and there you are shaking, nervous, trembling; a porky little piece of meat and something we all want to eat!

  “Oh don’t be scared my little one, I’m kidding, teasing, just having fun. Hand me the coins I asked for earlier, when we crossed paths along Old Joser, draw near to me, come here, come a bit closer!”

  Be careful will I not to bare my teeth, or lick my lips or stare too deep, for one is easy, two a dangerous feat and I so want to have my little porky piece of meat! I stood on a ladder with little Tam on my shoulder, so she could see the *** as it smoked and it smoldered, I directed little Tim over there to a seat and he saw me lick my lips as I thought about their meat.

  “Aha ha ha ha ha!”

  I laughed out loud as I cast in the dust and the billows changed color and kiddies made a fuss, but then the sparkly things popped and shimmered in their eyes, while both of them let out marvelous sighs, bewildered, bemused and tricked by my lie, I threw Tammy in to my cauldron to die!

  “Nooooooo!”

  Little Tim, little Tim did he let me in and punished will he be for that little sin, I whispered a spell and took up my broom and zapped a hole in the floor out in the room, where Tim was running and dropped him in a hole, down a tunnel he went that saved his soul, for out he shot back on Old Joser Road, no wiser no worse for the trick I showed!

Now listen up children or this is your lot,

For I’m out there always lurking with my ***,

I’m always hungry and so are my crows,

We’ll eat you up all the way to your toes,

“Jimson and sassafras, morning glory, woodrose seed,”

“A ***** of my finger, lock of my hair, a thimble and tweed,”

“Two coins, a cauldron, my cunning and your breed,”

“Whenever I’m hungry that’s all that I need!”

Hello there to the greatest girl
Everything about you sends my mind for a whirl
I bet you weren’t expecting that rhyme
I hope it won’t be considered a crime (excellent vocab)

Well I hope you enjoy every poem I write for you
bringing you great joy and happiness is what i strive to do
I believe the girl that is the best of the best
deserved to be treated like a princess

Jillian, you are my loving princess, so beautiful and kind
you are better than all them disney princesses combined
It would be as if we were on a magic carpet ride,
I will always want you by my side

Now wouldn’t it be pretty cute
If i just keep making these lines
with the disney princesses as the root?
I think it would be, so lets

As the prince was so determined to find
the beautiful girl that had left her shoe
As am i equally determined
to bring joy to the equivalently beautiful that is you

As the girl that swam like a fish under the sea
sacrificed so much so she could be with her love
As I am just as prepared to make sacrifices
for it to always be you and me

As the love that a man and a woman had was forbidden
yet they did not listen to what others said
As will i love you
No matter what anyone else says

As the beautiful girl and the beast of a man,
did not care about appearance and became together
For she took the time to get to know how great he truly was,
As you did with me.
This i will thank and treasure forever.

As the girl with the flowing blonde hair
and the thief that at first didn’t care,
came together to make an adorable couple,
Well, honestly I just wanted to compare her hair to your hair, they are both FABULOUUUUUUS

So you see Jillian,
I think the world of you.
I know i didn’t get sleeping beauty or snow white,
I just don’t believe you’d be put to sleep or poisoned with fruit.

I had never imagined,
How you could do this to me ever,
Something small in nature,
Yet enduring in calibre,
The power of your cute smile,
Blooming into my senses like never,
To heal my heart forever.

Her brown eyes so clear
It looked like a little teddybear
So sweet and harmless
It would light up the darkness
Look in her unique eyes
And you'll see she's very wise
Her straight or curly hair
Has got me breathing for air
Smart and cute
The type that boys will pursuit

To my kind and loving mother:
I never sought to be the other.
Fighting for an explanation,
consolation, you postulated traumas
caused a misfire
in the wires of me–
but the truth, chromatically,
static factors (masked by
willful ignorance and bliss)
wrought the otherness you see.

1. Elementary

Back as a child of nine,
fine and dapper in khakis and
a tucked-in button-up,
with parted hair and running shoes,
I began to fantasize
guys
and atonement girls.
Attempts to hide this from the world
were all in vain
yet vicious, as children are.

2. Middle School

***




******

gay-***

Did you hear that Brokeback Mountain is Victor’s favorite movie Victor is gay Have you been crying Where’s your boyfriend Victor has *** with children You’re going to hell ****** Do you know what packing fudge is Gay Do you like what you see Your garden is cute Quit looking at me *** Change in the stall we don't have to watch you ******* I brought you some glitter *** Gay **** ****** ****** *** Gay-*** **** Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay That’s gay Gay


I’d skip lunch to lock myself in a closet and cry.
Oh, my kind and loving mother,
I never sought to be the other.
I didn’t even know I was.

3. High School (Part 1)

Saving grace, Anne Folderol.
Last chance, Anne Folderol.
Only one, Anne Folderol.
Truly folderol.

I’d rather die than be the other
to please my kind and loving mother.

No more, Anne Folderol.
Last chance, Anne Folderol.
No hope, Anne Folderol.

You have the teeth of a crack addict You’re such a ***** Fat-*** I heard he was going to **** himself I heard he had *** with an eleven-year-old I heard he has AIDS Why does he hate god Hey pizza-face If anyone shoots up the school, it’d be him him him him him him him him him

State of madness, state of pain,
the state from which all killers spring.
Darkness, loathing, spite, and shame.

If the Father up above
was looking down in true love,
he would have answered my prayers
for death.

4. High School (Part 2)

Love and pain, Mom;
yin and yang.
We sang in church
until I left the brethren bereft,
and we’ll sing again soon.

But first know that I’m a spiritual seeker,
and that God loves me if he exists
and I truly don’t know– because I feel Him
at times, and sometimes I feel just everything.

And also know that I’m not the other,
that my love and yours are the same.
Know that if God made me, there is a reason why.

That reason is to open minds and hearts to the love of God, which is all true love. But I must love myself first. And when I live in such a way that does not hide my true self, I demonstrate that love. Love me, not in spite of who I am but for who I am.

The shy thing
It's like a double edged sword
I mean yeah it's cute
At times
But it keeps things from happening
How do you get past the unnerving moments
When you want to manifest your feelings
In outward actions
Because no one can see into your mind
Unless you bring your mind to them
But the shyness is like a roadblock
So treat it as such
And break through it

i. when I was young, I was never complimented. I never felt good enough and it hurt and somewhere along the line I began complimenting everyone because I was never complimented and I never wanted anyone to hate themselves the way I did. just because I call a girl pretty does not mean I want in her pants.

ii. we live in a country where a gay poet spoke at obama's second inauguration, where five openly gay senators serve, where all fifty states have had a gay elected officer in some capacity, so if I were to be gay, what's the problem with a relatively unknown sixteen year old girl from a relatively unknown town in a relatively unknown state being gay?

iii. do you want me to be gay? do you want a better, more socially acceptable reason to make fun of me? is my weight not enough?

iv. I was taught the term fluidity by my best friend Alyssa. she firmly believes that sexuality is a spectrum, like many other things. I have a different view on sexuality because I see it as a spectrum, not something that's set in stone.

v. I like making people happy, I like completing people, I apologize a bit too frequently and I was taught how to accept people.

vi. just because I call a girl pretty does not mean I like her. just because I say a dog is cute does not mean I want with the dog. just because I say a painting is pretty does not mean I am going to **** the painting.

vii. aesthetic is a very important word.

viii. there are three kinds of attraction, aesthetic, romantic, and ******. just because you have one does not mean you have all three. just because I like the way something looks doesn't mean I am going to have *** with it.

ix. sexuality is an Identity. not a YOUdentity.

x. I'm not gay, but if I were, trust me, I wouldn't go for such a whiny little *****.

You have always felt a presence coming from your knife
It called you
To use it

You take the blade
And you cut into your flesh
And the blood comes draining out

You feel as though
You want to drink it
But you refrain

You take the hand that bleeds
You smear your blood across the mirror
In your mind
You want something

Supernatural to happen

Nothing

You look in the mirror
Blood still fresh on your blade
You can almost see a smile

You start to cry
Because life
Is never like the movies
Or the songs
It's dull

How many times
Have you used this same knife?

It's over
Never again

You reach for a brush
And start combing your hair
Life *****

You get ready to take a shower
You go to the bathroom
Take off your clothes
And get in the shower
You decide
You want to take a bubble bath instead

You pour out the bath salts
And wait for it to fill

It's really warm
You place your foot into the water
It stings
You submerge yourself
And cover your body in bubbles
You feel down the outer part of your thigh
And scratch open your cuts that you made on your thigh

It feels rough and smooth
You relax and close your eyes
You're thinking of that dream you had
That nightmare

You start to laugh a little
You feel like crying
You just scratch
And cry softly
Not loud
Just
Softly

You wait there for a while
And you sit up
With bubbles across your skin
Slowly falling down
You reach for the plug
Pull it out
And just sit there
Until the water's all gone

You shiver a little

You get up
Open the curtain
Mirror's fogged up
And you squint at your reflection

You leave the tub
Approach the sink
Naked

Move your hands across the mirror
Squint again

Eww

You grab your favorite towel
And begin to dry off

You start to put the robe back on
And leave the bathroom
There's still a little blood in the tub
Slowly draining away

You walk back into your room
Shut the door
Lock it
Take off your robe
Place it here

Then your thigh is bleeding again from scratching it
So you find a band aid
And place it on your skin
It falls off

Meh

You grab an over sized t-shirt
Place it over your body

Lay down in bed
And check out your texts

Nothing

You kinda almost cry
You plug in your phone
And go to bed

When you wake up the next morning
You don't feel good

Ehhh

Headache
You can't think
You are just sitting up
Staring
At your door
With your robe by it

You breathe slowly
Depressingly
Like you
Don't want to leave your bed

You grab your phone
Check it

Nothing

Huh

You get out of bed
Sit down on the floor
Put your socks on
Then your underwear
Then you take off this t-shirt
Put on a kinda cute shirt
Put on some blue jeans
You forgot to put your bra on
So you take off your cute shirt
Slowly get it on
Wires start poking into your back
You need a new bra

Meh

Put your cute shirt back on

Head towards the bathroom
Walk passed your sister
You don't have any makeup on yet
Maybe you can skip that today

Ha

No

Open the bathroom door
Start applying make up
You mess up on the eyeliner
Have to
Do it again

Half hour later

Your brother's pounding on the door

Hurry up in there

Meh

You start to move slower

Hurry up in there

You turn to face the door

You think
I hope you **** your pants

You open the door
Your brother looks ******
You just walk by him
He slams the door
All angry

You're just shaking your head
You knock on the door
You say
Hurry up in there

I forgot my comb

You wait for him to finish

He opens the door
You plug your nose
And grab some bathroom spray and spray the hell out of the bathroom

You then have to go to the bathroom now
You shut and lock the door
You sit down
It's wet

You want to ****** him now
But you're too tired to ****
So whatever

You finish

You get up
You squint in the mirror
You see a zit

No

You leave the bathroom
Forgetting your comb

You meant to say brush
Not comb

Meh

Yeah
I say that a lot

Walking down stairs
You go to the fridge
No more mountain dew left

******

You shut the door
Making a funny face

Your mom says
Ready for school?

You say
No
Can I stay home
I'm not feeling good

She says
What's wrong?

I don't want to talk about it

She says
What's wrong
sounding out her middle name as well

Whatever

She doesn't like her attitude
She grabs her backpack
Puts her shoes on

And goes and waits for the school bus

She just stares down the road
And waits
And waits
And waits

I could fall asleep waiting

she yawns a little

backpack on the ground with strap in hand
Bus shows up
She gets on

Finds a seat
With nobody
Places her backpack down

And a guy asks
Can I sit here?

She's like
No

He says
*****

Meh

She opens her book
Starts reading

Do you know how she feels right now?

Someday we'll all be dead
And we'll be sitting in our graves wondering where the time went
It's no so much a problem; it's just a shame when you realised
How many wasted opportunities passed you by and you didn't blink an eye
Take the cute guy opposite you for example
You let him just walk away
With a thousand possible outcomes from one word, "hello"
But maybe in a parallel universe, an alternate reality, you ran off the train with him
And just took a chance
And maybe you wouldn't be lying in a grave regretting
The boy with the blue eyes opposite you on the train

To whoever he chooses to love next,
Hold onto him tightly.
Play with his hair,
Fall in love with his dog.
Let him fall asleep on your chest,
Even if you realize the t.v. remote is out of reach and you're stuck watching reruns of old shows.

Learn to at least give a shot to his interests,
If you don't share all of them.
Magic, music, and dnd are his biggest hobbies,
I can't tell you whether or not boy scouts will continue to consume a good chunk of his life,
But if you've the chance, go watch this areas Mic-o-say tribe dance.

Love him with every bone in your body,
And hold him when he cries.
Shush him gently,
Remind him that no matter what his anxiety twists up,
He will eventually be okay.
Remind him that his loved ones are always with him.

Go and listen to him play or sing whenever you can,
Support him at as many competitions and concerts and shows as possible.
Never let his love for music fade away.

Bond with him over it,
Discuss a plan for switching off radio privileges.
Sing with him in the car,
Because even if you think you sound like trash,
Chances are he'll give you constructive criticism while reminding you that even with a mishap,
You will always sound beautiful to him. In tune or not.

Take him on adventures,
But also spend a good amount of time at home-
He's a taurus, after all.

If you go to his moms facebook page,
And even a few of the youth leaders, if you ever meet them at Westside,
You can find adorable pictures of him growing up.

Truth be told, he'll probably someday mention how he used to have braces.
It's not that important of a piece of information,
But it's something to look forward to in those younger pictures.
They made him seem extra nerdy,
In a really cute way.

Again, I remind you, love him.
Love him with absolutely everything and then some.
Love him even if he ever yells at you about not opening up if you have troubles with it,
Love him if he rushes over to you if he has the chance if you're feeling too unsteady on your own.

Let him hold you while you cry,
Teach him what calms you down while you're in the right headspace and he will always remember.
He used to tap my hand in 4/4 time so I could sync my breathing,
Just as an example.

Let him remind you that he's probably a bit more stubborn than you think,
Because even if he's going through hell,
If he truly loves you he will do anything he can to avoid hurting you,
Until the avoidance hurts you more than anything.

But I warn you,
Don't believe all of his promises.
If he says he wants to be there forever-
Unless he's graduated college and is finally settled down in his job field,
Don't fully believe it.

He means no harm by it, but when it comes to love like this he is so young and unexperienced.
If you can, guide him along.

If you, by some strange existance of happening,
Come across this,
And you think I'm just someone crazy…

I was, in his own words, his first real relationship.
And for me, he was the first boy I ever trusted fully,
Outside of my best friend, Kyle.
He was the first boy I truly ever fell deep in love with.

I have learned all of this from seven months,
Seven months of us clicking like puzzle pieces until it all fell apart,
Until I finally couldn't take the questions of whether or not he fully,
Truly, truly wanted to be with me.

To be fair- even with my lack of knowledge on why,
Knowing of his mental illness and the stress from everything he was trying to accomplish at the end of our relationship,
I can't fully blame him for shutting me out anymore.
For, chances are, just being too overwhelmed with trying to balance too much personal life,
With too much work life.

And after the breakup, and until I moved away from him,
I will admit I was.. Rude.
Distasteful.
Very, very angry.

I was angry at him.
I was angry at the world.
I was angry at the situations-
But most of all,
I was angry at me.

I will not hide that,
While I could go and apologize,
Tell him I'll possibly see him on campus if I ever get accepted into his- and my dream- college.

And truth be told I just want to look him in the eyes,
And say, for the first and last time with this meaning,
"Always."

Always…
Always will love you.
Always will support you.
Always will keep our memories together cherished.
Always will remember.

I will always remember,
My dear girl,
The happiness he gave me.

And I will always hope
That he can pass that happiness onto you.

He is a goofball.
He is loving.
He is so, so kind,
And usually very patient.

His best subject is math.
His two favourite go-to, warm weather outfits are either a polo and khaki shorts,
Or a tshirt and gym shorts.

He will wear long sleeved shirts with shorts.
I've seen it so many times.
He only wears jeans when it's warm if he absolutely has to.
His humor is either crude, cracking dad jokes,
Or mocking your whining.

His friend Josh may very well get close to you, too.
Josh is a good man. Do not take his company for granted.
He can offer valuable insight to his best friends brain.
They work very, very similarly.

His hogwarts house is slytherin,
He's allergic to cats,
and after going down to as much as I could see on his moms facebook page a few months into us dating,
I can even tell you his entire natal chart for zodiacs.

Even if he doesn't believe in that hippy dippy ****,
He will amuse you enough to listen to you talk about it if you are.

Send him cute little pictures. Whenever you feel cute, send him one.
He will lavish you with attention.
He will call you gorgeous and beautiful and every other sweet name under the book.

He will love you like no man has ever loved you because he is still so new to this.

My dear,
Love him enough for the both of us.
I beg of you.

I lost him completely already,
I've honestly not even a chance to eber reconcile the friendship with him.
And I have come to terms with that,
I have come to terms with the deep seated love that will remain in my heart for eternity.
So please,
Love him. For me, for you, for him.

Back when I was about ten or eleven, the only friend I had was the most beautiful girl I knew. Her name was Jessica and her and I did everything together. In school we were inseparable, always chit-chatting before, during and after classes. So much so that teachers bestowed upon us the annoying, yet endearing, encompassing nickname of "Jackica" - a combination of our names; Jack and Jessica.
     I was so thankful for her companionship, and thinking back it might have been a pretty uneven relationship, emotionally. I was an overweight and awkward Harry Potter fanboy and she was a cute little auburn-haired thing who could've won any Miss America Junior competition in the world, as far as I was concerned. She had the most piercing powder blue eyes. The kind that made my skin tingle and mouth curl up into a stupid smile at any given moment. I felt like she saw me, like she really saw ME. Not the blubbery flesh that coated my muscle and bones but what I was made of, the real me. And I loved her for that.
     Along with Jessica's physical blessings, she was also given an insatiable appetite for adventure. She loved to go to the park at night,  after the gates were locked and when everything was drenched in darkness. We'd hop the five foot chain-link fence and roam around the grounds. We'd go the water at the edge of the park and sit on the rocks, look up at the stars and take turns telling stories to each other with intent to scare the **** out of the other one.
     One humid night in mid-June, Jessica told a story that succeeded in making my skin-crawl. She always told decent scary stories, she was gifted in the art of fabricating tales of fright right on the spot, but this story really got to my core for some reason. I just felt uneasy as the words spilled from her mouth to my ears and with each sentence my muscles tightened and strained just from the mere tone of her voice as she told the story. She sounded serious, and she rarely did, even when telling these stories, but with this particular one it sounded like she really believed what she was saying was cold, hard truth.
     What she said was that she heard a story that her older brother's girlfriend had told her. It was about a house on the outskirts of town, placed just a few hundred yards from the mouth of the woods that lined our little suburban utopia. She went on to say that in the house was nothing all that scary. She said it was an old house, a very old house, as it was a log cabin that was built in the 1700s, when the town was first being settled. Supposedly, everything in the house was just as it was back then, little kerosene lamps sitting on home-mad oak tables. The maple-wood floors would moan and creak at the slightest hint of any weight being put on them. And then she said that no one had lived in the house since the man who built it died, around 1785.
     Needless to say, Jessica wrapped up the story by proclaiming that we had to find the house. And we had to go inside and see for ourselves what was so creepy about it. Being the scared, chubby little wimp that I was, I immediately rejected the idea. There was no way I was going to try to find a place that would only succeed in making me **** my pants in front of a girl, especially the one whom I'd placed the delusional label of "future girlfriend" on.  But, as I subconsciously expected, Jessica talked me into it with just a few graceful words: "I'll kiss you if you come with me."
    
     The very next Saturday night, Jessica and I put on some dark jeans and t-shirts and took the bus all the way to the last stop, the edge of town. We hopped off and right in front of the stop the woods were already waiting, I took a deep breath as Jessica's eyes lit up. She took my hand and pulled me as she ran, me clumsily waddling along behind her all the way to a little dirt pathway that paved the only marked entrance we could see. She asked me if I was ready and I shrugged, saying something like "I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be." And so we started down the path. As the tall trees swayed in the wind, I dragged my feet with  Jessica always about five feet ahead of me, as eager as ever. We walked for probably ten or twenty minutes before the foot of the cabin was before us.
     At first sight, it was a very old structure. I'd never seen anything like it outside of paintings in my history textbook and this Abe Lincoln documentary I saw on PBS. I never knew houses like that stood the test of time. But there it was before me, two stories high with wooden shutters clad in severely chipped paint and a big oak door that looked stronger than any door I'd ever seen. Jessica took my hand again, smiled enchantingly and rushed me forward.
     Once at the door, I was speechless. It didn't look as old as the rest of the house and whoever made it obviously meant for it to last a very long time, taking extreme care in carving it out impeccably and sanding it until it shined with a professional touch. Without a word, Jessica rapped on the door. Three hard times, and when no one answered after thirty seconds, she rapped again, and again. She shrugged and turned to me, asked if we should just go in. I said no and she frowned.
     "There's no way we came this far just to go back home with nothing," and then she wrapped her hand around the rusted doorknob and turned.
     The door opened with no hesitation as she pushed it all the way in. She stepped inside, and I followed. The first thing I noticed inside the cabin was the creaking floors. They creaked louder and longer with each step, affirming that part of the story, making my blood run cold. We looked around, going from room to room with wide eyes. We were amazed that we made it, that we got inside and now we were actually investigating a place that no one else supposedly had gone before. Truth be told, though, it was nothing special. There wasn't much at all to see, save for a few tables, the creaking floors and some very old paintings on the wall. We were just leaving when we noticed something on a table nearest the big oak door. It was a metal box with a small lock fastened to the front of it.
     "We have to open it," Jessica proclaimed after a second of curious inspection.
     "There's no way were going to find the key," I told her.
     "So we'll break the lock, Jack. Duh," she replied in her sassiest tone.
     I just shook my head as she grabbed the box and began to furiously slam it in the wooden table. The sound echoed through the house, exacerbating it and making me shiver from head to toe.
     "I don't know if you should keep-" but my sentence was cut off my the lock flying off the box and clinking onto the floor below.
Jessica smiled again, very pleased with herself and looked to me.
     "Wonder what's inside...," She said, lifting the top half of the box open.
     After an initial and cough-inducing puff of thick dust subsided, the contents of the box were revealed. It was a letter, written on old-school parchment in heavy ink. In neatly laid Victorian script, the likes of which I had never seen so simultaneously neat and scattered, like it was written in a hurry or during a time of distress, was a love letter. Well, a kind of love letter. It was addressed to a woman named Tania and it was signed by a William. It told the story of how William had loved Tania since they were children, and Tania was now to be married to a Pastor named Hensley. William told Tania how he couldn't bear the thought of her ever being with anyone else and that the fact that she could never truly be his was killing him. Literally. He ended the note by confessing his plan to **** himself.
     I took a step back, but Jessica just stood at the table with her eyes glued to the crumbling parchment in her hands.
     "I'm leaving," I said after a few moments, mulling over the sorrow that this poor man must've felt. I headed out the door, Jessica following. The walk back through the woods to the bus stop I couldn't get this feeling of dread from subsiding. It seemed like I felt what William felt, but not in a sympathetic sort of way. It felt like I was William and the pain he felt was actually my pain. And then I noticed that, rolled up tightly in her fist, Jessica had taken the letter with her.
     "Why'd you take that," I said, sounding thoroughly upset. "That's not yours to take, go bring it back!"
     "No way. There was no way I was going there and coming back with nothing to show for it," she said, gripping the letter tightly, her knuckles almost whitening.
     I knew how stubborn Jessica could be and I knew whatever I said probably wouldn't even phase her in the slightest so I did what I did best and just shrugged it off. I found myself wishing I could shrug off the terrible feeling the letter put deep inside me just as easily as I could Jessica's stubbornness.

     Over time, Jessica and I lost touch, as kids of that age often do. I grew up, lost weight and opened up, making more friends and acquaintances, no longer hanging onto the thought of Jessica being my only love. I didn't talk to Jessica all that much. Just once in a while we'd meet up and have a chat over some coffee or pizza. We had both changed and morphed into young adults with different agendas and dreams and I had no problem with that. But on one such meeting, Jessica began to worry me. She said that every now and then she'd open her desk drawer and take the piece of parchment out and read it. Over and over again. And lately, she had been opening the drawer more and more, she said that she felt drawn to it. Like something about it made her feel this deep-seated dread that no horror movie or scary story had ever made her feel. She said that she felt like the letter was beginning to take a toll on her. And, by the look of her, it didn't seem like she was lying or kidding around like she always used to love to do. She had dark circles underneath her once striking eyes, which were now darker and had taken on an odd and ominous color. I was scared for her. And I told her so but she hugged me and assured me she was alright. I wanted to believe her, and I tried to, hugging her back and telling her I'd talk to her soon. But when she turned her back I knew something was very wrong.

     I'm writing this now because a few weeks ago Jessica's mom gave me a call. When her number came up on my cell phone, I think I knew, deep down, e actor why I was getting this call but I pushed the thought away and said hello. Jessica's mother called to tell me that a few days before Jessica had gone missing. The only indication to her whereabouts was a note she left with the words "cabin at the edge of town", and below that, instructions on how to get there. Her mother said she took the note and hopped in her car immediately, and made it to the cabin. She said she was breathless by the time she got to the cabin but forged on and barged inside and looked around. She said she found nothing and was about to leave when she noticed a small door behind the big oak door she had swung open to get inside. She opened the little door to find a stairwell. She climbed it, calling Jessica's name all the way, sobbing and wiping tears from her eyes. At the top of the stairs was the attic. And she said she almost died herself when she saw Jessica. She was hanging from a wooden rafter on the ceiling. And next to her was a severely decayed skeleton, dangling from a rope only a few inches away.

All you have to offer me is broken English
but what you get in return is a broken heart!
"Hi cute pic u me friend?" you ping me randomly;
I am sorry dude,my picture didn't respond!

Not just you,but all the guys from your clan
have a typical dressing style that I can note from your photos.
A smug face,bright colored clothes,unkempt hair;
cigarette burnt lips and alcohol shot eyes!

Don't judge me, I am just sharing my observation
but I appreciate your perseverance of sending multiple messages!
"Hey u","Reply and expect* me","Don't put scene^","Fraandship#??","Change new pic"
and all I could think of is "Not happening bro!!"

Wondering why I wrote this ode to you?!
You are a hero man! An unsung hero in your own world!
When science and technology advances,when countries and continents fight and make up
all you can think of is this random girl who is ignoring you!Talk about goal-oriented!!

You have a dumpy old computer with an internet connection and a Facebook account
and you want to have girls who you don't even know;You are more ambitious than Shakespeare's Brutus!
You get irritated looks from all the girls you stalk,
Yet you are unaffected as you never get to know that!!

I envy your spirit, I envy your hard-work!!
Burning the midnight oil to get ignored by girls you don't even know!
Though you stalk this much, in reality you are shy to even talk!
You are a mystery, a dark knight I might say!!

Whatever anyone says, I know you wont give up!!
You are a big challenge for all those privacy setting developers,
you creep and crawl through the web so much and still
you always remain -A random stalker!!

Doggerel

The limerick is one of the most common and most popular forms of doggerel. This is one of my favorite limericks:


There was a young lady named Bright
Who traveled much faster than light.
She set out one day,
In a relative way,
And came back the previous night.
―Arthur Henry Reginald Buller


I find it interesting that one of the best revelations of the weirdness and zaniness of relativity can be found in a limerick! The limerick above inspired me to pen a rejoinder:

***-Tronomical
by Michael R. Burch

Einstein, the frizzy-haired,
proved E equals MC squared.
Thus, all mass decreases
as activity ceases?
Not my mass, my *** declared!



These are "subversive" poems of mine, pardon the pun:

Bible Libel
by Michael R. Burch

If God
is good,
half the Bible
is libel.

I came up with this epigram after reading the Bible from cover to cover at age eleven, and wondering how anyone could call the biblical God "good."



What Would Santa Claus Say
by Michael R. Burch

What would Santa Claus say,
I wonder,
about Jesus returning
to **** and Plunder?

For he’ll likely return
on Christmas Day
to blow the bad
little boys away!

When He flashes like lightning
across the skies
and many a homosexual
dies,

when the harlots and heretics
are ripped asunder,
what will the Easter Bunny think,
I wonder?



A Child’s Christmas Prayer of Despair for a Hindu Saint
by Michael R. Burch

Santa Claus, for Christmas, please,
don’t bring me toys, or games, or candy . . .
just . . . Santa, please,
I’m on my knees! . . .
please don’t let Jesus torture Gandhi!



***** Nilly
by Michael R. Burch

for the Demiurge, aka Yahweh/Jehovah

Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?
You made the stallion,
you made the filly,
and now they sleep
in the dark earth, stilly.
Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?

Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?
You forced them to run
all their days uphilly.
They ran till they dropped―
life’s a pickle, dilly.
Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?

Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?
They say I should worship you!
Oh, really!
They say I should pray
so you’ll not act illy.
Isn’t it silly, ***** Nilly?



Low-T Hell
by Michael R. Burch

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

Originally published by Light



Door Mouse
by Michael R. Burch

I’m sure it’s not good for my heart—
the way it will jump-start
when the mouse scoots the floor
(I try to **** it with the door,
never fast enough, or
fling a haphazard shoe ...
always too slow too)
in the strangest zig-zaggedy fashion
absurdly inconvenient for mashin’,
till our hearts, each maniacally revvin’,
make us both early candidates for heaven.



The Humpback
by Michael R. Burch

The humpback is a gullet
equipped with snarky fins.
It has a winning smile:
and when it SMILES, it wins
as miles and miles of herring
excite its fearsome grins.
So beware, unwary whalers,
lest you drown, sans feet and shins!
​


Apologies to España
by Michael R. Burch

the reign
in Trump’s brain
falls mainly as mansplain



No Star
by Michael R. Burch

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 be wearing lederhosen.



tRUMP is the **** of many jokes.—Michael R. Burch



Golden Years?
by Michael R. Burch

I’m getting old.
My legs are cold.
My book’s unsold and my wife’s a scold.
Now the only gold’s
in my teeth.
I fold.



Less Heroic Couplets: ****** Most Fowl!
by Michael R. Burch

“****** most foul!”
cried the mouse to the owl.
“Friend, I’m no sinner;
you’re merely my dinner!”
the wise owl replied
as the tasty snack died.

Originally published by Lighten Up Online and in Potcake Chapbook #7

NOTE: In an attempt to demonstrate that not all couplets are heroic, I have created a series of poems called “Less Heroic Couplets.” I believe even poets should abide by truth-in-advertising laws! And I believe such laws should extend to Creators who claim to be loving, wise, merciful, just, etc., while forcing innocent mice to provide owls with late-night snacks. ― Michael R. Burch



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!"



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 Pelican't
by Michael R. Burch

Enough with this pitiful pelican!
He’s awkward and stinks! Sense his smellican!
His beak's far too big,
so he eats like a pig,
and his breath reeks of fish, I can tellican!



Nonsense Verse about Writing Verse

The Beat Goes On (and On and On and On ...)
by Michael R. Burch

Bored stiff by his board-stiff attempts
at “meter,” I crossly concluded
I’d use each iamb
in lieu of a lamb,
bedtimes when I’m under-quaaluded.

Originally published by Grand Little Things



Other Animal Poems

Lance-Lot
by Michael R. Burch

Preposterous bird!
Inelegant! Absurd!

Until the great & mighty heron
brandishes his fearsome sword.



honeybee
by Michael R. Burch

love was a little treble thing―
prone to sing
and sometimes to sting



Kissin’ ’n’ buzzin’
by Michael R. Burch

Kissin’ ’n’ buzzin’
the bees rise
in a dizzy circle of two.
Oh, when I’m with you,
I feel like kissin’ ’n’ buzzin’ too.



Generation Gap
by Michael R. Burch

A quahog clam,
age 405,
said, “Hey, it’s great
to be alive!”

I disagreed,
not feeling nifty,
babe though I am,
just pushing fifty.

Note: A quahog clam found off the coast of Ireland is the longest-lived animal on record, at an estimated age of 405 years.



Baked Alaskan

There is a strange yokel so flirty
she makes ****** seem icons of purity.
With all her winkin’ and blinkin’
Palin seems to be "thinkin’"―
"Ah culd save th’ free world ’cause ah’m purty!"

Copyright 2012 by Michael R. Burch
from Signs of the Apocalypse
all Rights and Violent Shudderings Reserved



Going Rogue in Rouge

It'll be hard to polish that apple
enough to make her seem palatable.
Though she's sweeter than Snapple
how can my mind grapple
with stupidity so nearly infallible?

Copyright 2012 by Michael R. Burch
from Signs of the Apocalypse
all Rights and Violent Shudderings Reserved



Pls refudiate

“Refudiate” this,
miffed, misunderstood Ms!―
Shakespeare, you’re not
(more like Yoda, but hot).
Your grammar’s atrocious;
Great Poets would know this.

You lack any plan
save to flatten Iran
like some cute Mini-Me
cloned from G. W. B.

Admit it, Ms. Palin!
Stop your winkin’ and wailin’―
only “heroes” like Nero
fiddle sparks at Ground Zero.

Copyright 2012 by Michael R. Burch
from Signs of the Apocalypse
all Rights and Violent Shudderings Reserved

I wrote the last poem above after Sarah Palin compared herself to Shakespeare, who coined new words, rather than admit her mistake when she used "refudiate" in a Tweet rather than "repudiate." The copyright notices above are ironic, as the poems above were written and published before 2012.



Nonsense Verse

There was an old man from Peru
who dreamed he was eating his shoe.
He awoke in the night
with a terrible fright
to discover his dream had come true.
―Variation on a classic limerick 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.
― 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!
―"The Better Man" 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.
―"Of Tetley’s and V-2's," or, "Why Not to Bomb the Brits" by Michael R. Burch



Relativity, the theorists’ creed,
says all mass increases with speed.
My *** grows when I sit it.
Albert Einstein, get with it;
equate its deflation, I plead!
― Michael R. Burch


　
Hawking, who makes my head spin,
says time may flow backward. I grin,
imagining the surprise
in my mothers’ eyes
when I head for the womb once again!
― Michael R. Burch



Hawking’s "Brief History of Time"
is such a relief! How sublime
that time, in reverse,
may un-write this verse
and un-spend my last thin dime!
― Michael R. Burch



A proper young auditor, white
as a sheet, like a ghost in the night,
saw his dreams, his career
in a "****!" disappear,
and then, strangely Enronic, his wife.
― Michael R. Burch
　


There once was a troglodyte, Mary,
whose poots were impressively airy.
To her children’s deep shame,
their foul condo became
the first cave to employ a canary.
― Michael R. Burch



There once was a Baptist named Mel
who condemned all non-Christians to hell.
When he stood before God
he felt like a clod
to discover His Love couldn’t fail!
― Michael R. Burch



The Humpback
by Michael R. Burch

The humpback is a gullet
equipped with snarky fins.
It has a winning smile:
and when it SMILES, it wins
as miles and miles of herring
excite its fearsome grins.
So beware, unwary whalers,
lest you drown, sans feet and shins!



Door Mouse
by Michael R. Burch

I’m sure it’s not good for my heart—
the way it will jump-start
when the mouse scoots the floor
(I try to **** it with the door,
never fast enough, or
fling a haphazard shoe ...
always too slow too)
in the strangest zig-zaggedy fashion
absurdly inconvenient for mashin’,
till our hearts, each maniacally revvin’,
make us both early candidates for heaven.



Ding **** ...
by Michael R. Burch

for Fliss

An impertinent bit of sunlight
defeated a goddess, NIGHT.
Hooray!, cried the clover,
Her reign is over!
But she certainly gave us a fright!



Be very careful what you pray for!
by Michael R. Burch

Now that his T’s been depleted
the Saint is upset, feeling cheated.
His once-fiery lust?
Just a chemical bust:
no “devil” cast out or defeated.



The Flu Fly Flew
by Michael R. Burch

A fly with the flu foully flew
up my nose—thought I’d die—had to sue!
Was the small villain fined?
An abrupt judge declined
my case, since I’d “failed to achoo!”



Hell-Bound Hounds
by Michael R. Burch

We have five dogs and every one’s a sinner!
I swear it’s true—they’ll steal each other’s dinner!

They’ll **** before they’re married. That’s unlawful!
They’ll even ***** in public. Eek, so awful!

And when it’s time for treats (don’t gasp!), they’ll beg!
They have no pride! They’ll even **** your leg!

Our oldest Yorkie murdered dear, sweet Olive,
our helpless hamster! None will go to college

or work to pay their room and board, or vets!
When the Devil says, “*** here!” they all yip, “Let’s!”

And yet they’re sweet and loyal, so I doubt
the Lord will dump them in hell’s dark redoubt . . .

which means there’s hope for you, perhaps for me.
But as for cats? I say, “Best wait and see.”


Menu Venue
by Michael R. Burch

At the passing of the shark
the dolphins cried Hark!;

cute cuttlefish sighed, Gee
there will be a serener sea
to its utmost periphery!;

the dogfish barked,
so joyously!;

pink porpoises piped Whee!
excitedly,
delightedly.

But ...

Will there be as much glee
when there’s no you and me?


Anti-Vegan Manifesto
by Michael R. Burch

Let us
avoid lettuce,
sincerely,
and also celery!


Rising Fall
by Michael R. Burch

after Keats

Seasons of mellow fruitfulness
collect at last into mist
some brisk wind will dismiss ...

Where, indeed, are the showers of April?
Where, indeed, the bright flowers of May?
But feel no dismay ...

It’s time to make hay!

I believe the closing line was influenced by this remark J. R. R. Tolkien made about the inspiration for his plucky hobbits: “I've always been impressed that we're here surviving because of the indomitable courage of quite small people against impossible odds: jungles, volcanoes, wild beasts ... they struggle on, almost blindly in a way.” Thus, whatever our apprehensions about the coming winter, when autumn falls and fall rises, it’s time to make hay.


How It Goes, Or Doesn’t
by Michael R. Burch

My face is getting craggier.
My pants are getting saggier.
My ear-hair’s getting shaggier.
My wife is getting naggier.
I’m getting old!

My memory’s plumb awful.
My eyesight is unlawful.
I eschew a tofu waffle.
My wife’s an Eiffel eyeful.
I’m getting old!

My temperature is colder.
My molars need more solder.
Soon I’ll need a boulder-holder.
My wife seized up. Unfold her!
I’m getting old!



A More Likely Plot for “Romeo and Juliet”
by Michael R. Burch

Wont to croon
by the light of the moon
on a rickety ladder,
mad as a hatter,
Romeo crashed to the earth in a swoon,
broke his leg,
had to beg,
repented of falling in love too soon.

A nurse, averse
to his seductive verse,
aware of his madness
and familial badness,
searched for the stiletto in her purse.

Meanwhile, Juliet
began to fret
that the roguish poet
(wouldn’t you know it?)
had pledged his “love” because of a bet!

A gang of young thugs
and loutish lugs
had their faces engraved on “wanted” mugs.
They were doomed to fail,
ended up in jail,
became young fascists and cried “Sieg Heil!”

No tickets were sold,
no tickets were bought,
because, in the end, it all came to naught.

Exeunt stage left.



Apologies to España
by Michael R. Burch

the reign
in Trump’s brain
falls mainly as mansplain



No Star
by Michael R. Burch

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 be wearing lederhosen.


tRUMP is the **** of many jokes.—Michael R. Burch



Doggerel about Doggerel

The Board
by Michael R. Burch

Accessible rhyme is never good.
The penalty is understood―
soft titters from dark board rooms where
the businessmen paste on their hair
and, Walter Mitties, woo the Muse
with reprimands of Dr. Seuss.

The best book of the age sold two,
or three, or four (but not to you),
strange copies of the ones before,
misreadings that delight the board.
They sit and clap; their revenues
fall trillions short of Mother Goose.



Longer Doggerel

When I Was Small, I Grew
by Michael R. Burch

When I was small,
God held me in thrall:
Yes, He was my All
but my spirit was crushed.

As I grew older
my passions grew bolder
even as Christ grew colder.
My distraught mother blushed:

what was I thinking,
with feral lust stinking?
If I saw a girl winking
my face, heated, flushed.

“Go see the pastor!”
Mom screamed. A disaster.
I whacked away faster,
hellbound, yet nonplused.

Whips! Chains! *******!
Sweet, sweet, my Elation!
With each new sensation,
blue blood groinward rushed.

Did God disapprove?
Was Christ not behooved?
At least I was moved
by my hellish lust.



Happily Never After
by Michael R. Burch

Happily never after, we lived unmerrily
(write it!―like disaster) in Our Kingdom by the See
as the man from Porlock’s laughter drowned out love’s threnody.

We ditched the red wheelbarrow in slovenly Tennessee
and made a picturebook of poems, a postcard for Tse-Tse,
a list of resolutions we knew we couldn’t keep,
and asylum decorations for the King in his dark sleep.

We made it new so often strange newness, wearing old,
peeled off, and something rotten gleamed yellow, not like gold:―
like carelessness, or cowardice, and redolent of ***.
We stumbled off, our awkwardness―new Keystone comedy.

Huge cloudy symbols blocked the sun; onlookers strained to see.
We said We were the only One. Our gaseous Melody
had made us Joshuas, and so―the Bible, new-rewrit,

with god removed, replaced by Show and Glyphics and Sanskrit,
seemed marvelous to Us, although King Ezra said, “It’s Sh-t.”

We spent unhappy hours in Our Kingdom of the Pea,
drunk on such Awesome Power only Emperors can See.
We were Imagists and Vorticists, Projectivists, a Dunce,
Anarchists and Antarcticists and anti-Christs, and once
We’d made the world Our oyster and stowed away the pearl
of Our too-, too-polished wisdom, unanchored of the world,
We sailed away to Lilliput, to Our Kingdom by the See
and piped the rats to join Us, to live unmerrily
hereever and hereafter, in Our Kingdom of the Pea,
in the miniature ship Disaster in a jar in Tennessee.



Doggerel about Dogs

Dog Daze
by Michael R. Burch

Sweet Oz is a soulful snuggler;
he really is one of the best.
Sometimes in bed
he snuggles my head,
though he mostly just plops on my chest.

I think Oz was made to love
from the first ray of light to the dark,
but his great love for me
is exceeded (oh gee!)
by his Truly Great Passion: to Bark.



Oz is the Boss!
by Michael R. Burch

Oz is the boss!
Because? Because ...
Because of the wonderful things he does!

He barks like a tyrant
for treats and a hydrant;
his voice far more regal
than mere greyhound or beagle;
his serfs must obey him
or his yipping will slay them!

Oz is the boss!
Because? Because ...
Because of the wonderful things he does!



Excoriation of a Treat Slave
by Michael R. Burch

I am his Highness’s dog at Kew.
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
―Alexander Pope

We practice our fierce Yapping,
for when the treat slaves come
they’ll grant Us our desire.
(They really are that dumb!)

They’ll never catch Us napping―
our Ears pricked, keen and sharp.
When they step into Our parlor,
We’ll leap awake, and Bark.

But one is rather doltish;
he doesn’t understand
the meaning of Our savage,
imperial, wild Command.

The others are quite docile
and bow to Us on cue.
We think the dull one wrote a poem
about some Dog from Kew

who never grasped Our secret,
whose mind stayed think, and dark.
It’s a question of obedience
conveyed by a Lordly Bark.

But as for playing fetch,
well, that’s another matter.
We think the dullard’s also
as mad as any hatter

and doesn’t grasp his duty
to fling Us slobbery *****
which We’d return to him, mincingly,
here in Our royal halls.



Bed Head, or, the Ballad of
Beth and her Fur Babies
by Michael R. Burch

When Beth and her babies
prepare for “good night”
sweet rituals of kisses
and cuddles commence.

First Wickett, the eldest,
whose mane has grown light
with the wisdom of age
and advanced senescence
is tucked in, “just right.”

Then Mary, the mother,
is smothered with kisses
in a way that befits
such an angelic missus.

Then Melody, lambkin,
and sweet, soulful Oz
and cute, clever Xander
all clap their clipped paws
and follow sweet Beth
to their high nightly roost
where they’ll sleep on her head
(or, perhaps, her caboose).



Updated Advice to Amorous Bachelors
by Michael R. Burch

At six-thirty,
feeling flirty,
I put on the hurdy-gurdy ...
But Ms. Purdy,
all alert-y,
kicked me where I’m sore and hurty.

The moral of my story?
To avoid a fate as gory,
flirt with gals a bit more *****-y!



On the Horns of a Dilemma (I)
by Michael R. Burch

Love has become preposterous
for the over-endowed rhinoceros:
when he meets the right miss
how the hell can he kiss
when his horn is so ***** it lofts her thus?

I need an artist or cartoonist to create an image of a male rhino lifting his prospective mate into the air during an abortive kiss. Any takers?



On the Horns of a Dilemma (II)
by Michael R. Burch

Love has become preposterous
for the over-endowed rhinoceros:
when he meets the right miss
how the hell can he kiss
when his horn deforms her esophagus?



On the Horns of a Dilemma (III)
by Michael R. Burch

A wino rhino said, “I know!
I have a horn I cannot blow!
And so,
ergo,
I’ll watch the lovely spigot flow!



The Horns of a Dilemma Solved, if not Solvent
by Michael R. Burch

A wine-addled rhino debated
the prospect of living unmated
due to the scorn
gals showed for his horn,
then lost it to poachers, sedated.



Less Heroic Couplets: Word to the Unwise
by Michael R. Burch

I wanted to be good as gold,
but being good, as I’ve been told,
requires something, discipline,
I simply have no interest in!



Villanelle of an Opportunist
by Michael R. Burch

I’m not looking for someone to save.
A gal has to do what a gal has to do:
I’m looking for a man with one foot in the grave.

How many highways to hell must I pave
with intentions imagined, not true?
I’m not looking for someone to save.

Fools praise compassion while weaklings rave,
but a gal has to do what a gal has to do.
I’m looking for a man with one foot in the grave.

Some praise the Lord but the Devil’s my fave
because he has led me to you!
I’m not looking for someone to save.

In the land of the free and the home of the brave,
a gal has to do what a gal has to do.
I’m looking for a man with one foot in the grave.

Every day without meds becomes a close shave
and the razor keeps tempting me too.
I’m not looking for someone to save:
I’m looking for a man with one foot in the grave.



Less Heroic Couplets: Shell Game
by Michael R. Burch

I saw a turtle squirtle!
Before you ask, “How fertile?”
The squirt came from its mouth.
Why do your thoughts fly south?



Helen Keller
saw more than the stellar-
visioned
and the televisioned.
—Michael R. Burch



Antsy kids of the world, unite!
You don't like facts, so fight!
Call them all “haters,”
those cool, calm debaters,
then your mommies can tuck you in tight.
—Michael R. Burch



Ireland’s Ire has Landed

The luck of the Irish has failed:
Trump’s landed and cannot be jailed!
From Killarney to Derry
the natives are very
despondent and bombs have been mailed.

Donald Trump has alarmed Country Clare:
the Irish are crying, “Beware!
He won’t pay his tax,
his manners are lax,
and what the hell’s up with his hair?”

The Donald has landed in Doonbeg
(Ireland). Why? For a noon beg:
he’s running real low
on cash, so you know
he’ll fit like a freakin’ square peg.

The luck of the Irish has faltered.
Trump’s there and he cannot be haltered.
From Killarney to Derry
the natives are very
insistent his visa be altered.



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



Zip It
by Michael R. Burch

Trump pulled a 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.



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

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



On the Horns of a Dilemma (I)
by Michael R. Burch

Love has become preposterous
for the over-endowed rhinoceros:
when he meets the right miss
how the hell can he kiss
when his horn deforms her esophagus?

On the Horns of a Dilemma (II)
by Michael R. Burch

Love has become preposterous
for the over-endowed rhinoceros:
when he meets the right miss
how the hell can he kiss
when his horn is so ***** it lofts her thus?

On the Horns of a Dilemma (III)
by Michael R. Burch

A wino rhino said, “I know!
I have a horn I cannot blow!
And so,
ergo,
I’ll watch the lovely spigot flow!

The Horns of a Dilemma Solved, if not Solvent
by Michael R. Burch

A wine-addled rhino debated
the prospect of living unmated
due to the cruel scorn
gals showed for his horn,
but then lost it to poachers, sedated.



A Possible Explanation for the Madness of March Hares
by Michael R. Burch

March hares,
beware!
Spring’s a tease, a flirt!

This is yet another late freeze alert.
Better comfort your babies;
the weather has rabies.



Voice of (T)reason
by Michael R. Burch

Love is the highest, the greatest, the grandest!
Love has us all and our lovers in thrall!

Love, but don’t fall.

Love is the coolest, the truest, the Yule-est!
Love is sage Andrew’s Marvell-ous ball!

Love, but don’t fall.

Love is the sweetest, the deepest, the fleetest!
Yes, that’s the problem – a pall over all.

Love, but don’t fall.



Final Ballad of the Unhappy Camper
by Michael R. Burch

I’m low on ****,
lost my fizz,
out of biz.

Flabby and *****,
morose and mourny,
gals’re scorny.

Friggin’ Low T Hell!
Unable to swell!
"More sleep"? Do tell!



Less Heroic Couplets: Weird Beard
by Michael R. Burch

for and after Richard Thomas Moore

C’mon, admit—love’s truly weird:
why does a ****** need a beard?

Should making love produce foul poxes?
What can we make of such paradoxes?

And having made love, what the hell's the point
of ending up with a sore, limp joint?

Who invented love, which we all pursue
like rats in a maze after sniffing glue?



This is my randy version of a classic limerick originally published by Arthur Henry Reginald Buller in Punch on Dec. 19, 1923.

An incestuous physicist, Bright,
made love at speeds faster than light.
She had *** one day
in her relative way,
then came on the previous night!

There was a young **** star of Ghent
whose get-up just got up and went.
Too sleepy for ***,
her fans became ex-
subscribers, and no checks were sent.
—Michael R. Burch

Fair Elle was an eely lover
who squiggled beneath the covers ...
She was hard to pin down!
When I did it, she’d frown,
then wouldn’t do none of my druthers!

There once was a camel who loved to ****.
Please get your crude minds out of their slump!
He loved to give rides on his huge, lordly lump!
—Michael R. Burch

I wanted to live like a sheik, in a harem.
But I live like a monk without gals ’cause I scare ’em.
—Michael R. Burch



Mouldy Oldie, or, Septuagenarian Ode to Cheese Mould
by Michael R. Burch

I’m getting old
and battling mould —
it’s growing on my cheese!

My phone’s on hold
to report the mould —
my life is not a breeze!

I pray and pray,
"Send help my way —
good Lord, I’m on my knees!"

But truth be told,
it’s oversold —
that’s it, I’m done with cheese!



Wonderworks
by Michael R. Burch

History’s
mysteries
abound
& astound,
found
(profound)
the whole earth ’round,
even if mostly
underground.

I wrote the poem above after discovering an article about the aptly-named Wonderwerk Cave in an ancient (March 2016) falling-apart issue of Discover that I rescued from my car. The cave in question lies in South Africa’s Northern Cape province, around 300 miles southwest of the “Cradle of Civilization.” Artifacts discovered in the Wonderwerk Cave appear to be even more ancient than the Cradle’s. According to the article, “The density of stone artifacts in the region is staggering.” The use of fire may now date back as far as 1.8 million years.



The Procrastinator’s Creed
by Michael R. Burch

It’s always, “Tomorrow, I’ll do it.”
Work? I eschew it.
I never collect money I’ve loaned
and the rest of this poem’s been postponed.



WHEN MAN IS GONE
by Michael R. Burch

When man is gone
won’t the sun still rise?

Will anyone care
that he isn’t there?

Will the porpoises
lack purpose,

the marigolds
fold?

Will the doves and the deer
weep bitter tears?

Or will life continue,
glad to be off his menu?



That Mella Fella
by Michael R. Burch

for John Mella, former editor of LIGHT

There once was a fella
named Mella,
who, if you weren’t funny,
would tell ya.

But he was cool, clever, nice,
gave some splendid advice,
and if you were good,
he would sell ya.



One for the Thumb!
by Michael R. Burch

Counting rings, the counters come,
marching to the same sad drum:

“Your GOAT has two, but ours has four!”

“Our GOAT has six, and six is more!”

“One for the thumb! Our GOAT’s the best!”

But Robert Horry’s not impressed.

Jim Loscutoff is trying on
the mantle of the GOAT, anon.

Frank Ramsey laughs himself to tears:
since he won seven in just nine years.

Tom Heinsohn, K.C. Jones, Satch Sanders
and Hondo all have eight, ring ganders.

Sam Jones has rings to fill both hands
(that’s ten for all math-challenged fans),
won in twelve years, as truth demands.

Meanwhile, the only GOAT we know,
Bill Russell, has one ... for the toe!



Mating Calls, or, Purdy Please!
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 I enquired again 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!

6.
It was nearly twelve-thirty
when, in need of something skirty,
I rang up (to bang up) the reclusive Miss Purty ...
She hung up the phone
so I banged off, alone.



Hot Cross Buns
by Michael R. Burch

Lexi, Lexi, Lexi,
so lovely and perplexy,
please meet me for a meal
spicy and Tex-Mexy.

Done with hot fried fritters,
bend over, show your knickers;
then, as your *** cheeks redden,
ignore the public snickers.



New Year’s Dissolution
by Michael R. Burch

The year draws to a close ...
Who knows
where the hell the time goes?

I’m up to my nose
in ill-fitting clothes!

They canceled my shows!
My corns grow in rows!

And yet I’ll survive ...
Perhaps ... I suppose ...

So let’s ring the New Year in
with tonic and gin
and greet the foolish Babe
with an even-more-foolish grin!



Her Whirlwind Life
by Michael R. Burch

for Tallulah Bankhead

“Never slow down
or someone’ll catch up.
Virgins are boring,
give me a ****.”

“Male or female,
it really don’t matter.
Life is too short
to live it in a halter.”

Keywords/Tags: doggerel, nonsense, light verse, light poetry, humor, silliness, limerick, jingle, jangle, mrbepi

During a walk through the hallway
of the primary school
I find hallways
filled with turkeys and leafs and stiff scrawled characters.
What is Mr. Smith's class thankful for?
Flowers and toys and cars and dresses and pink and purple and soccer and skirts and barbies and family.

How could you sum up all of the things you are thankful for in one word?
At the end of the hallway I am faced with a choice:
What are you thankful for?
-----------------------------------------------------------­------------------------------------------------------------
What­ am I thankful for?
Happiness, and family and security and nature and
friends.
I am thankful for friends.
I am thankful for laughs and chatts and cries and sobs and games and smiles.

I am thanful for ****** contortions and 80s dance sessions,
for inabilty to speak.
I am thankful for hobos, eating on the side of the road,
and for devious scheymes of intoxicatation.

Hep beni anlayan bir arkadaşım var müteşekkirim
and who listens to my sob stories.
I am thankful for singing in the rain.
And styling hair in the sink
for screeching and howling
and hissing.

I am thankful for obkirchergasses,
for Ströcks and for ice cream plarlours.
I am thankful for mentos,
and walnuts.

I am thankful for bad lip readings and hilarious youtube vidoes.
I am thankful for unknown languages and nymphs
and for eloquence.
I am thankful for good taste in music
and for strong opinions.

I am thankful for dancing indian pirates with demon chicks and fireballs.
I am thankful for two-headed teenagers and barbeques.
I am thankful for God and healthy choice prayers,
and Hawaii get aways.

I am thankful for huge, hanging sweaters and crazy, funky leggings.
I am thankful for deep talks about the world's lack of beauty
and for poetry buddies.

I am thankful for dodgeball playing mice,
and poor old wenches.
I am thankful for pirate and mermaid adventures.

I am thankful for the looks we get:
looks of loud disapproval,
and whispers of quiet exasperation.

I am thankful for golden men and loud singing,
for crazy dances with crazy cousins and cute brothers.
I am thankful for Aunt Jemima.

I am thankful for banging on metal bars with rocks and shouting at the top of our lungs.
I am thankful for climbing over gates in order to not step on cracks.
I am thankful for amazing humanities teachers.
I am thankful for a laugh when the day is over.
-----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------------------------
How those kids manage to fit all of their thankfulness into one word  is beyond me.
Even the one-word things we are thankful for, must be described with a million words.

Dear fifteen year old self,
I know you have never met me.
And you never will, for I took over...
Grew from your essence.
But I just wanted to let you know a few things.
See that face of yours? The one you cry in front of in the mirror? You're beautiful. You're changing from a cute awkward little kid into a strong wonderful, inspiringly beautiful woman. Trust nature. Wipe your tears, and believe that it's okay. You're 15. Relax. You're pretty. Those big brown eyes will get you anything you wish for. Trust me. I know.

Next, see that boy? The cute one who knows how to talk a little bit too smoothly... Who's a little bit too cheeky.... There's no point in me telling you to stay away because we both know that doesn't work. We are the same person after all... Just be careful...... And whatever you do, DO NOT sleep with him. You're too young. You're gonna have your first kiss, and he's gonna make you feel like you're flying and falling and being caught all at the one time.... But you're not. You're going to kiss people 1000 times better than that, you'll realise it was sloppy and kind of a waste of eight months.
But the heartbreak. When he leaves you for your best friend.. When you're left without anyone beside you. That will honestly almost **** you. But you'll be okay. The fact that you feel this way makes you become the strong beautiful woman you are today. You can get through it, all of it, even the **** that's not about the guy. The **** that is going on inside your head, inside your home.... You'll survive. And you'll write.

One last thing, I'm sure I'm missing a few things, maybe I'll realise them when I'm a little bit older...... But that musical talent you've got, it's there.... It's in your ears... And possibly your voice. That's a grey area at the moment. You're going to find your way. And musicians should come with warning signs..... danger sheer drop ahead like at the end of the road in a cartoon where the path turns into a cliff....... Because you'll fall, when you're around my age. And they are very good pretenders. Be careful sweetheart.

It's never too late.
You're growing up so beautifully.
Be proud.
And try not to be too sad........

Love,
18 year old you...

A boy named Jake and a girl named Lexi had never met before.
They had a class together last year, but neither one knew it at the time.
They both walked into their Sophomore Drama class for the first time, scared and apprehensive.
Lexi there five minutes before the final bell and Jake, seconds before the final bell.

Jake entered the class and quickly took the only seat on the floor not occupied by an unfamiliar face.
They all introduced themselves, all 27 of them, mostly Sophomores with a few Freshman, Juniors, and a single Senior.It was then, when Lexi said "Hi, my name is Lexis Marilyn Manchester and I go by Lexi," that he first noticed her.
She was cute, shoulder length blonde hair, a floral shirt and jeans, although Jake didn't notice those things at the time. Only her dazzling pale blue eyes, and angelic voice.

The guy sitting next to her didn't say his name at first, even though it was his turn. She tapped his leg and motioned toward the center of the circle the class had made in the Drama Room. Room I7.
He said "How.. uh, my name is Jacob Turner. I don't have a middle name, but I go by Jake."
He was cute. He had short, yet unruly brown hair, a white shirt with the letters "LDTA" on them and nice fitting black jeans. The only thing she noticed about him however were his mysterious pale blue eyes, and for some reason, lack of middle name.

Jake didn't even care that the class had laughed at his lack of middle name. The only thing of importance to him was that when he looked over, the cute girl named Lexis Marilyn Manchester, who went by Lexi, was looking at him. He quickly looked away as did she.

The class went on and neither Jake nor Lexi, made an attempt to talk to the other although they did steal careful looks often. The bell finally rung. It was a seventh period class, so school was over.

On his way home Jake thought of nothing but Lexi, and driving.
He stopped at a sign, only blocks from home. The traffic rushed by. The car behind him did not see his car. They pushed him into the oncoming traffic just as a big SUV hybrid drove by. The driver slammed the breaks but still did not manage to avoid hitting the drivers side door of the small, blue, beat up, Toyota.

The doctors say he was killed on impact.

That's what the school told the small group of friends who were asked to attend a quick meeting regarding the accident. Lexi went.

She thought about him everyday for the yest of the school year.
Even some over summer.
He never faded.
She wouldn't let him for some reason.

He was killed on impact but he never faded.

Goodnight moonlight,

Sweet dreams, moonlight,

I am away now,

Driving under your blanket, your bright stars lighting everywhere dark,

It is a late hot summer night, however I have turned the heat on, on this long summer road,

It reminds me of you,

Warm, open, and free,

I like it this way,

Windows down, hot air blowing, there is no room for cold here,

I like to play the radio soft,

It reminds me of you,

Stevie, you feel like the 80s,

And your voice reminds me of hers too,

My headlights illuminating the street signs just enough for them to dance, like everything has just a little bit of magic in it,

The first time I met you, you shook my hand, moonlight, and you were embarrassed about it, I thought it was kind of cute,

I might just keep you in my chest pocket on this ride home,

I will see you tomorrow night,

Same time, same place,

Goodnight moonlight

Do you need a new ****?
Will yours just not do?
Well honey
I've got the store for you!
A gallery for butts
Come one, come all!
There's all kinds of butts
Both big and small

We've got butts that are big
Butts that are round
We've got butts that make
A tiny "toot" sound
Butts that are flat
And butts super small
Butts on short people
Butts for people who are tall

We've got butts that are firm
Hard in your grasp
Butts that are flabby
But nice ones at that
Butts so big
They cover the seat
And butts that are tiny
Cute and petite

We've got baby butts
With the softest of skin
Old ones that show
How old, where they've been
Butts that are fake
so plump and new
Butts that are real
Which are far in few

But what's this?
A **** we don't know?
Yes it's your ****!
And just look at it glow!
It's so very unique
It's one-of-a-kind!
Yes that trunk back there
Is quite some behind!

You don't need a new ****
Why yours is so you!
Who would wear it
If it wasn't on you?
Show off that **** girl!
Because it's got class
You'll have everyone saying
"What an amazing * * *"

This poem was written after watching a few hours of slam poetry on Youtube. Let me know what you think...it's my first shot at slam poetry.*

There are so many words flowing around out there about the big girls. The thick girls, the curvy girls, the p-h-a-t phat girls. About their plush and soft exteriors, their abundant backsides, their willingness to accept themselves and their hopefulness that others will do the same. Their….thereness.
They are beautiful, don’t get me wrong.
They are beautiful.

But what about the skinny girls?

The small girls with petite builds and large hearts and an aversion to the word short. The size two and under girls, the drive thru can’t gain a pound girls, the I AM NOT ANNOREXIC OR BULLEMIC girls.

The girls who will always be referred to as “pixie-like” or “waif-like” or “twig-like.” The perfect model body girls that all of the other girls hate…because of their lack of fat.

Aren’t they beautiful?

The girls with the size 32 bust line, the girls who, at 24, still shop in the junior sections of department stores. The girls who, regardless of their age, their strengths and weaknesses, their experiences, heartaches and joys, disappointments and triumphs, their want or need for life and love will always look like they missed a meal or gave it back purposefully with the intent of becoming even thinner. The girls who, no matter how ******* HARD they try, cannot even weigh 100 lbs soaking ******* wet.

Aren’t they beautiful?

The big girls have to search and search for cute and **** and attractive clothes because of their size. Guess what? So do the skinny girls. Do you know ******* hard it is to find a pair of pants with a size zero waist and a 34 inch leg? To finally find an extra small shirt that doesn’t have one of the top three cartoon characters of the time plastered across the front?

All I’m saying is yes, the thick girls, the curvy girls, the p-h-a-t phat girls…
They are beautiful.

But ******, so am I.

Ha you could never dance
we were always stepping on eachother toes
and it wasn't easy
and it wasn't easy
keeping up with the beat
but my hands
they guided us to the dance floor for some odd reason
we always were clumsy but our clumsyness
always seemed kinda flauntlessly cute
Im makin up words now
just to explain how horribly sweet we were
and your new guy is a great dancer
but I seen you at the bar
and johnny cash played
and you didn't wanna look at me
but you did
and I seen your heart break
yeah
I seen your heart break

I erupt into the night sky and land on the moon,
with just one look into your eyes.
You handsome idiot,
keep your charm away from me,
It's poisoning my heart...

Briano Alliano performing at jupiter moon



hi dudes and welcome to Jupiter Moon and today christmas has come early

with a whole lot of funny christmas carols that i have wrote and the first one

joy to the world


joy to the world

christmas is great

a bumper holiday, i say, mate

you see we have roast dinners

and pavlova and fruit punch

and a mighty tasty super slush

tasty for the mouth, tasty for the mouth

tasty tasty, tasty for the mouth

i rule the world with my magic wand

i wave it when i feel great

hills and plains and rocks and streams to sit and have a look

at the wonderful water, at the wonderful water at the at the

wonderful water, oh yeah, you can almost taste that wine that

jesus turned it into

joy to the earth, oh jesus birth

thanks to the might of cronus

you see as his arrival into the world made everyone happy yeah

we sing the beautiful carols we sing the beautiful carols

we sing we sing we sing the beautiful carols

with all our pride,

ok dudes, that was a great song and here is my version of christmas bells are ringing

marshmallows and flavoured milk

oh what a wonderful sight you see

opening christmas presents

underneath the christmas tree

there are gifts for uncle Tom and uncle Jay

and each kid gave each present a little play

they sang carols like deck the halls

and away in a manger, silent night and joy to the world

and then out came the fruit punch we all can share

we go

ding a ling ding a ling christmas bells are ringing

oh yeah let’s party on christmas day is coming

the party is on for young and old

then mrs ratcombe came out

we thought ‘what a mole’

ding a ling oh yeah let it ring

the christmas bells are ringing

ding a ling, oh yeah it will ring

every single day

yeah santa came through your computer screen tonight saying ** ** ** to you

and he left many presents for mark and tom and little baby foo

you see they fed their faces on  turkey and lollies and more food

and each kid told santa that they were very good

ding a ling ding a ling

christmas bells are ringing

santa coming through your computer screen

to leave your presents there

and at each house he will have marshmallow slice and beer and coke

and *** ***** and white christmas, oh yeah

oh yeah oh yeah ding a ling

the christmas bells are ringing

merry christmas dudes

hi dudes and wasn’t that a great song and now here is sitting at the mall, because there is nothing i like better

is sitting at the mall especially as the christmas tree is up, here it goes

sitting at the mall

and man, i eat too much junk food

it makes me slow

it makes me weary

you see i want to positive so let’s party from now to christmas, fine

i will go to my family’s house and listen to the carols play

you see this brings on a perfect life

i like singing christmas carols

around the table on christmas day

i want to see the christmas parade in adelaide and a few weeks later in perth

and video them for youtube, so i can push up my views

every kid and big strong adult would say merry christmas

and have a wonderful day

and i go about my life filled with junk food saying

hi di hi di **, the big fat elephant is so slow

and i see the kids playing with their christmas gifts oh yeah

they consume lolly after lolly and they will get really fat

they will look liken santa, how about that

so i can feel fit and be a cool entertainer singing

jingle bells jingle bells jingle all the way

oh what fun it is to play

on santa’s one horse open sleigh

and i am dreaming of a white christmas down here

well stop, cause in Australia it’s too **** hot

thanks dudes and now as it is coming on

a bit of summer weather


You see it's the summer weather
The barbecues are being cooked so well yeah
And the swimmers at the beach
are swimming between flags avoiding the sharks
And those crazy surfers as they surf with Santa
they drop off at the night club
to order a pina calada, yeah, that sure keeps us cool
You see it's summer weather
And you sun bake on the beach yeah
put on heaps of suncream, so cancer don’t strike, yeah yeah yeah
You see it's the summer weather
My poppy came out with a nice beer
And my two kids bobby and Toby had a coke
and they enjoyed that a lot
You see it takes away the hot, especially in ice
And it is great in the summer weather
Cause our drinks keeps us cool
You see it's the summer weather
The cricket and baseball is a playing
You see the players take about 5 hours to move oh yeah
And we see these players stand around forever
And in late of summer is the summer of tennis
watching the best players from around the world
and afterwards they go to the pub and celebrate
we say it's the summer weather cause those drinks keeps us cool
it’s the summer weather, the end of another year yeah
we lay the fireworks on the beach
so the lightshow, will be great
as midnight approaches we yell HAPPY NEW YEAR and then we say
what great summer weather, out champagne sure, keeps us cool

and now here is the song summer wonderland


The beer is chilling in the esky
Abc the BBQ is nice and hot yeah
And the kids are playing with their presents oh yeah that sounds real rad
And the swimming pool is being cleaned by your father and you can't swim in it cause the pool claurine
Can **** you well
You see we are running around
Up up and down
In a summer wonderland
You see Johnny Butthead and
Micheal Kenny and Robbie roe
And Kenny gee gee
And the superman of the heavens
Brings us nice weather and that makes us feel great yeah
Walking around singing a song
Walking in a summer wonderlsnd
On the beach we all made a sand castle and buried uncle Robbie
In the sand and then as he called
Out come on ya bludgers
Give us adults a ****** hand
You see when Robbie got out of that
He jumped around the beach
I was buried in sand
And yeah mate yeah I understand
Walking along singing a song
Living in a summer wonderland

ok dudes, that was a great song, and now dudes here is a song about santa claus new journey

you see santa claus came through the computer through the computer through the computer

santa claus cam through my computer, to give the gifts oh yeah

every time he came through the computer rolling around in cyber space

every time he came through the computer, he went up and then went down

you see tommy was a little boy trying to be good and susie was a little girl

who wanted santa to come, oh yeah

but susie was raised with santa going down the chimney yeah

and she went in and asked her dad, how can santa come here

and dad got out his apple Mac and said santa claus comes through this computer

through this computer through this computer

santa claus comes through this computer

to zap your presents there

you every christmas he comes through your computer

rolling around in cyber space

you see you can see every christmas eve you can see in your computer

a vision of santa coming through

santa claus comes through your computer through your computer through your computer

santa comes through your computers

santa will still eat lollies and cakes and a nice cold can of beer

so don’t be shy to leave them out as santa will be happy oh yeah

you see christmas day is a good day for santa to drop by

but for those families who have no chimney they will wonder how

you see santa claus comes through your computer through your computer through your computer

santa claus comes through your computer, ready to zap presents to you

here he is going through your computer, rolling around in cyber space

you see here santa is dropping from your apple Mac with a very loud thump

santa claus comes through your computer through your computer through your computer

you see santa is dropping through your computer, oh yeah let’s party on


and now here is stop dreaming of a white christmas, cause it’s too **** hot, pretty cool dude

You see I believe the North Pole is
Great and has a lot of penazz oh yeah
And Robbie roe decided to host his
Own Christmas bash with a BBQ and beer oh yeah come on
And then Martin pence bought
100 cases of the most expensive
Wine money can buy
And his 12 year old son
Said what about the coke dad oh yeah
You see it"s ****** hot and you have for a drink so what about us
Kids we need coke, oh yeah
And Martin prince said to his son
That we will have enough coke
Oh yeah cute cause it's hot
And we need to cool ourselves down
So stop dreaming of a white Christmas cause it!'s too **** hot
And on the day of Christmas Eve it hit 37 degees and we didn't feel like doing much let alone the preparation of the party so what we did is have a
5 hour dip in the swimming pool oh yeah carn Christmas spirit right out of me, oh yeah come on dudes
And the kids kept on jumping on us
Leaving us sore but at least we were having a nice dip in the pool to cool ourselves down do we can get ready for the party oh yeah mate yeah
So stop dreaming of a white Christmas cause it's too **** hot you see you see with pretty great
Mountains  and candy cane fountains  so stop dreaming of a white Christmas csuse it's too **** hot for that too **** stop dreaming of a white Christmas cause it's too **** hot for that
The kids are playing backyard cricket yeah and the men came out
To have a hit and the ladies are in
There swearing as they cook the bird
But the ladies have an agreement
That the kids and men all do the cleaning up and talk about the sports whilst doing that
So stop dreaming of a white Christmas cause dudes
It's too **** hot too **** hot
Too **** hot for that
No white Christmases in Australia pal

and now it’s time to go, goodbye jupiter moon

He was imperfect
He was young
She loved him
She was crazy
She wasn’t so pretty
He loved her

He had doubts
He had challenges
She loved him
She was naïve
She was carefree
He loved her

He was smart
He was cute
She loved him
She got brains
She had talent
He loved her

He lied
He cheated
She loved him
He became rude
He was difficult
She loved him

He was scared
He was reckless
She cared
He was arrogant
He was insensitive
She was hurt

He ignored her
He hurt her more
She became different
He cheated more
He cheated carelessly
She ignored him

He became scarce
He cut off ties
She survived
He was addicted
He was pitiful
She had empathy

He fell
She brought him up
He got sick
She nursed him to health
She slipped
He didn’t catch her
He got into trouble
She turned her back on him

He wanted her back
She didn’t
It was too late
She felt nothing for him

She was,
A diamond he got
She was,
A diamond he lost

You asked me to put on some makeup.
Well, dear.

I would need too much makeup,
to cover my scowls,
and this ugly thing I call
a face.

There would never be enough makeup
to cover up my scarred heart
and attempt to make it look whole and pretty.

There would never be enough makeup
to cover my sarcastic and strange humor,
make myself sound smart, pretty, cute.

There would never be enough makeup
to cover my soul,
make it seem pure,
innocent - the way you want me to be...

I've been exposed for too long,
too many burns, and scars race across me,
everywhere,
too noticeable, too many
for me to ever use makeup.

Makeup will never make me look pretty.
It will disfigure all that I have,
take away the stories that are etched onto me,
it will cover what defines
*me.

Do you really think
everything you
see and touch or
love with such care
Has your name on it
   *      *      *      *      
*Divinity meet the Great
     *      *      *      *      
Lifetimes healing two freaking amazing feet

The house Mr. and Mrs.
   I suppose?
I double dare them
Great Play "Domino"
Where art thou freaking
match
Lover of all time Romeo

Prince and the Pauper her lovely
peasant dress the big catch of the day
This is the fisherman
All hooks and bait of
workmanship
The naked play Julliete
begin
So totally wherein

The spiritual home
never doubt I love
Shakespearian historian
Two Love DovesVictorain
Spiritual growth

Unconditionally
Freaking Great Earth

Defines your passion
The best creation your birth
Our defeat nothing turns
automatically sweet

This is our
"Great Expectations"

What to value anymore
Constitution versus the
Freaking Show Institution

Full bloom maturity growing
adventure unknown
On the same wavelength
He still dresses the same
In the Same town
New York Serendipity
Ice cream cookie dough mix the
freak shakes

That's great no time for breaks
The Baskin sin Robbins
Robin Bob Bobbin

People are not surviving
Their world is too weak
They cannot stretch to hold

The French connection kiss
fourteen carats of gold
Making a rise in good stock
Cattle sold
The Trump Tower fall out stars
The great year for puzzles

The worlds are full of moments
when we shouldn't be laughing
Not a great time he meets your
sadness
Round star of tears kindness

In her movement happiness walk
The worst times bring out her
   freaky nature  

Never aches either to change
Furniture looks modern cold
freaking great hot she was told

To be bonded in a marriage
Feeling older like her antique
wicker baby carriage
Eiffel tower the powerful
romance hour meeting her
happy hour

He is shopping for suits
Going back to his Brooklyn roots
smells of food feeling good

Getting into someone's mind
Meet Robin Hood
If I can turn back time the vessel
The Joker wild fossil

Like a freaking booker
there is no guarantee
The Suspense is killing me
don't freak out

Not paying your rent on-time
Those specks marked up your glasses
Time passes but your making a
spectacle of yourself

Imagine the world all alone
Brillantina smiling at
the Mona Lisa petite ballerina
Great Professor brother
Freaking out sister
Two-headed circus the Freakshow  
The haves or
the have-nots week went slow

The trees someone's apple poison
Gives someone such pleasure
companion what a complicated
mission

  Too deeply dwell in the possibilities

Each morning we are born again
Broke some blood capillaries
Or time will tell the Vampire Diaries

Tomorrow is another day
How you wish every day was payday
Almond eyes creaminess
The pick-up color of your dress
What is curdling freaky spooking
No time to Hail the Mary
Milk Soy what a cute
little miracle boy

Even talking on your
Light up tree ringtones
Out of your comfort
high cheekbones
Egyptian Camels sandstorm
Kiss your Mother just feel

His smile fireplace candescent
With your lover, he could
paint your body how
time just went in a heartbeat

The world is moving but
you're losing some gravity
But he lifts some parts
Sinking your teeth into the
best corn on the cob

Medieval times his
sword is taking
Anew freaking shape
Emerging and peeking out
Hair is French braided fine
knotted

He zooms out freaking great
one of a kind Corvette
Calling to you your name
He told the world
standing like a God
We are all freaking great
  Poets* Just start to know it

Chickens
clucking
white
feathered
pantaloons
Cute
I don't want to eat you
cute chickens
in crisp pantaloons
Not hungry
Drumsticks
Wings
Two ******* please
Cole slaw
Biscuits and honey
Mashed potatoes and gravy
Confused
I don't want to eat you
Chickens
clucking
white
feathered
pantaloons
Cute
I don't want to eat you
Popeyes,Lee’s, KFC-
Are your chickens this pretty?