Can you put humor in a poem?

You can have as many entries as you want
as long as you want
About anything

Hmmm.... Ill be back.

So your mom died
now shes in paradise
where families reunite
never again terrorized
Thats what you tell
But why do you cry?
As if a cello's depressing whine
On an event clearly of joy
blessed are those who mourn
A make yourself feel better,
BLUAHAHAHAHAH.

misinterpreted by many
the thralls believe
suffering is eternal here
when what lies above
is anguish forever
for crazies in white veils
sings praises in high pitch groan
to a narcissistic tyrant everyday
a mad house, evidently

reign in hell, joy for the sane
burn your spirit with lovers and friends
this is home for us free spirits
for our concert is forever
here, eistein discovered rave-ity
lou reed jams heroin
the doors sings the beginning
satan and beelzebub
performing wizardry
renounce evil, let's party

Beyond the clouds
of purest white
Visible in the afterlife
Stood a floating isle
of pure rainbow hues, untainted
There lives a Lord,
with obsessive cleaniness disorder
But a lazy sloth he is
He doesn't clean, rather
He flings the tainted
Forever out of his sight,
Adequate he finds
So take a bath
before your soul rise
If your joy
there to be found

Cookie Cake Blues

I'm just a
lonely cookie cake I'm sittin'
here all day just
waitin' for someone to
take me sittin' here
with the baked goods
baked goods just makin' me look bad
I got

frosting: month-old buttermilk
chocolate chips just waitin' to grow some mold
preservatives don't work as well with humidity
and all I've learned is one single lesson in humility

I'm just a
ugly cookie cake
I get a one, single, double, triple
quadruple take ev'ry time
a shopper comes in lookin'
to take a cake
home for
the family holiday
but I got

a sell-by stamp: way past date
a 20-dollar price tag; that's too much to pay
rainbow sprinkles that are hard as a rock
I'm waitin' to get thrown out next time that they're
closin' up shop!

I'm just a
bachelor cookie cake
a promising musician waitin' for his big break
not granola, not jogurt, and def'nitely not steak
I'm just a girthy, murky-colored, smelly
sanitary? not so very
trapped inside this piece of plastic
guaranteed to make kids spastic
tear-inducing, post-consuming
cookie cake

and that's the way I'm gonna stay

Feathered Revenge


Common wings spread proud and free
On display for all to see
Watch me fly watch me soar
Above the people on the floor


Pesky bird I hear you say
You wave a hand to keep me away
A gift I give to you instead
I drop my crap onto your head


While you're busy being mortified
Food there in your hand I've spied
I swoop in close and take from you
Your sandwich lunch a tasty chew


You wave your fist and curse at me
Lift your head so you can see
Once again I swoop in low
And crap on you before I go




*

Ode to Bisplaced Meginnings (Strophe)

O, the Bisplaced Meginning
Crafting humour in all
Crafting humour in all
Now Sharlie Cheen is winning
And the writings of Roald Dahl
Are writings of Doald Rahl

It gently caresses (so kently garessing)
And fittingly dresses (it drittingly fesses)
Like a Belour Vodyglove

Ode to Bisplaced Meginnings (Antistrophe)

O, Bisplaced Meginning I encounter thou
O, Bisplaced Meginning I encounter thou
Whilst Beading Rooks about Purgatory and how
Whilst Beading Rooks about Purgatory and how
Boovies like Pot Skilgram make us laugh and
Mooks by Marl Karx will make us crink and then
Thry

cutting ties

anxiety wracks this mind I inhabit  
I never know where anything goes  
everything he demands = everything I can never do  
all that is demanded of me > what I can accomplish  
in the beginning he claimed I was perfect  
that first meeting was so long ago  
now i can't even clean up my own mistakes,  
I think the boiling point was months ago  
I woke up a cold sweat  
violent thoughts  
as always  
in my head  
I can never do the things I want to do to end it  
extra line that fills in space before the twist  
I se/ver my tie  
striped velvet, flashing by  
and  
Passively Agressive  
drop it in the water cooler  
no pink slip for me..

of worth that matters not

I believe in making sacrifices for personal gain
Like running out late at night for a fix
The price is a bit higher than it was last week
It's cool.

It's not like I can think clearly enough to do the math
As I'm handing over those crumpled bills
I cut someone off in my rush to get home
Good thing.

No police were there I forgot to bring my license
Back at my apartment, I waste no time
The sign on the door is a deep red colour now
It still reads 'rent overdue' just like always
Whatever.

I hustle to my room with the goods
I don't know why I still lock the door behind me
Janine stormed out months ago
No Matter. Probably for the best.

I take my treaure out of the bag
My armpit passes dangerously close to my nose
I stink of urine and sweat
Or maybe they call it anticipation..
Who gives?

I take the stuff in my hand
But I'm shaking
And it falls to the floor
It takes a minute to recover from the panic
But at least I got more than one
Going down it soothes, burning ever so slightly
And feeling like nothing else on Earth
After a few hours I run out
And remember again why I choose to live my life this way
It's all for you
Dr. Pepper you so crazy

Thank you all for you poems :)

The Land of Sleep

The Land of Sleep is hard to reach
When you set out from Not Tired Beach.
Ahead stretch miles and miles of night,
But Slumber Point is not in sight.
Deep in the woods of Wide Awake,
You thresh around. Which path to take?
You try the route of Tranquil Thought,
But all your efforts come to nought.
Perhaps a book? The clock tolls one,
Too tired to read, you soldier on.
For hours, your thoughts and sleep contend;
God, will this journey never end?
As first light dawns, you sense a calm,
A peaceful, drowsy, healing balm.
Dozing, you drift through misty vales,
Stark wakefulness no more prevails,
Soft breezes blow, cool willows weep,
But just before the Gulf of Sleep,
One more shape looms, to your dismay:
Alas, it's Time To Get Up Bay.

HIKING NAKED - FUNNY EROTICA

Sitting in the doctors waiting room

A pile of magazines, mostly on health

Somebody is hiking nude, testifies its good for you

Well Tim and I are going camping

To Algonquin Park

We could try that - see if what they say is true

We finally get out of Toronto

The air is getting fresh

Tim drives like a maniac

Just to be in that canoe

We have all out gear and are paddling out

When the bugs starts to whiz pass by

And I begin to doubt

After hours of paddling and portaging

We get to our campsite just in time to see the sun going out

Setting up our tent, securing everything, takes us time

We sleep like the dead

The sun rises like a round pink orange touching the sky

We make a fire and decide what to try

We take out our portable painting gear

And hike to a spot - which we both agree

Is magnificent scenery

The morning passes by in oils and acrylics

Soon it is getting hot

The water looks so appealing

We jump in without our clothes

So far, so good - we make love on the shore

Then I remind him of naked hiking

So we leave our gear and with only a compass

We walk in the woods for about an hour

We walk back - get our gear and go back to camp

Spent the whole day nude and it was a lot of fun

However as the sun goes down the bugs begin to bite

We try to stay naked but are beaten by the mosquitoes

We have bites everywhere - but what is most unfair

I have a bite on my vagina and he has a bite on his penis

Therefore heed not what you read - the person needs to write

And poets and writers have a license for exaggeration.