Somebody once thought
We should take the white things chickens poop
And break them in a pan
Over a fire
Until they’re still damp
But also really warm
Then cover them in fermented milk
And dehydrated seawater
And fill them with vegetables no one likes
And sell them to husbands for $18
To appease their sexually frustrated wives
And call it brunch.
Once upon a time there was sugar
Until some guy made a ball
That was entirely made out of sugar
But harder to swallow it all
And people decided to buy it,
This sugary sphere that was built,
For to swallow ten times as much spit in a day
But without all that damnable guilt.
I met a guy
Who was afraid of the ocean,
The salt and the seaweed
And unending motion.
I said “You can fix it!
“Come swimming with me!”
Then I murdered and canned him
‘Cause he was Chicken of the Sea.
While I was making sweet, sweet love
To my canoe, I thought:
“Just because your love’s forbidden
“Doesn’t mean it’s hot.”
If your name were Bedtime
And asked for a bedtime story
People might share anecdotes
Of you in all your glory.
Your children might get all confused
When it’s their rest-your-head time
And you ask them to ask you
“Tell me a story, Bedtime?”
Or say you want a lesson
In a subject like history
And you have to tell somebody
“Tell me, Bedtime, a story.”
One thing no one asks though
Is why Bedtime isn’t sad
When he tells the story of the time
He killed his mom and dad…
The sun was a brilliant scarlet
Upon the rustling brush,
Redder than a hemorrhoid
Who’s asking out its crush.
Within the brush are little jays,
Their feathers dark and blue
Much like the mood experienced
When one eats eyeball stew.
The birds were eating insects
So tiny and so green
Like little child soldiers
The birds, thus having eaten
Flew off to sunset orange.
Alas, this leaves no conclusive rhyme
But judging by the imagery of previous examples, I doubt you’re disappointed.
Well, you tried to con a dollar
From my hard day’s work
But I’ve never worked a day in my life.
Then you tried to sell me something
In an unmarked bag.
I said “Maybe, but I gotta ask my wife.”
Then you pulled a Smith and Wesson
From your paint-on jeans
And you told me “Pull your wallet out slow.”
Nine months later you’ve a stroller,
I’m approved for my parole-a.
When it’s love, sometimes you just know.
Steve and Sharocco are tigers
But they are not alike.
Steve enjoys a day at the spa;
Sharocco likes to hike.
Steve likes Bob Ross videos;
Sharocco likes to knit.
But both love eating human flesh
So along they somehow get.
My breath smelled like a customer service hotline
So I set off to buy me a mint.
The vending machine said “Out of order”
But instead of taking the hint
I shook it, kicked it, bopped it, kissed it,
Took it to Peru.
Now it’s been 30 years today
Since it didn’t say “I do.”