O my sweet senorita
I searched for true love
And I found you
When I’m in pain you are my balm
And in your ***** I find solace
One who keeps my heart blazing
To you will my heart beat all the way
For you are mine forever
As the succulent petals
Is your love to me, O! Sweet senorita
I shall not cease to **** from it
But will show it for people to see
What a sweet senorita you are
When from my eyes tears drops
At the touch of your hanky on my face
All the way I find solace
Am calm when in your ***** I lay
And to every other lady I’ll say nay
When with you I play
And with you I will stay

senorita
her name is ******
living in a half empty cup
under neath the stars
of a lofts stairs.

****** dances and dreams
wonders if life is all it seems
as its perceived,
questions her thoughts
traces her dreams

chases the feelings
that so desperatley brings ****** to her knees
perhaps there is a plan
maybe its all just a test

as ****** sips her cup
under the stairs
a man comes and says hey bonita como se llamo
******, she speaks softly and smiles
hola senorita he replys

senorita, his lover, my glass shards
it was one of the shortest nights when
he brought the bright girl-child
in slacks to the backyard

in a waning day, salty skin, mid-july
by the waters of lethe, he found his annabel Lee
he shivered when retracing the gleaming july
when i was forgotten and he was loving annabel lee

he knew anything would last forever in summer
but forever was wasted and short-lived
and so he walked her out and drove her home
and made me listen to their parting songs

oh, the radio hurts! change the station, please?
(no, said my man) and he kept on driving away from annabel lee
and so the song played through seven red lights
and i collected the shards and dust of his crushed heart

yeah, you're the hot one
there's not a moment when I don't
want you to come

come near and be undone
give me your all
give me your Ibiza

my senorita, what have you done
I have no heart and I'm on the run

I am a rock and you're the sun
shining brighter than anyone

and you say you're a lonely one




oh, you make me feel so guilty
always thinking of you now my mind
feels so filthy

come near and be undone
give me your all
give me your Ibiza

my senorita, what have you done
I have no heart and I'm on the run

I am a rock and you're the sun
shining brighter than anyone

and you say you're a lonely one



walking by and waking everyone
I know, I cannot be the only one..

She dances in circles,
Moving through the beat
In the hazy spanish heat.
Skirts fly, hungry eyes
Following her firm brown thighs
Pumping arms, and thumping feet
in the hazy spanish heat.

She dances with abandon
Lost and found, dizzy and wet
With a stranger she just met.
Hands clasped, waist grasped
Churning dust amidst a fevered lust,
Move the dance to tangled sheets,
In the hazy spanish heat.

Camera, lights, action...
Wake up, get up and don't forget to stay up.
Sway n walk but remember not to drop,
this is what we are going to call fashion.
Bring your hips left to right, stand up tall
and try not to fright. Bright lights up in it,
cause every gentleman loves to stare as the
senorita walks up the stairs in her high stilettos.
Smell of fresh fabric and the grip of leather tights,
take it and wear it because tonight you're the Queen
of the ball baby, coming out through the dark light.
We want fashion, poise and something to call Sensuous.
Do the cat walk
Strike a pose and tip to your toes,
cause tonight is fashion.
Competitive looks and reading books, you know you're in
it for the game to win it.

It's unfortunate that Parisians
Are very hard to bear,
In terms of flash obsequiousity,
They drive me to despair!
And patience is an attribute
I don't profess to have
To mercifully administer
When accents veer to Slav.

Baltics look like jellyfish,
The Germans are obscene
And loud and overbearing
But the Swiss are very clean.
Italians are a swarthy lot
Who gourmandize on food
And sacrifice their suavity
By being impudently crude.
The Spanish are no better,
In fact they are probably worse,
For obsessing in the blood sports
I actually rate them in reverse.

Starchiness is British
They're convoluted to the core,
The Old Boy system's lost it's sheen
Aspirants flock to it no more.
The Yanks are looking slightly crass
Whilst fighting foreign wars,
Their pinky held up squeaky clean
To call "foul" to China's flaws.
China sits inscrutably
Holding all the cards
Waiting for the moment
To strike beneath the guards.

India and Pakistan
Are squabbling like kids
The uproar over Kashmir
Rates them lower than the Yids.
The Yids are walking tightropes
With Iran's nuclear ******,
Whilst currying Yank approval,
Eventual bombing is a must.
The Dutch behave so anally
They're always proven right
When faced with rigid negatives
They blanch with haunches tight.

But not the Argentineans
They love to dance and flirt,
To chase the senorita
Cavorting in the scarlet skirt.
The South Pacific's wallowing
They're adrift from World affairs
Oz's self preoccupation
Mirrors Kiwi's vacant stares.
Africa's way past comment
Lost to heat and dust,
Warfare, **** and pillage
And the rest decayed by rust.

Eskimos are OK
Clean living on the ice
The population static,
Zer-O pollution's nice!

Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
14 April 2009

These are borrowed words
That my tongue didn't have
I love them because they are sweet
They dig across the beauty of my intelligence
Am worn if I fail to say it kindly
Mamacita, wrap your hands around my waist
And make me your golden belt
In walking side by side
The world will approve

I forgive for being too beautiful
But not for robbing my senses
I whistle in Spanish
For am sentenced by your ways

This page contains several double limericks, a rare triple limerick, and a new version of the double dactyl that I invented, called the "dabble dactyl."



The Platypus: a Double Limerick
by Michael R. Burch

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

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



The Better Man: a Double Limerick
by Michael R. Burch

Dear Ed: I don’t understand why
you will publish this other guy—
when I’m brilliant, devoted,
one hell of a poet!
Yet you publish Anonymous. Fie!

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



Hell to Pay: a Double Limerick
by Michael R. Burch

A messiah named Jesus, returning
from heaven, found his home planet burning
& with children unfed,
so he ventured: “Instead
of war, why not consider cheek-turning?”

Indignant right-wingers retorted:
“Sir, your pacifist views are distorted!
Just pull the plug quickly
on someone who’s sickly!
Our pursuit of war can’t be aborted!”



These poems form a double limerick:

No Bull
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a multi-pierced Bull,
who found playing hoops far too dull,
so he dated Madonna
but observed, “I don’t wanna
get married . . . the things she might pull!”

So this fast-thinking forward named Rodman
then said to his best man—“No problem!
When I marry Electra,
if the ring costs extra,
just yank a gold hoop off my ****, man!”



I once provided the second stanza to a famous limerick, turning it into a double limerick …

A wonderful bird is the pelican;
His beak can hold more than his belican.
He can hold in his beak
Enough food for a week,
Though I’m ****** if I know how the helican!

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!
—second stanza by Michael R. Burch


The next two poems form a double limerick with separate titles:

Time Out!
by 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!

Time Back In!
by Michael R. Burch

Hawking, who makes my head spin,
says time may flow backward. I grin,
imagining the surprise
in my mother's eyes
when I head for the womb once again!



This is another double limerick with separate titles:

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

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

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

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



Not all double limericks are light affairs:

Self Reflection: a Double Limerick
by Michael R. Burch

for anyone struggling with self-image

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

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



Triple Limerick: Attention Span Gap
by Michael R. Burch

What if a poet, Shakespeare,
were still living to tweet to us here?
He couldn't write sonnets,
just couplets, doggonit,
and we wouldn't have Hamlet or Lear!

Yes, a sonnet may end in a couplet,
which we moderns can write in a doublet,
in a flash, like a tweet.
Does that make it complete?
Should a poem be reduced to a stublet?

Bring back that Grand Era when men
had attention spans long as their pens,
or rather the quills
of the monsieurs and fils
who gave us the Dress, not its hem!



Officious Notice: I have invented a ***** nonsense form: the "dabble dactyl." A dabble dactyl starts out like a double dactyl, but forgets the rules and changes horses midstream. Anyone who prefers order to chaos should give the dabble dactyl a wide berth and also not sow any wild oats.  Otherwise, “A little dabble’ll do ya.” — Michael R. Burch



Double Dactyls
by Michael R. Burch

Sniggledy-Wriggledy
Jesus Christ’s enterprise
leaves me in awe of
the rich men he loathed!

But why should a Sadducee
settle for trifles?
His disciples now rip off
the Lord they betrothed.



Donald Dabble Dactyl #1
by Michael R. Burch

Higgledy-Piggledy
Ronald McDonald
cursed Donald Trump, his
least favorite clown:

"Why should I try to be
funny as Donald? He
gets all the laughs,
claiming upside is down!"



Donald Dabble Dactyl #2
by Michael R. Burch

Wond’ringly, blund’ringly
Ronald McDonald
asked, “Who the hell
is this strange orange clown?”

“Why should I try to be
funny as Donald? He
gets all the laughs,
claiming upside is down!”



Donald Dabble Dactyl #3
by Michael R. Burch

Piggledy-Wiggledy
45th president,
or erstwhile manse resident,
perched on a throne

of gold-plated porcelain
matching his orange “tan,”
bombing Iran
from his twittery phone?



This famous limerick inspired my Einstein “relative” 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.

I recently learned this poem was originally penned, in a slightly different version, by Arthur Henry Reginald Buller; his limerick appeared in Punch (Dec. 19, 1923). I find it intriguing that one of the best revelations of the weirdness and zaniness of relativity can be found in a limerick. I was inspired to pen multiple rejoinders:

The Cosmological Constant
by Michael R. Burch

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


***-tronomical
by Michael R. Burch

Relativity, the theorists’ creed,
says mass increases with speed.
My (m)*** grows when I sit it.
Mr. Einstein, get with it;
equate its deflation, I plead!


Relative Theory I
by Michael R. Burch

Einstein’s theory, incredibly silly,
says a relative grows, *****-nilly,
at speeds close to light.
Well, his relatives might,
but mine grow their (m)***** more stilly!


Relative Theory II
by Michael R. Burch

Einstein’s peculiar theory
excludes all my relatives, clearly,
since my relatives’ *****
increase their prone masses
while approaching light speed—not nearly!


Relative Theory III
by Michael R. Burch

Relativity, we’re led to believe,
proves masses increase with great speed.
But it seems my huge family
must be an anomaly;
since their (m)***** increase, gone to seed!



The Heimlich Limerick
by Michael R. Burch

for T. M.

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


These are limericks of the singular variety …


Caveat Spender
by Michael R. Burch

It's better not to speculate
"continually" on who is great.
Though relentless awe's
a Célèbre Cause,
please reserve some time for the contemplation
of the perils of EXAGGERATION.


This is another of my scientific limericks …

Parting is such sweet sorrow
by Michael R. Burch

The universe is flying apart.
Hush, Neil deGrasse Tyson’s heart!
Repeat, repeat.
Don’t skip a beat.
Perhaps some new Big Bang will spark?


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!


ANIMAL LIMERICKS
A much-needed screed against licentious insects
by Michael R. Burch

after and apologies to Robert Schechter

Army ants? ARMY ants?
Yet so undisciplined to not wear pants?
How incredibly rude
to wage war in the ****!
We moralists call them SMARMY ants!


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!"


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 Dromedary and the Very Work-Wary Canary
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!"


The Mallard
by Michael R. Burch

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


The Trouble with Elephants: a Word to the Wise
by Michael R. Burch

An elephant never forgets
and thus they don’t make the best pets:
Jumbo may well out-live you,
but he’ll never forgive you,
no matter how sincere your regrets!


The Limerick as Parody
Marvell-Less (I)
by Michael R. Burch

Mr. Marvell was ill-named? Inform us!
Alas, his crude writings deform us:
for when trying to bed
chaste virgins, he led
right off with his iron ***** ginormous!


Marvell-Less (II)
by Michael R. Burch

Andrew Marvell was far less than Marvellous;
indeed, he was cold, bold, unchivalrous:
for when trying to bed
chased/chaste virgins, he led
right off with his iron ***** ginormous!


Here's a limerick about one of the universe's greatest ironies: the lack of rhyme words for "poetry" and "limerick." I almost solved the latter, but fell a bit short:

Shelved Elves
by Michael R. Burch

I wanted to rhyme with “limerick”
and settled on “good old Saint Slimmer Nick”
about a dieting Claus,
but drawing no “ahs!”
I glumly rescinded the trimmer trick.


To show the flexibility of the limerick form, it has often been used for political purposes, and to expose, satirize and savage charlatans. Here are are two such limericks of mine:

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



I have even written limericks about religion, mostly heretical limericks:

Pell-Mell for Hell Mel
by 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!


Why I Left the Religious Right
by Michael R. Burch

He's got Jesus's name on a wallet insert
and "Hell is for Queers" on the back of his shirt
and he upholds the Law,
for grace has a flaw:
the Church must have someone to drag through the dirt.



Ribbing Adam
by Michael R. Burch

“Dear Lord,” fretted Adam, depressed,
“did that **** really rupture my chest?”
“Yes she did,” piped his Maker,
“but of course you can’t take her,
or I’d fry you in hell, for ******!”



There was an old man from Peru
who dreamed he was eating his shoe.
He awoke one dark night
from a terrible fright
to discover his dream had come true!
—Variation on a classic limerick by Michael R. Burch


There once was a poet from Nashville
which hockey fans rechristened Smashville,
but his odd limericks
pulled so many weird tricks
his pale peers now prefer Ogden Gnashville.
—Michael R. Burch


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


Here's one for the poets:

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.


Here's one for the Flintstones:

Early Warning System
by Michael R. Burch

A hairy thick troglodyte, Mary,
squinched dingles excessively airy.
To her family’s deep shame,
their condo became
the first cave to employ a canary!


Donald Trump Limericks aka Slimericks

Viral Donald
by Michael R. Burch

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


Stumped and Stomped by Trump
by Michael R. Burch

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


Humpty Trumpty
by Michael R. Burch

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


White as a Sheet
by Michael R. Burch

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


15 Seconds
by Michael R. Burch

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


Trump’s Golden Rule
by Michael R. Burch

Donald Trump is the victim of leaks!
Golden showers are NOT things he seeks!
Though he dearly loves soaking
the women he’s groping,
get real, 'cause he pees ON the meek!


Cancun Cruz
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a senator, Cruz,
whose whole life was one pus-oozing schmooze.
When Trump called his wife ugly,
Cruz brown-nosed him smugly,
then went on a sweet Cancún cruise!


Anchors Aweigh!
by Michael R. Burch

There once was an anchor babe, Cruz,
whose deployment was Castro’s bold ruse.
Now the revenge of Fidel
has worked out quite well
as Cruz missiles launch from his caboose!


Canadian Cruz
by Michael R. Burch

There was a Canadian, Cruz,
an anchor babe with a bold ruse:
he’d take Texas first
and then do his worst
to infect the whole world with his views.


Eerie Dearie
by Michael R. Burch

A trembling 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.

Fortune named Enron "America's Most Innovative Company" for six consecutive years, but the company went bankrupt and vanished after its accounting practices were determined to be fraudulent.


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

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

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



***** LIMERICKS



A randy young dandy named Sadie
loves ***, but in forms reckoned shady.
(I cannot, of course,
involve her poor horse,
but it’s safe to infer she's no lady!)
—Michael R. Burch


There was a lewd ***** from Nantucket
who intended to *** in a bucket;
but being a man
she missed the **** can
and her rattled johns fled, crying: "**** it!"
—Variation on a classic limerick by Michael R. Burch


Here are three "linked" Nantucket limericks of mine, forming a triple limerick:

There was a coarse ***** of Nantucket
whose bush needed someone to pluck it
’cause it looked like a chimp’s
and her johns were limp gimps
who were too scared to **** it or **** it.

So that coarse, canny ***** of Nantucket,
once ****-shaved, decided to shuck it
—that thick, wiry pelt
that smelled like wet felt—
and made it a toupee for Luckett.

Now Luckett, once bald as an eagle,
like Samson, stands handsome and regal
with hair to his ***
that smells like his lass,
but still comes when she calls, like a beagle.
—a triple limerick by Michael R. Burch


Shotgun Bedding

A pedestrian pediatrician
set out on a dangerous mission;
though his child bride, ******,
was a sweet senorita,
her pa's shotgun cut off his emissions.
—Michael R. Burch



Untitled Limericks

There was a young lady from France
Who’d let cute boys poke in her pants:
They'd give her the finger
Where she'd let them linger
because that's the point of romance!
—Michael R. Burch


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


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


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


A germane young German, a dame
with a quite unpronounceable name,
Frenched me a kiss;
I admonished her, "Miss,
you’ve left me twice tongue-tied, for shame!"
—Michael R. Burch


A germane young German, a dame
with a quite unpronounceable name,
gave me a kiss;
I lectured her, "Miss,
we haven't been intro'd, for shame!"
—Michael R. Burch


A germane young German, a dame
with a quite unpronounceable name,
French-kissed me and left my lips lame.
I lectured her, "Miss,
That's a premature kiss!
We haven't been intro'd, for shame!"
Michael R. Burch


Four Limericks  plus one Lead-In Poem

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!



Mating Calls
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.
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!



Teeter Tots
by Michael R. Burch

For your spuds to become Tater Tots,
First, artfully cut out the knots,
Then dice them into tiny cubes,
Deep fry them, and serve them to rubes
(but not if they’re acting like snots).



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.



Trump Limericks aka Slimericks



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



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



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

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



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

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

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



Scratch-n-Sniff
by Michael R. Burch

The world’s first antinatalist limerick?

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



Time Out!
by Michael R. Burch

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



Waiting Game
by Michael R. Burch

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



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

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



Devil’s Wheel
by Michael R. Burch

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



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

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



MVP!
by Michael R. Burch

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

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

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

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

I'm in love with Juanita

From El Paso country song ...

Kiss me stronger, senorita,

Make my memories be gone.


To forget the northern beauty,

Who's cold heart is made of stone,

Kiss me stronger, Spanish cutie,

Give me love I missed so long.


Brown eyes so warm and tender,

Margaritaville from blender

Makes it easy to surrender,

Borrowing love from lovely lender.


Do not check my credit rating,

- I am all anticipating ...

Give me love that I am awaiting,

Make my loneliness abating!


Rambling rose from Spanish garden,

Do not let my heart to harden.

Harden only what can please,

- I am down on my knees.


I'm in love with Juanita

From El Paso country song ...

Kiss me stronger, senorita,

Make my memories be gone.

i appear with boots and a saucy smile on
in the doorway while she's cooking the women
gossip over the sizzling pan of hot butter
under her heaving chest on the stove

i'm wearing a magic cape mimicking a windmill
with my bright pink ***** standing *****
big as a barn in the morning sun
lusting after dominance
fat and wrapped like a chorizo sausage

she sends a half-wave into my
direction of space and says--on the counter
i'm ******* an older latina lady with a chiquita banana
deep in my mother's kitchen with
the sticker on the tip of my **** for reference
as the sun dances and rises just
before pancake breakfast

her dank breath smells like
pollo broth and fiesta cigarettes
but her **** is wild soft and new
like a banana being peeled and sliced lengthwise
warm ***** hanging on either side
fat enough to be chewed on

psychedelic salsa blares
on the radio all morning
and i'm holding her skirt up to
reveal beautiful hips and thigh muscles so
i can **** her harder and faster
at her request

hands fly and the big bowl of
seeds spray downward in gravitational collapse
she's singing mexican gypsy secrets
with a cigarette lit and just hanging lopsided
off her lipsticked marshmallow lips

she's holding a yellow crayon in one hand
like she'll be scribbling notes shorthand
and dribbling cane syrup over my naked body
with the other as the floor begins shaking and
the walls shed plaster the cupboard doors creak
on their hinges and mom walks in the room looking at me
like i'm the crazy one

but the cataclysmic miracle is done
senorita is kneeling and wiping my ****
with an authentic mexican flag handkerchief
her sweat and my *** cooling on her thighs
working holes in her new blue kneesocks
and i'm re-zipping her dress over the
glistening expanse of her brown back

she stands trying to fix her freshly ****** hair and
we both light a cigarette try to forget the whole thing happened laughing at our secret as her cherry toes finally uncurl like an ember drifting in campfire smoke she just juts a hip out licks her lips again and smiles

"bueno."

Why the blue
face many reasons over
that chip?
It hurts how long do I have?
No other color to think about
All of the chewing excursions
Blue chip muncher seasons

The summer high-priced
The liaison scoop hot
Her lips dipsy
The different vibe
crispy
That one chip trend all depends
What star shape chip demand
Bow Wow parade
Dressed like
the blue tinted car
chip
  Did you feel the vibe?
Not just any tribe
let's all describe

Blue chip paired
subscription just chew on

Each lip part of
you I liked
Don't block my
chips confidentially

The party consequently
Went chip disappearing
That salsa tortilla chips
What a coincidence
Someone kissed and chewed
her and went pew ugh
Hallelujah honeydew
BMW Chips sigh
So salty talk beamer
Blue chips ahoy to me
Blue sky Sailors high
Drinking blueberry
coffee why?

Sticker Blue Church
group
Don't break the chip
promise
Don't cheat
My lips need and want
someone to kiss
The advertisement
B-Blue C-Clue
K-Kisses **** fishes
Not the Black/Blue
The kickboxing
Chips made the
centerfold
with his boxers
Blue chip tailgating
Debating those keypunches

Venting out with her chip
What was in those chips?
They were
both running
for their lives
Where are our wifes

Terra Cotta, she
dressed Ms. Senorita

Doing Hawaii
hula hoops
kiss motives crunchy
The competition
dipped Men grumpy
The Sienna smile eating
The garden of
  (Eat-In)  

The Gulf of Mexico
Doing the Salsa*
Ms. Eden
One chip was lip
depended
The French kiss
Sleeping beauty
ballerina
No-one really
didn't know
what to do
The back-back
neck kiss

The Robin bird
Changed Blue-breasted
Lower Lip arrested
He's the
sucker for
her  Blue chips_*
Why did the
corn yellow he became
  The blue ***** Jazzy
She's eating chips in
the sunray just chill
They were rubbing
their nose taking in
**** color lips
Simply kissed
balanced

So Co-depended
Or so lip offended
By one best collection
chip
French kiss
the plea is the
kiss of the sea
She is his kiss
Or press the
kiss with his
Blue chip to be his
he is the key

Bed and bite chip
  all new
breakfast tip
Read someones
lip demeanor
regardless so
it's minor
Only the blue-chip
was happening to you
To the very end of
your lip

So cleaned up vacuum kiss
Skinny diet dipping not
over my lip
So chipper I will
meet my Skipper

(Apple Dip) New Yorker
He's the blue-chip tipper
computer chips

Blue chip kisses
It was the biggest
turnover, come over
The Apple jubilee
blue chip kisses
To be called the
lip-sucker Please ladies
calm down
Take one chip

((The Addiction))
Of her garden
of earth, blue-chip birth

The admiral of the U.S. fleet
was staring towards the shore.
A mob of people jammed the wharf.
He thought we were at war.
The good Mayor Paulo, of Monterrey
was waving with the rest.
He saw our large Pacific fleet
And, doubtless, was impressed.
The commodore made cannons roar
The impact shook the ground
By miracle no townsfolk died
And not one sailor drowned.
“Perhaps they are saluting us!”
The puzzled mayor said.
But when we put marines ashore
Such thoughts soon left his head.
That day we captured Monterrey
It was quite the feat of arms
We lost just one or two marines
to some Senorita’s charms.
The State Department soon put an end
To the splendid little war
And erstwhile foes departed friends
from the Mexicali shore.

i.

summer, with her golden
light and bluebell valleys
sweeps the senorita skies
and shady groves.

ii.

the sea rushes to the sand,
relentless waves surrender
crashing on the rocks
where the raucous gulls glide.

iii.

the moon-sky of summer’s
warm nights brings sweet dreams
and lavender fields, stars
of slumber, ropes of
gold thread like
embroidered silk.


iv.

the white clouds
woven from the rain
hide the sun which
waits for the blue inks
of a summer sky.

v.

small, the bird
painted
on the sky.

vi.


i am jealous of your legs,
crazy in love with your love,
swept up in your arms
while i wait for you to
claim me as your own.

love me i cry out,
i am yours, i am yours,
forever.

You're the best in the whole universe, figure, hot, juicy, hot, **** babe, exciting men attractive Panther. You **** temptation in flesh, do you lust of men as sweet persik- seksik- muffin) Buuuuuuuuuuuum) Boom Chica Boom) brain explosion by your beauty. Now, with a sharp rap beat: boom-boom) you most cherished desire of man, boom-boom) you now male happiness, boom-boom) You're a **** magnet hit by your soul in heaven soars, boom-boom) and heart hot flame is lit, a boom-boom) and knocks faster and faster, and your soul gets from it a little bit lighter. And I want to tell you frankly that I wish love and happiness, always good mood and a large increase of the social, human and sea delights, because in front of you does not simply resist. I think it looks so real standard of beauty, where not everyone can reach that height, class) This way you need to be on hand, so easily and gently, as if on clouds. The wonderful princess, little delicate fairy, cute angel light) heaven. It is safe to say that life is good, if there's such a girl like you. Because there is nothing more beautiful than you.
After all, you have such beautiful eyes, such a gentle, warm, alluring sensual look (hypnotized) .Pravdu ...... saying you just wow) I wish you happiness, health, love and success.
There is nothing more beautiful than you, and your hair. They could blossom flowers, such as beautiful as you. Look your gentle eyes, infinitely deep and beautiful, wondrous charm of the East. The skin like white gold. Your wonderful voice, I would like to hear this marvelous east melody that is replete with unique sound, all the time. You're like a rare flower with a delicate hint of fragility. You are like a beautiful goddess with a distant, unknown worlds. You're like a star with the distant Universe, and my love is so great and so deep as the universe itself. And every star it is a bright idea about you. You are in my heart forever, for all time, your love I need you like the air, because my heart is only a dream about you. After all, you are the most beautiful of the ever created creation god. I do not have enough and a thousand words, and the words of a thousand poets to describe your infinitely wonderful beauty. Your divine beauty crown of nature and art.
You are so beautiful, I'll give you the key that will open any door in my soul, be compassionate, bold, with a deep understanding of looking at all that you see there, because on the one hand funny and frightening on the other. You're a beautiful shine. Oh how wonderful this gentle shimmering sheen. What radiance and beauty in you. How beautiful shimmer paint feelings in your heart. How beautifully you decorate this world is. Yes, you're beautiful inside and out. In your eyes I see a world in which one wants to live next to you. Seeing these amazing eye striking with its beauty, you are the most beautiful flower in the world, so rare, so beautiful. You are the most beautiful pearl of the ocean, the brightest star in the entire universe. Be yours to be close to you, is happiness, because you are the light of happiness on earth, it is a paradise on earth. In my opinion, you are absolute perfection. And my love for you is so great and many-sided. You are infinitely beautiful. Your lips and skin is sweeter than any candy, your eyes are more beautiful than any jewels. The skin as gently as pure as petals of flowers, I think you're the perfect idol beauty. Believe me, you're just in this universe you were perfect.
You're sweet temptation unique moment beckons again and again your beauty and tenderness. Pure, tender and touching as the beautiful swan, majestic, sensual, beautiful lioness. You just neobizhaysya me but you're so fine that even Slyunkov flow.
You're perfect, you're out of the competition, perfectly unique beautiful creation, you are glamorous shine) shine) shine) You're a wild imagination and awareness resonance burst from your unique infinitely beautiful shine. Delicate beauty that beckons to his pure love, you want to want to see again and again. You're a princess, you are the queen, you're the Empress, you're a goddess, you're the boss) You're the boss) You're the boss, the boss, the boss) You are the most beautiful thing in this world.
You are the best gift of heaven. Charming Lady men's hearts.
Enchanting, so exotic, so cute. You are a pure form of perfection. **** senorita, mademoiselle charming, graceful model, radiating the energy of love, the force of attraction to you is incredibly high, and to your charms impossible to resist, because you're very charm, the very charm, beauty itself, perfect.
Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich

Take me home sweet senorita
Ride me on your wings
Flap your arms
Cause hurricanes
And watch them like Van Gogh would
With stars in our ears
Then send me down little ******
Along the Yangtze River banks
To flood my paddies and scythe my stalks
And feed the family waiting

Take me home weeping widow
Let me ride in the hole in your heart
Where the walls are decorated in photographs you were never in
Drop me in the heart of industry
Let me build to make my way
To build the home to which I walk
To build the table on which I will feed my family the spoils of a day in field

Take me home
Mother
Slide me between your arms
Show me where to go
Bring to me my family
Fed upon my table
In my house
With the harvest of my hands
Be the mother of my family
Make where you are, my home

Who art thou actually to me?
That is certainly a difficult question;
to which I might have been able not
to giveth a precise answer.
Thou who were yesterday a friend;
and who conversed even so casually
with me back then;
now hath so dearly caught me
and captivated me
that I am not sure of who thou art;
and what room doth thou possess
within th' very kingdom of my heart.
Ah, and tonight, at this very rigorous,
and laborious night
Thou lured and tempted me into thy charms;
and embraced me within thy friendly realms.
Oh, querida, how I want thee too much-
simply too much!
Mi carino, mi amor;
and in fairy tales, as they are supposed to be
Thou would be my senor
And my maiden self thy senorita.
Mi amor de la príncipe!
If only thou knoweth-of how much I desire thee!
But I was sure not-it was but seemingly
unforgivable uncertainty;
whilst thou sat there and laughed beside me;
and I gazed into those patient eyes of thine.
I love thee tenderly, as thou doth emerge
within my silent dreams;
I love thee dearly, as thou didst, tonight,
craved and shaped the wit
and wise sweetness of my heart.
Thou art no-one else but my fiery dreams;
ah, thou art the one I love-
the only one I love indeed!
Thou, with the music of thy soul so sweet,
which captured my emotions so swiftly;
and entangled my passion so sweetly.
Ah, tonight-just tonight,
how thou endorsed my feelings,
and cured my daring longings!
As though in a wakeful dream,
no matter absurd it may seem;
this I declare with unbearable-
yet steady sureness:
I would love thee, surely and tranquilly,
and I hope just that thou would love me
Just like thou art already inside me;
and just how fate hath so fiercely placed
this very dear heart of mine, within thee.

Waves from the beach match my waves for my drink
The waitress comes over and asks what’s my order
I said I can’t choose “I’m feeling like there’s clouds above me,
It’s been a rough few days and these double hotel rooms are bland and lonely.”
“Not a problem, sir.  I know just what to get to make you feel *****.
She comes back with a Hawaiian margarita.
It came with an umbrella which I set aside while saying thank you, Senorita.
I guzzled down the drink to reach the tequila faster,
But the wind picks up and it looks like a disaster.
I ask for one more, with the umbrella.
This fairy godmother returns with another margarita.
The buzz has transformed me like I’m Cinderella.
I leave a 20 at the table and walk towards the beach, ignoring the families with kids who all they do is screech.
Clutching both umbrellas, I walk to the shore
One of God’s many gifts for us to explore.
I never noticed how nice he made the decore.
Tequila is the only alcohol that’s an upper, or so I’ve been told.
But I enter the water even though it was cold
What happened next though was a story previously told,
My umbrellas caught air like Mary Poppins,
As I floated along the coast listening to Phil Collins.
The speakers down below blast the drum section from that one song,
And I stayed up there for I don’t know how long,
But when I descended,
My pain was suspended and my emotions were splendid.
So next time, when your mind feels cloudy and your thoughts are rowdy
Ask for a drink with an umbrella
You’ll soon find yourself smiling, cheesing more than mozzarella.

On a JetBlue flight
from NYC
to Miami

Drowning in
my many woes
with inflight

***** and Salsa
music. Just
keep it coming

Senorita. I was
turning it up
before I touched

ground. I was
completely
wasted and had

crashed on the
entire flight. I
guess you ain't

suppose to drink
when you taking
meds and stressed

the hell out, while
traveling to one
of the hottest

places in the
world to party.
I awoke with a

throng in my head
and a wired
flight attendant

poking the hell
out my shoulder.
*****. But somehow

in my confusion
I had lost my
Fedora hat.

I blew in from the camino
like a wild tumbleweed,
the smell of iquana
hung around me
like a dark cloud
as I slumped onto
the barstool &
ordered a tequila
with the worm.

The mariachi was as loud
as thirty babies screaming,
I knew it wasn't me dreaming.
In the darkness & haze,
I used my dynamite-eyes
to scan the spinning room
& I caught Lupita looking.

We ended up
on the wilder side of town
that night,
I fought three banditos
and a chupacabra,
beat the snot out of all
of them.

If it wasn't for
this Betty Boop tattoo
on my ***,
that classy senorita
would have married me,
lucky me.

now a gal on the run
needs a little scratch
to live on
so
she quick pecked out a book
with a perky little ditty.

one that could be sung
one that would run
over and over
in your head.

sales took off
quite briskly
soon her tune could
be heard along every
school corridor.

kids of all ages
chanted and screamed
walking or riding
her very own call....

Hey!
You!
Yeaaahhh
you!
i say
you big fat bus
with the big fat yellow bootay
you’re in my way

i say
go on now
get outta my way.

get outta my way.
you big fat bus
with your  big fat yellow  bootay
get outta my way
big bootay
outta my way!
yellow bootay!
hey
hey
hey


now this refrain
quickly got old
for all the drivers
of the big fat busses
with the big fat yellow bootays.

it wasn’t long before
they were on the warpath
pitch forks and shovels
tire irons and more.

these enraged drivers
were out for blood
and broken bone,
which in her case
certainly meant
dripping oil,
broken glass and
twisted metal.

Some days she cried
why, oh, why,
did i ever
write that?

Other days
she didn’t give a hoot
not a single second
stinkin' thought.

but she still skirted
the cities and towns
right before
and right after
school was in session.


the money flowed in
and rather than gin,
she stopped for a sip
of high test
premium
fuel.

no margaritas
for this little senorita
with the Big Fat Yellow Bootay.

some afternoons late,
she would  just set
a spell and wait,
sip that ole
high test,
watching the sun slide
below the horizon,
colors galore,
a magnificent painting,
different each
and
every
night.

still on the run
but having loads of fun,
she kept a keen eye out
for the man with the badge
and the gun.

reports abounded
about a bus that had
disappeared
one that had
absconded.

now no one thought
it could possibly
be,
only she,
all on her own.
so the lookout
was for some thief
to be caught.
a thief of the kind
with two hands
two wrists
and ten fingers.

hiding out
during the day
she would slip away
come the passin' of
the sun
most times.

rolling along
one
afternoon
between fields so wide,
she pulled in
by a shrub
and found a motorcycle
waiting.

"my pig’s gone
to take a leak.”
said the little motorcycle,
nodding to the trees
not far away.

(aside: the little motorcyle
referred to his pig in only the most
affectionate way.  
which brings one to
wonder, from where did it arise
why is another word
synomous with cop,
pig?

pigs are so cute,
darling and sweet
and very intelligent.  
makes no sense to me
when you are a looking
to be insulting,
to be calling a cop
a pig.)

she glanced on over
at the copse of trees
and set herself
in reverse gear.
"i owe you one
new little friend”
said she,
and as she rolled back onto
the road,
she gently did pat him
on his tight firm little  
motorcycle
bootay!


"It’s a good day to die!”
she cried
as she sped off,
"not to mention
drive!"

and it was,
one fine day to drive!

If, I were Indian
I would be A. P. J.
AbdulKalam
descendant son
          And, to  be
          Gandhi's legatee

To marry a young
Nigerian senorita, to
give birth a pretty
And beautiful baby

To copy all I imitated
From my fore fathers
To lead Nigeria and, to
revolutionize the nation

To grow more than
Russia and to be
Like Saudi Arabia

I went on a bike ride today, or at least I tried
I got a flat,
can you believe that.
Now I have to walk on back.
Which is west, which is best.
It was going to be downhill,
just like a roller coaster.
A picture that should be on a poster,
that says "Life is a Thrill!"

Not sure how many miles out I am, but the wind is picking up.
this bike ride turned out to be a sham.
Don't think I got any luck.
Maybe I'm just a shmuck
better hurry up,
cause I need to make up those miles I missed,
the girls I did not kiss, but wish I did.

No regrets is the mantra,
but is it followed,
or made hallowed?
Life can be an evil senorita.

Does this all make sense,
not sure if I know how to repent.
I never gave anything up for lent.
Instead of getting angry I get bent.
Just trying to make enough money to play rent.

**** that wind, it really picked up.
Guess I'll put on a hoodie,
cause I wouldn't want anyone to worry,
about me getting chilly.
Stop me if I begin to sound silly.

What a fail,
can't even ride a bike on a trail.
Still a fail
glad haven't been to jail.
not a fail.
No one has ever had to post bail.
Except I have definitely have bailed a couple of times,
maybe the reason I am trying to write intriguing rhymes.
Any chance you could forgive me of all my crimes.

I'll have on last smoke,
while I laugh at my life, which is a joke.
One thing is constant, giving you strife.
One day we can sit down and ****.
Then I'll cut some vegetables with a knife,
and cook it with some egg yolks.

“Dream song”


Sing me a dream, dream me a song
Don't make it too short, don't make it too long
Don't make it too happy, don't make it too sad
Right in the middle, is where I'll be had


Stories of mountains, tales of the west
Antidotes retold, by strangers, the best
A kiss in the moonlight, I'll never forget
These are the songs, that long to hear yet

Journeys on train tracks, that rumble through time
Back and forth life scripts, that turn on a dime
A vision of happiness, lost but content
Tearful eyed memories, of love letters sent

The dark senorita who called out your name
The shot of tequila's romantic refrain
Then next, the siesta that memory denies
A lost, lonely cowboy with stars in his eyes

The hot summer day, mescal, por favor
Bar room bravado, courage assured
A harsh word, a look, machismo commands
The next move, the next slight, a line in the sand

Battles with savages, outside the door
A march in formation to find the next war
The promised reward that can never come true
History's legacy, painfully true

Battlefield monuments lost in the woods
Where lines were once drawn and heroes once stood
Where blood was once spilled and questions remain
Hidden in shadows of yesterday's shame

A quivering peace that can never stand still
A new generation to march up that hill
With hope for salvation, foundationally true
A new culmination who's interest's accrued

Then one more recovery long overdue
The colors of sacrifice, red, white and blue
The stories of history, tinted and hued
The song that our grandfather sang me and you

A search for a gold mine, the dutchman's remains
The promise of new life, fortune and fame
The optimist's song, the pessimist's tune
Off where the rattlesnakes sleep before noon

One more Matilda, a shovel and pick
A search through the canyon where fools gold's the trick
Where water's the treasure and darkness the cure
And the road back leads empty, to adventure once
More

Explosions of springtime, a park bench called home
The birds and the squirrels and the church bells of
Gold
The mothers and children and promise of youth
A new day brings new ways, a new search for truth

School buses roll, people commute
Businessmen tow the line 'til rebuke
The homeless and destitute scrounge for their fare
Passersby glance on, unwilling to share

Yes,
Here's one more season come 'round the bend
Some start anew, some find their end
Some take their orders from voices on high
Some walk this earthly path, never to fly

Some take the train their father's once rode
Some walk the city streets, lost and alone
Some gain the riches of power and gold
Some keep their hearts, some lose their soul

So here lie the stories, the songs and the dreams
Of one among many, of all, so it seems
Unique and unusual, we all ring the bell
Then set off in search of our heaven or hell

These are the songs that I'll hear once again
These are the dreams that I'll send you, my friend
So sing me a dream, dream me a song
Through ages, these pages are where I belong


So sing me a dream, dream me a song
Don't make it too short, don't make it too long
Don't make it too happy, don't make it too sad
Right in the middle is where I'll be had
Somewhere in the middle is where I'll be glad

Packing the car to find religion
                 the idea to leave town by mutual decision.
                 Load the fam and my senorita
                check maps and head for Talimena
                On the interstate rockin and groovin
                 music helps keep the miles movin
                 Headlights on as night is  near
                Shadows get thicker watch out for deer
                Two green specs at the roadside, now six
                a brown flash jumps by on sticks.
               Always the does first , not the buck.
               Hitting wildlife makes a weekend ****.
               Get to the motel very late
                tomorrow's day with nature must wait.
               A new day now we find Route One.
                Talimena Drive a road built for fun.
            The fall colors are vivid, the air is cool
             It is timeless..today I'm  nobody's tool.
           Red,gold,crimson,yellow,orange,green
            a world painted with so many colors seen.
            A day blessed to spend in God's wonder.
           to see Talimena before  winter slumber

                                             by  Daniel Bottoms

It's been twenty minutes.
And I'm still staring at the last words you sent me
Floating in that little green bubble.

My thumb is broken again

It's been hovering over the "H" but I can't seem to get it to go.
You've done this before! Come on, man. Just say it

"Hey there :)"   No.
"Hallooo" NO.
"Hola senorita...." What? No
"Hi, so I haven't been able to stop thinking about you and I love your smile and miss seeing it and since you've been gone all I can do to fall asleep is keep a glass next to my bed, and a bottle and
I know you hate when I drink, I know but it's the only thing that makes my mind float the way you used to before I closed my eyes and it's the only thing that stops me from waking up hoping to hear you breathing and even the pounding in my temples the next morning reminds me of you shaking me straight and saying I told you so and so I cherish it. Okay?  Anyway...ummm...yeah I hope you're doing okay. Are you?...."

No.

I wonder what she's doing. I don't think I'll ever know. My thumb is broken again.

I'm lost in your thoughts and dreams
Let me remain lost
Please don't wake me up
'Coz i know i won't be able to bear reality
It's a beautiful place out here in my world of thoughts
An enchanted forest..
..a flowing river
..an abundance of flora and fauna
..and you it's empress
..Looking after everything
And resolving all disputes
At night when it gets a little chilly
And my soul seeks refuge
You emit this strong sense of warmth from your body
Creating waves of pleasure in my soul
When it rains you join the peacocks in their dance of joy and sensousness
Your every move a sight to behold
Your twists and turns simply blow my mind
In the summers you go for midnight swims in the river
The cold river caressing every inch of you(this makes me burn with envy!)
The moonlight shining upon your naked skin
Oh!...it so makes me want to sin
But i know i can't have you
I can only dream you
For you are like that forbidden fruit
Like that dream too good to be true
Like that secret best kept hidden
So please don't wake me up
Let me remain lost in my world of sweet slumber
For the night is all i have
Soon the sun will come out
And reality will bite me again
Till we meet again at night
Adios Senorita......