UnPoetia:A Collection of Fantastic Rhymes

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Revision as of 14:40, July 8, 2007 by 72.138.231.58 (talk)

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Prepare to be shocked and amazed at what 9 a couple of shots of Vodka and the ability to rhyme can do, by a thankfully anonymous group of Poets. Before we delve into this amazing collection, get your poem appreciation hats on. The ones with the beer cans and rubber tubes.

Ode to a Dead Puppy

What is that form, in the road?
It is a puppy, in front of my abode.
Flattened by a cruel, metal rectangle
The poor dog the car did mangle.

Red and guts and fur in the street,
Oh road waffle, at my feet.
You are flat, as a flounder.
Oh puppy, you took a pounder!

What messy fate has lured you here?
Be it bone, cat, or bouncy rubber sphere?
Yes, a ball has sent you to the abyss,
And 3 tons have shattered your Pelvis.

Oh poor puppy, so lifeless at my feet,
You look just like variety meat.
I want to taste the little dickens.
Mmmmm, tastes like chicken.

Blade of Grass

Stubborn, bitch, blade of grass.
No matter how much I mow, I miss you, you pain in the ass.

Vocabulary

Licon, Carruba, gisenyi, Viega;
Isgrigg, Kast, Jarvik, Talledega;
Spruell, Schwerdt, Biel, Aleen
I don't know what the fuck these words mean.

Boner

Occipital, Parietal, Ulna, Pelvis,
Scaphoid, Radius, Capate, Humerus,
Frontal, Thoracic, Lumbar, Tibia,
Maxilla, Calcanius, Cuniform, Fibula,
Atlas, Platella, Sternum, Sphenoid,
Scapula, Clavicle, Phillangies, Ethmoid
Sacrum, Coccyx, Cervical, Hamate,
These are the bones of the Road Waffle Puppy I ate.

Soviet Russia

Why is it that you conduct these reversals?
I like them. They are universal.
Always brightining the page with your humorous swap,
Yet sometimes as annoying as a motorcycle cop.

You continue to construct all that is clandestine,
such as doing things that the US is best in.
Yet all this work can discombobulate,
More than a survey on Sedimentary Rate.

Go feed your people, and grow some bread,
And Stalin is a poopy-head.
And Lenin, too, on that account.
By an indefinate amount.

Soviet Russia, you speak Russian.
Well I'm here, let's have that discussion.
Russian sounds funny, and your alphabet is most foul.
I'm sorry, I'm starting to run afoul.

Soviet Russia, go away.
just like Jean Baptiste Pierre Antoine de Monet.
What! You've been dissolved for two decades!
About time you've gotton some upgrades.

Math

Math, math, feeleth thy wraith.
I feel everything that thee hath.
1+1 mayeth equal 2,
but everything else is worth poo.

Haiku

This Haiku has too many sounds
and way too many rounds.
But you didn't count 'til I pointed it out.
Now go away, and get the grout,

Summer

In summertime, I got out of school!
Summer is HELLA cool!
It's really hot, and the sun is out!
Best time of the year, without any doubt!

I can go swimming now, cuz it's so hot!
But just in the sewage tank; that's all this town's got!
Or go everywere with my friends!
And we can set all kinds of trends!

I love summer more than myself!
More than Santa, that pissant old elf!
Summer, summer, you're HELLA COOL!
Oh shit! Cuz I failed, I'm going to summer school!

Summer School

I am bored out of my goddamn mind.
Summer school is the curse of mankind.

Mystery Object

Can you guess what this thing is?
The one that guesses it, this object is his.
This object is yellow,
Dropped by a fellow.
Oval in shape,
Nothing you'd rape.
Large shapes protrude from its surface,
Even though nothing is amiss.
A foul odor eminates from within,
Dropping this should be a sin!
Its taste is similar to that Road Waffle,
Yet, somehow, much more awful.








This object is a pile of vomit.
Anyone want it?

Rain

Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip,
drip, drip, drip, drip, drip,
drip, drip, drip, drip, drip,
drip, drip, drip, drip, drip,
drip, drip, drip, drip, drip,
drip, drip, drip, drip, drip,
drip, drip, drip, drip, drip,
drip, drip, drip, drip, drip,
drip, drip, drip, drip, drip,
drip, drip, drip, drip, drip,
drip, drip, drip, drip, drip,
drip, drip, drip, drip, drip,
drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, Oh, damn, I'm wet.

Cleaning Day

Why is it that I must clean?
Always in the same routine!
Every other fucking day!
For what?! It gets back to the messy way!

Vacuum the floor? For what?
Tomorrow it'll be hairy from the mutt!
Dust! pick up your dead skin?!
When I can't stand to be in the room you're in!

Pick up my shit on the floor!
I'm not cleaning forever more!
No more cleaning, that's right.
No more vacuuming in the middle of the night!

Hey! Not cleaning was a great idea!
And she leaves me alone like I have Diarrhea!
While she cleans, I'm gonna sit.
Oh fuck! I broke my leg tripping over my shit!

Church

You're sitting there, holding hands,
with a man, that barely understands
church, because he's ninety years old,
having an Asthma Attack, continuing his iron hold.

Everyone around you is hacking into your face,
The only ones in the church, in this place.
Not aiming at anyone but you.
And the old bastards are giving you the flu!

And babies are crying, loud as they can,
As you're being coughed on by this man.
And the priest says, over the din:
<insert name here>, God will never forgive you for your sin!

The Trainwreck, with Sound Effects

The train was going real real fast.
I almost didn't see it when it went past.
Then it made a noise like SSSSKKKKKRRREEEEEEAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH
That scared the shit out of me.

And then it went over for 3 revolutions,
causing all sorts of metal pollutions.
And there was blood and guts, and people dead,
and everything was a venetian red.

And the people all said AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!
I was the deffinition of PAH!
There were police on the scene,
Inspecting the carnaged machine.

And then I was arrested.
On account of the dead dog that I molested
And the moral of the story is don't eat dead K9's,
Lest you serve time and pay numerous fines.

The Bouncy Ball

Boy plays with bouncy ball
It gets away; it's down the hall!
Out the door and hits some guy
Knocks him to the pavement dry

But that's okay, 'cause he was high.

Boy chases the bouncy blur
A man says, "Look out, sir!"
It's too late, the car drives away
The boy was the second to die that day

The massacre on the second of may.

Flooding

The playground floods
The childrens DIE
And far away
Their mothers cry

The swingset is rusted,
They wish they had trusted
The weather channel news at eight
That was on earlier that day.

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