LMAO

Humor can be refreshing.

You have two weeks.

You are allowed two entries.

New poems only. Any length. Any kind of funny. Silly, sarcastic, slapstick...you pick.

I hope to see lots of posts, and lots of readers.

Have fun with it!

Nothing is sillier and more funny than an island inhabited by strange, furry creatures that like to steal rum from pirates and get drunk on whiskey while partying like its' 2012. Which, it is!

- The Isle of Snugglindon -

On the Isle of Snugglindon, upon the forest floor,
The silly little wugglebugs, are scurrying around.
“Oh, if I only had a brain!” they’ll say once more,
When the silly little bugs, deem to make a sound.
But no one ever hears those wugglebugs at play…
And most ignore the dens they’ll build in summer.
For high above, the mak-mak birds fly, every day,
Saying: “We must mak-mak our nests!” so sure…
And when you hear these birds calling, so loudly,
You might forget those furry rarglesnarfs so close.
As they lumber through the woods, ever proudly,
Hunting for honey in the buzzy trees by the coasts.

“Oh, I am so fierce and furry!” they’ll say to all…
So the bees drop their honeycombs, and fly so far!
The rarglesnarf is delighted to see the prize to fall,
Whilst mother moon laughs, oft tickling every star.
And there: telling woodchuck jokes in the shade…
Of the bigawig tree, sits a wise ancient hermit crab.
He knows the names of every animal as God made,
And he recites them before bed, him slightly mad!
Often pirates like to come to search for a treasure,
But when they say “Arrrgh!” they’ll have to run…
Lest those rarglesnarfs catch them with a pleasure,
To tickle them into revealing: their barrels of rum.

Now the wookisnooks bring whisky and often yell:
“Uz me, uz you!” and sing old wookisnook songs.
The critters drink until they dream after night fell,
Until the ring ringing: of the early morning gongs.
Within the trees, where the gong-ringers still live,
Fur-balls with arms and legs both strong and long.
It is they: who make the whisky that they do give,
To the wookisnooks: in return for a game of pong.
And once every seven moons, to the cry of loons,
The creatures of Snugglindon Isle hold their party.
With stumbles and swoons, and hungry raccoons,
They drink ‘till they drop and eat feasts so hearty!

Where, oh where a navigator might ask himself…
Oh where or wherever is uncharted Snugglindon?
I’ve heard that there lives many an enchanted elf,
On that island, where strange critters dwell upon!
You’ll not find it on maps: nor by taking catnaps,
And certainly it can’t be found by swimming off.
You could swim for laps until all strength it saps,
Or, you could simply ask the average gargleboff!
But since they only live on the isle that you seek,
There is only one way to be certain you’ll arrive.
Why not ask: any child, on any day of the week?
They’ll happily tell you where the critters thrive!

It was on a xmas eve
the mood was festive
So much to eat,smoke and drink
I became tipsy
And I had to make the church service
Else mom will come down hard on me
So I rushed into the room
Picked up my bible and zoomed
Unfortunately I was late
The pastor was infuriated by my lateness so I was hushed
Right in the middle of the sermon
I was asked to open my Bible
To Luke where something was said about lateness
As I flipped the pages I was amazed to find out I was carrying a dictionary instead of a bible
The pastor got mad and frustrated
The church was hot and stuffy
So he reached for  his hanky
To wipe out the sweat on his face
Low and behold
He was holding a female panties...

Disco fever 1991

"Whats a guy gotta do to get some?
Hell, even autistic Andy is in the corner
Laying into some chick for all he's worth"


Then, from the other side of the hall
I caught her eye  
She really should get that fixed
Its clearly far too small


What's her name I asked my mate
That's lottery Lucy he replied
And it looks like you won

It transpired that when Lucy wants a boy  
She taps herself on the head
And sends her false eye into a group
Whoever gets it, Gets it,get it?

Well I wasn't going to be fussy
That's the hard work over
Now I've got me a hussy

I said "how's about ya Lucy "
And she smiled and grabbed me tight
said "congratulations fellah
Your getting some tonight"

That's grand I said I must admit
I was hoping I'd be getting it
Shall we go ,this dance is shit



So we went back to lucys place
Twas in the light I saw her face


I closed my eyes and thought of Ireland
god knows I gave her my best
To be honest she was rather juicy
So here's to you lottery Lucy  







 

Rancid Wine (Vinegar):
[font=Tahoma]   What a delicious taste!
I mean, nothing compares!
I mean It's simply a joy
Drinking such a thing!
I've long been free
From societal boundaries
You and your Rhum,
And your Whiskey,
And your Appletinis!
Well not for me!
Not I! Not Johnny!
For Rancid wine is the only drink!
The only one for me,
The only one ever made!
And my mind is lost
Forever in my drink!
This vinegary taste
Is all I need
To power me
For the rough day ahead!
It's my fuel, my gas,
My submarine!
It's like crack but healthier,
Like beer but tastier,
and like regular wine, but...
More delicious. ;D

Both Sides of the Pond

“Tonight our encore presentation on BBC,
Clean, Young, Englishmen.”
Well, damn this satellite TV!
Guess it’s time for another beer, then…

And damn all those clean, young, Englishmen
hurrying home for a spot of tea.
Smugly grabbing the last biscuit from the tin
while watching the East Enders on the telly.

Later, maybe hooking up with some bird,
who’ll turn out to be a frigid cow.
She’ll call him something absurd;
saying he’s all mouth and no trou…

Ending the night with his mates
at their favorite pub in town.
Downing a few draughts before it gets late;
hurrying home to Mums disapproving frown.

meanwhile, here on my side of the pond….

Bubba calls around midnight
from the rain-out-hang-out.
Him and Betty-Lou have had a fight,
she’s left him - like that was ever in doubt!

I asked him, “Bubba can you drive your truck?”
He assured me, “Hell yeah!” he could,
but seeing how it’s rolled in a ditch and stuck,
he fired back, “How’s that gonna do me any good?”

It was about then Thelma came out of our bathroom
with just her sexy John Deere T-shirt on.
I felt like howling at the moon,
but all I could manage was a sickly groan.

She batted her press-on false eyelashes a bit
And I smelled her ode-du-Walmart clear cross that floor
as she said, “Why don’t you tell Miss Thelma all about it,
“Cause stud, that’s not the reaction I was hoping for.”

“But, before you start, this better not” she glared,
“have nothing to do with that no count Bubba!
Cause if it does!” she froze me with her icy stare,
“Me and my bowling trophies is headed home to Mama’s!”

I just hung my head, I mean what else could I do.
Me and Bubba, we’d been BFF’s since we was ten.
You don’t shoot a horse for throwing a shoe
and you don’t just up and bale on a best friend.

So rather than pleading with Thelma, I took to ducking  
and dove out the front door of our single wide.
And to this day I can still hear, above all her cussing,
the zipping up of her bowling bag from clear outside.

Well, me and Bubba, we drank to our bond all night,
I even convinced him to give Betty-Lou another crack
Meanwhile all this beer drinking had me horny and tight
so I headed for the bowling alley to beg Thelma to take me back.

A Bar Room Comedy  (SP Summerscales)

Standing at the helm
of the Golden Lion's
dying realm
there's Brian the landlord
who looks on in dischord
he knows he's above this
with his girlfriend in his clutches
bar flying
is baloo with a scarf ,
crying and blue
he's always lying
about something new .

Lets not forget the colonel
at his reserved space ,
acting so formal
with a high blood pressure face .
looking like garfield the cat
with a  moustache and blinking  
donned with a tartan hat
on a marathon for drinking ..

He's always talking
of times gone by  
in the background squawking
the football is up high  
you can hear grown men bawling
over a game , as they cry
and a man by the name
of what we called Sly
he goes insane if you nudge him
passing by .

You can also hear Egor
with jokes we all abhore
that he keeps telling
with the scams he's selling
never sharing the pie
only he is smelling
life passes him by
in his double glazed
dwelling
his name erased ,
elbows ungrazed
and accounts swelling
unlike the social woods that he's shaved
and now felling .
He tells his joke
then takes a bow
revealing the back of his head
that looks like a brow  .

Then there's , Thomas the pervert
the half wit
in conflict
who sits in comfort ,
the effalump
who gets drunk  
he's always smoking
and wearing dense glasses
that cover greedy eyes
you'd love to give a good poking .
With plenty to spend
and no brain to comprehend
he has the audacity
to walk in society
unable to mend
what wasn't took lightly
as do-gooder's defend
this blob of unsightly .

There's Rolf the writer
the bearded high and mightier
the smug novel worded
paper back pioneer .

And Tony who does press-ups
pissed up and between hic-cups
he's fat
not muscley
a twat
and messed up mentally .

There's vampire Spock
who stands below the bin time clock
his money unearned
and eyes adhock
collar upturned
and coffin unlocked .

There's Jake the pub dog
and owner Mildred
who looks like a pond frog
thats been jilted .

Well these were the characters
of a local bar
I know you'll connect to this
from wherever you are .  

The Ballad of disGrace

Blind dates are boon
To gals like Me
No face to show
No figure to flaunt
But Ted was not
A fragrant catch
A tub of beer
Who farted all night
Now Will was handsome
As can be,
I wonder why he wanted me
He was amorous as can be
with a pencil
like thing, he used to pee
Moving on this homely
gal, dated a boy named Dee
He talked all night
Of his boyfriend named Mitch
Giving up, I cannot be
So I dated a trucker named Key
With such a name I thought
I would have a little glee
He rubbed and kissed
All night long
Nothing there but an empty sock
Some goon tried to sell
His might
But his five inch tool
Never did fool
There was nary a feel
nor a tinkle
Now I am not an itchy bitch
Who only wants to be scratched a bit
If naught is said and naught is done
Where can one diffuse the heat?
Cursed is me, I will merely dream,
All my life, of a hearty lusty man
Who would love me,
For what I am,
Without putting a brown bag
Over my warty homely Mug.

Grace said:The Ballad of disGrace

Blind dates are boon
To gals like Me
No face to show
No figure to flaunt
But Ted was not
A fragrant catch
A tub of beer
Who farted all night
Now Will was handsome
As can be,
I wonder why he wanted me
He was amorous as can be
with a pencil
like thing, he used to pee
Moving on this homely
gal, dated a boy named Dee
He talked all night
Of his boyfriend named Mitch
Giving up, I cannot be
So I dated a trucker named Key
With such a name I thought
I would have a little glee
He rubbed and kissed
All night long
Nothing there but an empty sock
Some goon tried to sell
His might
But his five inch tool
Never did fool
There was nary a feel
nor a tinkle
Now I am not an itchy bitch
Who only wants to be scratched a bit
If naught is said and naught is done
Where can one diffuse the heat?
Cursed is me, I will merely dream,
All my life, of a hearty lusty man
Who would love me,
For what I am,
Without putting a brown bag
Over my warty homely Mug.



 omg    

Poetic autopsy of a krazy frog (lmao)




The frog is dead God save the frog

will you gun me down like MLK,call me gay
oh the pain! someone make it go away
well hey! you suck at words, maybe try ballet
a tutu would suit you,with pink pumps for half jumps
and light tights for play nights

still

it's all uphill for a brain dead frog
so i'll sympathize and empathize,feel your pain
and hear your cries,try not despise or criticize
cos you're a special frog in my eyes

surprised?

well that's just how i roll
can't wait to see you get some flow
then one day some simile might open doors for metaphor
and before you even know it
you can call yourself a poet

just don't take this shit to heart
look at some books would be a good start


oh and sorry for the rejection
i know you crave for my affection
but you just don't give me an erection

correction!
you kind of make me get a semi
but you don't have a patch on Hemi
he's got brains,you don't have any
maybe when your balls drop or the shit stops
flowing from your desk top, i'll look your way
and turn you into a real gay, ok?



"cause of death?"

"severe brain trauma sir, he was found shaking profusely beside a copy of The cat in the hat, we assume his brain could not handle that"

RIP Martin

HA! good one :)

Booted Brain

It's cold outdoors
wearing the Boots
she muttered,
neither throttle it much
with the
limiting[LACES],
as it strangulates the
autonomous steps
to proceed further.

Nor let it loosen
much because the
sound footsteps
may stagger.

BOOT the boots
judiciously
to walk few
miles.

OOps did i say
'BOOTS'Or the'BRAIN'??
well it doesn't matter
as
both are shooting
at the extreme ends
And expensive too
(But don't let them
encounter each other)
except the only difference
is that
The former
is best IMPORTED
But the latter isn't..