Tag Archives: Black Humor

An Important Choice

If I were a chess piece

I think I be a rook

Because I sit in corners

If just to read a book,

I like to walk in long straight lines

And don’t think it’s a hassle

When somebody mistakenly

Refers to me as “Castle.”

I’m not pious for bishopping,

Too smart to be a pawny thing,

I lack the boobs to be a queen

Or the balls to be a king…

So it’s either rook, or else a knight

Who’s called a horse sometimes…

Actually, I’m not hung like a rook…

I’m changing my choice. This line rhymes.

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But If A Doctor Says “Die Jew”, Historians Make A Whole Thing About It…

I don’t know if God is real

But when I went to the doc

I found my religious beliefs attacked

Which was a nasty shock.

He drew some blood, and so I asked

“What’s it called when you do a test?”

Doc said, “Diagnostic”

And I ran away (that seemed best).

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Multipurpose Tool

A shiny new piano

Is a beauty to behold,

And music can bring life and warmth

Despite the rain and cold.

Every key and inch of wood

Brings harmony, dear reader…

Especially when dropped from the 60th floor

Onto the appropriate world leader.

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Dirty Old Sailor Describes A Fond Memory

You’re nervous when you look upon

Her soft, humid curves.

You want nothing more than to

Give all that she deserves

And even as your fingers shake

When you touch her humid walls

The warmth deeper within her

To all your instinct calls.

Trembling, you go inside

And hear her many sounds

As wave and wave again

Against her body pounds.

You know whatever happens

You must not be seen…

Some of you thought of your girlfriend,

But this poem’s about a submarine.

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For A Very Tolerant Mother On This Auspicious Day

My mommy was a mother

Since before I was a brother

To my sister, and she kissed her

And tucked her into bed.

Then my mommy had another

(That was me), and then no other;

She was done, and though now I’m fun

Back then we cried ‘til fed.

And feed us well my mother did,

Both me and that darn other kid,

And I’ve attested she never rested

‘Til we kids were satisfied.

Then we got bigger and less cute;

One could walk and one could scoot,

After baby-proofing and pillow floofing

She probably wanted to hide.

Alas, we found her hiding places

And made her wipe our snotty faces.

She loved us still, despite the thrill

Having long since departed.

And then we started going to school,

Which meant less time mopping our drool.

With phlegmless floors she still did chores

As we laughed and said “I farted.”

And even when my sister was bad

(I never was, just ask our dad)

With grace and calm she’d slap her palm

Anywhere but on our faces.

When we got big and pubescent

She gave us the finest present

Like love and stuff, always enough

Yet gave us private spaces.

And oh the years of meals she cooked,

Though overworked and overlooked!

Oh the the years and sweat and tears

Endured by her for us! She

Will be remembered evermore,

For all of this, but even more:

She inspired my art. She’s old, but not a fart.

I end this poem thusly.

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Why Teaching Young Children How To Clean Their Noses Contributes To The Global Crime Epidemic

My nose was all sniffly;

‘Twas spring in the air.

Faster than you say “piffly”

My Kleenex weren’t there.

I went to the store

To pick up some tissue

But they had no more

And THAT was an issue.

So I grabbed my gun

And went off a raidin’

Until my nose’s run

Could be finished abatin’.

I knocked on a door

And they opened it. Fools!

I shrieked “Get on the floor!”

And I searched through their tools…

Screwdrivers, flashlight,

And nails to pound

But try as I might

There were no Kleenex found.

The cops were approaching

I could hear their siren

And I was encroaching

And expect they’d be firin’

So I took the out…

The only one I had:

I scrunched up my snout

And sniffed like my dad.

That day as the bullets

Riddled my body

I learned snot down the gullet

Is what cops think is naughty.

This family-friendly poem was inspired by my beautiful girlfriend and her nose. Blame her, not me.

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You Kinda Have To Read This Aloud…

Some art is low, and some is high;

You can judge which this one is:.

There was a smart guy

And this story is his:

He was a smart fellow

And he felt smart

But that isn’t yet the funny part…

See two smart fellows,

They felt smart

And that is just the very start.

Repeat with three, then four smart fellows

‘Til your enunciation mellows

And then… perhaps we’ll see, who knows…

A reason smart fellows can crinkle their nose.

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Win-Win(chester)

If everybody had a gun

The world would be a lot of fun

And if everyone died ‘cause I was wrong

No one would complain this poem ain’t long.

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The First Zebra Is Born

There was a majestic white horse

Who was, of nature, a force.

She said “It’s alright

“That our kid’s black and white”

But her husband still wants a divorce.

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Race War, The Board Game

Every time you set up a game

Of chess and take a pawn

You’ve created a token minority.

That’s all for tonight… moving on…

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