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David Nelson Sep 2011
Out Behind the Barn

me and Jimmy Dickens
were in the barnyard feeding chickens
we were both 11 about that time

when up the road came Susie Kasper
with her cousins Ted and Jasper
a couple of teens headed for a life of crime

they signaled out to us
I could hear Teddy cuss
they walked up and whipped out a couple of butts

they said here take a puff
if you like this I got better stuff
so I did just like a dumb old klutz

I coughed and I wheezed
I farted and then I sneezed
my eyes were leaking like a sieve

Jimmy was smarter I guess
but he too finally said yes
took a hit and felt the burn of a shiv

we both puked as they laughed
it was there very special craft
they always managed to make you look like a fool

but they patted us on the backs
said boys now just relax
you won't learn a lesson like this in no school

then Susie gave me a big wet kiss
wow sure wasn't expecting this
I was in a trance until I heard this horn

it was my mom back from the store
she yelled someone help me with this door
but I was busy gettin educated out behind the barn  

Gomer LePoet....
Phil Mar 2011
Do you have curly hair?
Is the top of your head not bare?
When in the shower, and using shampoo, do you have to take care?
Even when shampooing a mare?
Well then, I have a story to share.

My hair is curly, and it is a Jew Fro.
Its totally badass bro,
And bigger then your big toe.
After this poem, to a party I go.

The Fro is made of little curls,
It doesn’t help get pretty girls,
Hopefully it won’t make them hurl.

Never sticky guarantee
It enlightens me,
And helps with tai chi
Unfortunately I have no key,
What’s worse is Kasper is a DDD.

Every now and then, it gets slicked back by Shoes,
In any way in which we choose.
When the cows see it they all give moos,
I think those kids deserve some *****.
JWU!
Please don’t sue,
Because, I really don’t have a clue.
BOO! Let us surprise you with a dijeridoo.

If left unwashed it gets *****,
Not as bad as a kid named Klappy.
Sometimes he transforms into Slappy,
But if you ask me, the fro makes us all a little happy.
Hopefully, this poem isn’t ******.
Laugh, this is supposed to be funny
David Nelson Jul 2013
Out Behind the Barn

me and Jimmy Dickens
were in the barnyard feeding chickens
we were both 11 about that time

when up the road came Susie Kasper
with her cousins Ted and Jasper
a couple of teens headed for a life of crime

they signaled out to us
I could hear Teddy cuss
they walked up and whipped out a couple of butts

they said here take a puff
if you like this I got better stuff
so I did just like a dumb old klutz

I coughed and I wheezed
I farted and then I sneezed
my eyes were leaking like a sieve

Jimmy was smarter I guess
but he too finally said yes
took a hit and felt the burn of a shiv

we both puked as they laughed
it was there very special craft
they always managed to make you look like a fool

but they patted us on the backs
said boys now just relax
you won't learn a lesson like this in no school

then Susie gave me a big wet kiss
wow sure wasn't expecting this
I was in a trance until I heard this horn

it was my mom back from the store
she yelled someone help me with this door
but I was busy gettin educated out behind the barn  

Gomer LePoet....
concept based on old country song by Little Jimmy Dickens
Mary Gay Kearns Feb 2018
I use to to call you funny boy
Because you made me laugh
With that wide smile
And cheeky grin
Red hair like a Cabbage Patch doll.

Clever with puzzles on the floor
Computer games you adored
Always shy when I called
School reports I could applaud.

All the teachers thought you bright
Gave you prise for your insight
But they did not yet see
The hidden qualities to be.

On your bike on the green
Travelling round with a team
Many friends you did have
Turned into a likely lad.

From that quiet and shy child
Something different did emerge
Clever , yes, without a doubt
But cared little for convention's shout.

Dyed your hair bright blonde
Wearing earrings wasn't wrong
All the teachers turned to see
Someone cheeky as could be .

To my funny boy, Kasper, love Grandma xxxx
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2018
-

the n.s.a. boys ought to know, after all, shuttle in space? no ******* carpenter could do that one... the MEA CULPA ******* is... spoken on... DEAF... EARS; i.e., if there is an "i", there most certainly is a: you.

and what's wrong with the imitation
of st. peter via van gogh?
                   two ******* ears?!

they call him the christ church of
the open heart,
       a heart open, in a pose of
being crucified,
   by modern standards,
        that's man, with a heart
as an iron maiden,
      sitting in a chair,
           pretending he's posing
for a ****.

no point grinding your teeth son,
if, you don't have a rifle.

          answer: give me a pistol
and i'll show you how
the guillotine, that *****-of-a-mother
of napoleon didn't give
birth to him...

        and because girls go left,
and the boys go right...
         we can have elemental
attire, post-scriptum vive -
         men don the earth,
women don the fire...

          and that's H, H similis,
Y: breathes the air,
      W: move the waves...

           ah, my modern lepers,
volunteers for the "cause"...
           vetrans are our modern lepers...
but then again, who would
know what the sand-she-imp
says, when wars are no longer
faught with brute, axe and sword,
but by mere bling, bling bling...

           as soon as paper money is
devauled, so will the toys, weilded...
  no one has ever thought
it worthwhile to craft mountains
from sand-dunes!
        as sahara was once a mountain
range...
             these ******* arabs
think they can fake sand with metal?

    of christ with an open heart
in a pose very much unlike a perched
crow, hunched on a rooftop
or rather man sitting in a chair...
    an open heart...
          my heart, an iron maiden...
but then again:
             in a scenario transcribed
to us...

             what is more comfortable?
the ragnarök sea at Hvalba,
            the sensible seeking for
the flight of Icarus at Lønin
                a gift of yolk,
prior to the foetus!

           does woman not understand
chicken?!
           how can you have
a moral tendon, while still
eating eggs?! sanctifying them?!
what, is wrong with, you, "people"!
you talk abortions with
a moral compass as if
  the 6 day Lønin transition
didn't take place!
          castrato sing-along...
*******... sunshines!
         daddy's whittle girrrrrrls...

egg ≠ there's a foetus inside it...
because the Faroese know
that once a spermatoid starts evolving
the egg is not to be eaten!
   break my ***** while you're
at it?  why not chop them off
and have it over and done with...

women really shouldn't eat eggs...
chicken eggs...
          or any eggs for that matter...
what?! i'm eating ******* abortions
all the ******* ****** time
and yet: sanctity!
    sacred!
                 apparently the yolk
proves the non existence of
**** *****...
                 its ooh ooh... kasper
         zee freundlichgeist!

         so why the delay the ******
matter if it's not about: lounging...
  getting happy when you're 80?!
huh?!

            came the fish, the lizard,
the hybrid lizard (bird),
       came the fish, came the mammal,
and then came, irish politics...

     how can a woman have ownership
of *****, when in birds
there's a delay period,
meaning: i'm eating a *******
yoke of egg, and i don't see not
little embryo of a whittle yella
sticking in between my teeth...

    **** me... this is one hell of a party!
are eggs abortions?
  or just the non-existent reflex
mechanism of women?
           if birds have a 6 day delay
button implanted in them...
and the Faroease people know
that...
           my my...
                      how many slaves
of ****-****-and-*****
         i see, as i walk among them.

/ pa pa don't preach, my ma ma gonna lie...
i'm hardly in love but
i'm most certainly a dependent *****...
pa pa don't preach, my ma ma gonna lie...
i'm so much, hardly in love,
i might as well... cry. /

            life's cruel, deal with it;
last time i checked...
        i think my parents lied to me that
i had a twin brother,
  that died at child-birth...
   as a child they had this lament
configuration running in their heads
with the sentence:
    in this world you have someone
who looks exactly like you...
    those exact words...
aww... but poor matti doesn't get to tell
his mournful tale...
           he just needs to hear
the ****** english in their
post-scriptum 20th angst of cities
built upon coal-mining...
       if they ever get to learn
about the atom bomb... tell me...
        maybe seeing a ******* wind-turbine
might change their xenophobic-claustrophobia
of their own, kin.

i'm still going to eat eggs,
  well "abortions"...
        6, ******* days!
                  and on the 7th?!
   god didn't rest, he created life!
    as those at the Lønin descent,
about the Fulmar will tell you.
Kasper Feb 2020
This poem is untitled
Why?
Because it can be

What is a title
But a fancy name?
That's what she said

I go by Kasper
But my name is unknown
Just like where Elsa goes

This poem is very bad
I'm stating what's on my mind
I don't know what to do

So no harsh feelings?
Pretty please?
I'll just make this the end

— The End —