Tag Archives: Flowers

The Other Primary Color

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

And yellow’s just like

“Wut dawg? U trippin’ bro?

“Violets are fuckin’ purple,

“And just ’cause I don’t rhyme easily

“Y’all just acting like dandelions and sunflowers and poppies and buttercups and, oh yeah yellow roses, don’t exist?

“Naw dawg, whatever. I’m out.”

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Nothing Says “Please Don’t Hit Me With The Cleaver Again” Like Flowers

My neighbor has a rose garden

That he’s tended all his life

Which really makes you wonder:

Just how angry is his wife?

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Meanwhile Someone Is Eating Water And Watching Their IQ Rise

The roses are dead.

The violets are too.

Someone swapped the water

With adhesive glue.

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Maybe Act More Violet?

Roses are red,

Roses are white,

Roses are yellow and pink.

Your are like a rose

As you have many facets

But, unlike a rose, they all stink.

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Flowery Thoughts

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Yet a more valuable fact

Is less cited as true:

They’re symbols of waste,

The decay of one’s youth,

Yet one must buy flowers

To prove that you’re couth.

For every blue violet

And red rose you eschew

The longer the doghouse

Shall be fate for you.

So for my fellow rebels

Who see trees but not forests…

When we kill all the lawyers

Let’s also kill florists.

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Why I Never Got Together With That Cute Girl In Class

What wonder has a flower,

A daisy or a rose,

To the clueless human

As on its way it goes?

A work of nature, beautiful,

Is worth not but a glance

For what interest has a human

In the idle ways of plants?

But a very ugly flower

That can nauseate by sight,

That makes you want to kick a baby,

Draw attention that just might.

So when you see the spiders

Crawling from my bloodshot eyes

I seek your fondness and attention.

‘Twas not that so very wise?

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The Jury’s Still Out On Flowers Though…

I’m sitting in the forest,

Bony flesh among the trees,

Trying to consort with both

The flowers and the bees.

As the hours came and went

And nature’s reply did not

I remembered my childhood

And found I had a thought:

The scarecrow of Dorothy’s comp’ny

Lacked a brain, which stopped him from

Doing as I was attempting.

So I questioned: “Am I dumb?”

One of the bees responded:

“Nope. Now go back to the mall.”

I did just that, but pleased

That bees aren’t assholes after all.

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