Tag Archives: humor

Father’s Day

I’m glad I don’t have children and don’t celebrate Father’s Day,

So I don’t have to say I like the gifts that come along my way,

The starchy shirts, the puke-green socks, that stuff for cleaning cars,

And all the eager faces saying, Dad, we’ve bought you land on Mars.

 

I never have to feign delight at books about Top Gear,

Or have to eat what kids have cooked, a parent’s greatest fear,

I don’t get jars of after shave that smell of cat urine,

Or have to tell my eager brood that I like the tie just fine.

 

So, keep your tins of toffee bits and lotions to make me tingle,

For when you mention Father’s Day, I can safely say, I’m single.

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Filed under black humor, black humour, Cautionary tale, Father's Day, funny poem, humor, humorous verse, humour, whimsy

The Tragic Passing of Undead Augustus

There once lived a boy called Augustus Fred,

Who wouldn’t get up and just lay in his bed,

He slept all day and slept all night,

A disgrace to his father, to his mother a blight.

 

One day they decided to open his curtains,

The sun would surely him out for a Burton,

But Augustus had nailed them tightly shut tight,

So the light in his room was always night.

 

So they opened the door and wheeled out his bed,

And though he lay dormant as if he was dead,

They pushed his bed to the sun so bright,

Said, look my son, this is daylight.

But he just went all a-quiver and turned to ash,

And Mum said, Blimey, we’ve settled his hash!

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Filed under black humor, black humour, Cautionary tale, comic verse, funny poem, humor, humorous verse, humour, Nonsense verse, whimsy

A Vampire’s Prayer for the Demise of Stephenie Meyer

Oh Stephenie Meyer
On your funeral pyre,
What have you done to the poor vampire?

You’ve capped his fangs,
You’ve staked his heart,
Cut off his head,
Oh, you think you’re smart.

You’ve dwarfed old Drac,
And his werewolf kin,
Oh, pity the day they invited you in.

But Stephenie Meyer
With your financial fire,
I really don’t care that your books are dire,

But by the ghosts of Lugosi,
Langella and Schreck,
We humbly curse
Your royalty cheque.

For you’ve left the vampire
Bankrupt and blutered,
And though Pattinson’s beautiful,
Nosferatu’s neutered.

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The Curmudgeon’s Valentine

I’m a man of scant enjoyment, a regular gloomy git,
A perpetual complainer, a really mis’rable shit,
I think chocolates are for losers and I spurn your red, red, rose,
For it makes me sneezy anyways and gets right up my nose.

I don’t care for soppy greetings card or flowers made of silk,
I don’t want to get toy animals or have a bath in milk,
Posh rest’rants make me nauseous, and red wine makes me boak,
And to suggest I go and dine with you, is, well, just a stupid joke.

So, please, don’t send me valentines, don’t say that you’ll be mine,
I live in isolation here and, yes, I’m doing fine,
I have no pets or partners, not e’en a goldfish in a bowl,
But I have to say I like it here, it’s therapeutic for the soul.

So, serve me soup and Kit Kat bars on a cloth of purest white,
And go celebrate some other place and spare me from your shite.

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Filed under black humor, black humour, comic verse, funny poem, humor, humorous verse, humour, parody, St Valentine's Day

Animal Crackers

I was a “take-away poet” at Portobello Library (Edinburgh) yesterday, where people would come up to me and ask me to write a poem for them. There were all sorts of requests, but my favourite was a little girl called Iona who wanted a poem about small cute animals, leopard cubs in particular!

The animals were talking in the jungle one day,
There were tigers and leopards and a cheetah called Ray,
When Mister Len Leopard, announced to the group,
That his good wife was cooking some antelope soup.

And the tigers and wolf-cubs and lions and bears,
Went round to the Leopards’ and sat down in chairs,
And good Mrs Leopard served up bowls of stew,
With side orders of salad and antelope goo!

But at the top of the table sat a cub called Iona,
A cute spotted leopard cub, I’m sure that you know her,
She ate soup with her parents and said, this is good,
I’ll have second helpings, I think that I should.

So she ate and she ate, she had elephant cake,
Green octopus salad and mockingbird bake,
Salt-battered conger eel tart and walrus bratwurst,
But just before pudding, Iona, she burst!

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Filed under black humor, black humour, comic verse, humor, humorous verse, humour, Nonsense verse, Take-Away Poetry, Web Poetry, whimsy

Edgar Allen Poe in Suburbia

The fucking dog barked all day and all night, and the kid just kept shouting at it. “Pluto, hey, Pluto!” like he was Mickey fucking Mouse or something.

I tried throwing things, I tried bribery, I even tried violence, but nothing worked. Damn kid and damn dog just yapped all god-damned night and day.

Eventually, I took matters into my own hands. I dug a huge pit in the yard and I threw the dog into it, and, when the kid yelled at me, I threw him in too.

Then I filled it in and concreted over the top of it. Peace at last. Or that’s what I thought.

The damn dog just kept on barking under the ground and I could hear the kid still ineffectually yelling at him. All night and day. Echoing in my head. Round and round.

Could I cling on to whatever shards of reason I still possessed? Was I mad?

There was only one thing left for me to do to preserve my sanity.

Move.

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House of Usher plc

It was turning into quite a dull dark and soundless day at House of Usher plc. There had been complaints about a black cat who had swallowed a whole cask of Amontillado, tried to eat a raven at the local cemetery and then promptly thrown it all up over the pristine tomb of Ligeia. Luckily, the local paper had given this no publicity as it was obsessed with the current spate of murders in the Rue Morgue, but it was a near thing, and to make the day worse, Annabelle Lee, a rival executive at Pit and Pendulum, had successfully bid for the Lenore account.

The parent firm had sent someone over to remonstrate, of course, a Monsieur Valdimar from the Paris office, but there had been a mix-up with his luggage at Heathrow and he’d arrived clutching a strange case. So, all in all, it had been a pretty disastrous morning, and when asked if he was coming back, the departing Frenchman clutched his tell-tale heart theatrically and replied, “Nevermore!”

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