The engines groan in disrepair,
Our pilot moans in bleak despair,
The flight attendants even frown;
This plane of ours is going down
The seconds of our lives grow few;
We’re lost as morning’s fleeting dew.
We plummet from the careless sky;
We fall, we cry, we scream, we die T_T
The fuselage of vomit reeks
My stomach joins my mouth and speaks
A “blegh” and “ughh.” The final spout
Of life through jarbled words breaks out.
But say I proud, not all is lost.
While bodies through the air are tossed,
They live until they strike the ground,
And in these moments, death confound!
So all I ask, a small request,
Is just to know your supple chest.
For there will ever be much hope,
If you just let me steal a grope.
If I Were a Lesbian
Apparently, you did not know,
That I am prejudiced.
It seems the memo that I sent
You really must have missed.
You see, I am quite disinclined to
Date your sort and type.
It’s not your fault, Of course it’s not,
love's fruit is just not... ripe.
Don’t take it that I’m saying that
I will not take a chance,
But in effect that’s what I say;
That way I do not dance!
You see, at birth, the doctor said
Out loud “Please meet your girl!”
And ever since, I’ve been a leaf upon
The woman’s burl.
Nor am I quite new-age enough
To love the fairer sex.
So though you may be beautiful,
Your fancies truly vex.
To put it very bluntly,
Here and now, I’m forced to say
Though I admire your courage
I am certainly not gay.
My love for you is like this soup.
A viscous broth so rich and fine:
At once a drink and meal for gods.
With stringy chunks of goop divine,
And mushrooms fresh from yonder wood
I know you’ll love its classy taste.
Inside this creamy soup of love,
Not one fried cricket goes to waste.
No squirming snail, nor lawn-mown grass,
I promise you, does my soup lack.
You’ll know you’ve tasted heaven when
You see the giant orange stack
Of rotten carrots, left outside,
A little longer than a year
Or maybe two, but oh so fresh.
A cup of health will you find here.
Besides your liver and your ears,
This soup is healthy for your heart.
But of the floating thumb, I swear,
I absolutely had no part!
Ahh wonderful! Your face is pale
With hunger for my soup... I think.
I swoon upon your blanching cheeks,
That beam as whitely as the mink
I put inside my soup of love.
So drink right up, why do you pause?
You know that nothing bad can come
From oven-roasted lizard claws.
So beautiful is what you are.
Just like my soup, you are my star.
So drink it up; I love you so,
And will so still, if you say Blargh!
The Pearly Queen, or the Misplaced Toilet
I woke one day to catch a stare
As wide awake as day.
And with her smile so calm and fair
She wiped my gloom away.
I recognized her handsome face.
I’d seen it oft before.
But ne’er could I, as now, embrace
This goddess on my floor.
My queen, dethroned, still looked so grand,
So gentle and so gay.
I lent to her my open hand
But she, with great dismay.
Refused my touch with teary eye,
So flush did she become!
So quickly to that great supply
Of gloom did she succumb.
As saddened as the awful air,
And inches from my bed
She cried a stream, the lady fair,
Upon the carpet-spread.
Yet through each tear and wav’ring sigh
My heart did surely bleed!
How dare I try to satisfy
The lover’s other need!
I realized the gravity
Of this, my grievous crime
Not fully ‘till I saw the sea
Of gloom flow thick as grime
Across the once unsoiled ground.
It was a star-crossed tryst!
But still, her kiss was so profound;
I wisely held my piss.
I think you’re really cool and such,
But understand you must,
That if you place a kiss on me
My neck you may well bust.
My doctor says I have a weakened disc
Within my spine.
But luckily, with treatment, he
assures me I'll be fine.
But that could all so quickly change
With lips so sweet and red.
A single kiss might wrench my neck
And leave me good as dead.
So though I wish to consummate
Our yearning for that kiss,
I’m fragile so I guess it is
A pleasure we will miss!