The first layer of Hell is full
Of normal people. It is musty.
In the second layer are gluttons,
The slothful and the lusty.
The third layer’s for murderers,
And it smells like rotting poop.
Everyone else goes to the deepest layer
Where they play Taylor Swift on an infinite loop.
“Chickens don’t believe in God
“So chickens go to Hell.”
That’s what Grandma told me
And so far it’s served me well.
Guitar housemate is playing
Resounding evening chords
That resonate throughout the house
And shake its very boards.
Will suffer at a later time
Thanks to my new “grow your own giant roach” kit
And 2-day shipping from Amazon Prime.
Sometimes in our sweet world
Hell freezes over
And you find no joy in puppies
And no luck in a four-leaf clover.
But other times our sweet world
Goes to the regular fiery Hell
And we shed our layers and get a tan
And enjoy it pretty well.
So if you’re doomed to misery
Throughout all your days
You may as well enjoy it
And smile anyways.
And if not you can leave a sarcastic comment for a preachy poet. 🙂
Bacon is like Hell,
As I know all too well.
Both hurt in the end,
And the scars never mend,
But before all that, they’re swell!
Waiting at the DMV
Is not too bad for me.
Maybe it’s painful for you,
Not being “R362.”
As they serve R529
I continue to feel just fine.
Then they call up R360
And we’re one step closer to helping me!
A few minutes later R361.
I am almost having fun.
And then there’s R363.
Did they really just skip me?
I bring my ticket to the desk
And ask them straight-up, “what the hesk?”
They say to kindly sit and wait.
I’m now R758.
I came to the gym just to train,
And I tried to exercise well.
Then some guy says to me “No pain, no gain.”
I think he’ll be happy in Hell.