I wrote a poem a while back that I called “The Most Romantic Poem of All Time.” Well, I’ve retitled it “The Most Romantic Poem in the World” and made it into a video.
Music credits:
“Reaching for you” by DreamhoundIX http://www.newgrounds.com/audio/listen/561226
Bad breath doesn’t get enough love, so I decided to write a poem about it.
Ode to severe halitosis
Your tongue is one big boil
Like meat gone to spoil
Blacker than soil
Your teeth are green
With a shiny purple sheen
They’re anti-clean
Your breath is like wet dog
With just a hint of hog
Thicker than smog
Your mouth is unique
And dare I say chic?
So show off that reek!
Here’s a free verse poem I’ve been working on. It’s a deep treatise about freedom and stripping yourself of society’s expectations. This is actually based on an event in my younger years, when my ideas were still fresh and free. I’ve changed my opinion on clothing in more recent years, but there’s still a place in my heart that still wants to bare my whole self to the world.
Grin and Bare It All
That’s a lovely tie you have there
Was it expensive?
Or did you get it on sale?
Ties are like a noose around my neck
I could never wear one
Day in Day out
Like a leash leading me to
my cell
Where I would toil in a desert
of cubicles
My only release the oasis
of a water cooler
I prefer an open neck
Free of expectations
and tie sweat
My bare neck is a billboard
to the world that says:
Not for sale!
Other garments are the same
Cloth promises
to a heartless world
I like to strip them all off
and run around town
baring my freedom
to all I pass by
People don’t like seeing
my freedom
It scares them
And they hide their eyes
I yell at them to remove
their woven shackles
But they’d rather stay wrapped
In society
And my freedom gets quite chilly
when I do this in winter
Frostbite is a small price
to pay
But that won’t stop me
in my jiggly dance of liberty
So please Mr. Judge
I’m not a streaker
I just want to teach the world
to screw the world and its reliance on clothes
So see, you should give me a medal
and release me
Please Mr. judge
please?*
*Note: The judge did not listen to my plea and fined me $400 dollars and ordered me to see a therapist.
I’ve decided to write a poem for anyone else suffering from the condition known as Spasticasia. Well, it’s known to me as that. Most people know it as having two left feet, or dancing like a drunken koala.
Dancing Fool
Can’t find the rhythm
Can’t find the beat
Can’t even find
My own two feet
Flailing my arms
Like they’re on fire
Twisting my waist
Like it’s stuck in a tire
Bump and grind
Becomes bump and trip
If I’m not careful
I’ll just up and slip
No I’m not dying
It’s just how I flow
Don’t dial 911
Just get on with the show
Misjudged a kick
Hit someone’s shin
That’s my signal
The night’s come to an end
All in all
I had a good time
You say my dancing’s bad
I say it’s sublime!
I’m sure this poem will speak to the hearts of all those with a bad case of Spasticasia, whether chronic or applied. (Applied Spasticasia is also known as bad dancing brought on by massive alcohol consumption. I happen to have both conditions.) Whenever you flail your limbs at a nightclub or a school dance, remember that you are the dancing equivalent of a stick figure. And stick figures are awesome! Embrace your lack of rhythm, for you are free… free from the bonds of tempo and pace. You no longer even dance to beat of your own drummer, as you killed that drummer and replaced it with a drunken otter smashing a rock on its head.
Dance on, all you flailers and trippers. Dance like there’s no tomorrow! (Seriously, if you pretend the world’s about to end, the panic greatly increases your Spasticasic movements.)
This is my attempt at the most romantic poem of all time:
My love itches like a flea
It fills me like beer tinged pee
That I’m in love is not news
It leaks from my feet to squelch in my shoes
—————————————–
My love is like a rabid dog
It pours from my mouth like slobbery fog
My mind is crazed with love tonight
I’ll find random people and bite bite bite
—————————————–
My love is like upturned trash
It came into my life with a mighty crash
There’s dripping bits of love debris
I grab it all for me me me
—————————————–
My love is like a plate of peas
It curdles in my heart and turns to cheese
With every taste of my love cheddar
It just gets better and better
I really love plastic wrap and all you can do with it. You can keep your food fresh, spray paint it and wear it as a shirt and wrap and turn it into a homemade slip and slide. So, here’s a poem to state my love of plastic wrap once and for all.
My Heart Beats For Plastic Wrap
Plastic wrap me up
In your clingy cocoon
I’ll burst out
A well preserved butterfly
–
You preserve my food
And make a good flag
You cling to my skin
Like a sunburn peel
–
You’re slippery when wet
But not when dry
You smell like feet
If I burn you
–
Oh plastic wrap
My useful friend
Wrap me up
In your clingy cocoon
I decided to write a poem for zombies, those lovable flesh eating corpses.
Ode to Zombies
The sun shone bright on my head.
It didn’t matter that I was dead.
People screamed and ran away.
But all I wanted to do was play.
Zombie tag is quite a thrill.
We shuffle along, going in for the kill.
We take your brain and wolf it down.
Then we all go and party down.
We get drunk and dance ‘til dawn.
And then all crash at Forest Lawn.
Everyone should get on the zombie train.
All it costs is a bit of brain.
I wrote a few poems for children and read them at a library’s story time. The parents were less than pleased and screamed at me to leave. I don’t know what I did wrong. My mother used to read me poems like them all the time when I was a kid.
Well, here are the poems. Maybe you can tell me why they aren’t kid friendly.
Little Billy Went to Town,
Little Billy Met a Clown
The Clown gave Billy a buck
Then Little Billy got hit by a truck
Sunny Suzy had a doll
She loved it to bits
The doll was filled with lead
Which gave Sunny Suzy fits
All the little puppies came out to play
Look at them romp around,
In their little puppy way
They chew on the table
And pee on the floor
And leave a special surprise
Just outside the door
Damn puppies!
The sun is shining brightly
And the sand waits to be traversed
We’re stuck in the Namib Desert
And we’re gonna die of thirst
My love is deep
Deeper than a well
But it’s not for you, jerkoff
I hope you rot in hell
I decided to write a poem about a grave injustice foisted on me by what i thought was an understanding piece of savory pie. Let this be a warning to you, not all foodstuffs can be trusted.
Pizza, How Could You Burn My Mouth?
Bubbling sauce, melting cheese
Taste beyond compare
Welcomed kiss, of hungry teeth
Mouth in anticipation
Blinding pain, hanging skin
My heart betrayed
Pizza, how could you burn my mouth?
I thought we had something special.
I wrote a poem for my shoehorn today. If it was alive, I bet it would be might pleased.
Shoehorn
I’m a heel
But you lift my sole
Calloused as it is
You never leave my hangnailing
Toe to toe, we’ll always stand
You’re a shoe-in to win my heart
My precious horn of shoe
Cartopia 