Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Perfectly Pointless Poems #2

Hey kids! It's time for another dose of FREE poetry! Collect them all! Details on specially marked boxes of Echoes of the Wordsmith.


Tree of Death

People were
sleeping.
The roots
grew over them.




Ode to Birtha

Oh Birtha, because of you my life is so great.
From your huge belly, to your lizard like skin,
to your stinky feet, and your red eyes filled with hate,
I love to watch you at breakfast, drinking your gin.
Your teeth are sharp, dirty, and such a nice shade of green,
Your hair is his like a beautiful bird’s nest, (it’s made of straw.)
I love the way your neon green shirts always smell like gasoline.
I’m so happy to have you, we walk hand in claw.
I adore the way you hit me when I’m not home on time,
and the way your face is wrinkly, plump and dark yellow.
I’m enchanted by the way you walk, (leaving a trail of slime)
Thank you Birtha, for you’ve made me so joyous and mellow.

       And I look towards the sky as I hold my lovely cow,
       And I say to God, “Who am I kidding!? Kill me now!”


Evil Song

Kill your Father!
Kill your Mother!
Kill your Brother!
And drink his blood!!

Beat some nuns!
Squash a frog!
Vote Republican!
And eat your dog!!

Steal a bum's only rags!
Don't wear deodorant on your date!
Grandma is your punchin’ bag!
Return rental movies... late!!

Friday, August 6, 2010

Perfectly Pointless Poems #1

The Course Overload series will be returning in the next post. Today, I have chosen to educate you with some delightful, classy poetry.

A Ninja is Waiting (4U)


It's true, it's true
a ninja lies in wait
just for you

You think you can run
you think you can hide
but that ninja
is right by your side

and you're gonna die
yes, you're gonna die



Eskimo Love


The Erotic Eskimo;
he likes his lovin'
cold.




One for J.J.


Swinging high above the sky scrapers,
he waits;
the sounds of city life
swirl around him
like the delicate scent
of an expensive perfume.

Clinging to a building,
he watches;
clouds just overhead,
the people look like ants
in some sort of giant,
smog-entwined zoo.
He's your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man;
watching over his home from the heavens,
and doing whatever a spider can.