You funny.
I can be funny too.
I've got a functioning funny bone,
just like you.
Watch me hit it on this thing.
Ouch!
Hey, wasn't that funny though?
Didn't you see?
Let me tell you a joke:
There once was this guy who set out to type a joke,
but halfway through it his funny bone broke!
Ouch.

This one time, I traded cigarettes for jokes with a few of the homeless folk who live in Orlando.
I was still in high school then, but I can still remember how they went!
Well, actually, I can only recall two of them.
They go like this:

"If you have fifty ***** and fifty politicians in the same room,
then what do you have?"

"Um, I don't know."

"A hundred people who don't know **** about ****!"

Hahahahahahaha

"What do you call a *** on roller blades?"

"Hmm, no idea."

"Rolaids!"

Contemplate for a moment
the pleasures of zero,
in a strange uneasy pause
from your important life.

Belly button fuzz, dust mice,
stale chips in wrapper,
and long lost keys,
in furry fresco
under your couch.

Strange modern art forms,
swept nose wrinkled,
***** to bone
to the wastecan,
unrecorded for posterity.

Across the planet is a woman,
picking over dumpsters,
her favorite flowers
wilted from gravestones
to her table.

Across the ocean
theres an anonymous man,
sleeping under papers and box
snoring a lullaby
for some subway train;

No deadline to mortgage,
rolaids past lunch,
the quality of problems
light years and eons
to yours.

How does it strike you, friend?

Romantic translantic,
Bromade,
Rolaids,
*** revolution,
the rock group The *** Pistols,
Rhyming Simon,
Simple Simon,
the list is a tisk
of a fit
of Pitbull
is about all
as in Fall Paul.
Reminiscing
try me out
to get some clout
about a lout
and a flout
in a nostalgic
oppressed
society
of ice tea
and cream of wheat