“ST. PATRICK’S NEPHEWS!” a poem a.k.a.: “It’s All In The Family!” Sunday 3/17/19
Satan and The Bogey Man – are cousins, once removed!!! When these guys were growing up, the girls REALLY GROOVED, For ALL grew up – in Belfast town, And their third-cousin Santa was often found, SLIDING DOWN “CHIMNEYS!!!” which made the girls squeal!! And then there was this distant cousin, really-quite-the-deal: It-was-their-“tights-wearing”-cousin: Green Goblin, from CORK! He’d GOBBLE all The Green Girls! and, there was-also Cousin Mork! That’s right!-he-got-green-too – colors-like-a-chame-le-on! I’m tellin’ you – THIS FAMILY! They-liked-to-go-’round-feelin’ – EVERYONE! and-sealin’ kisses! on succulent lips!
Yet, The Patriarch! Uncle Patrick! – loved his brews and nips! And he used to hob-nob-off-the-job, with-his-buddy-ol’-Van-Winkle, Who lurked in the woods, like one-o’-the-hoods, and really-liked-to-tinkle! And ALL these guys became famous, by-doing-crazy-stuff-for-a-long-long-time!!!
Of-course, let’s-not-forget-Cousin-Mystic! (also a “distant” cousin!) Who wrote some pretty bad rhyme!
Anyway, to all you crazy people! Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Better wear and/or drink some “GREEN,” or-get-pinched-a-lot-today! And – dance a jig! Be a green, chauvinist pig! IF Trump can do it, then do it BIG, But TRY TO BE NICE, ’cause leprechauns kill twice, And try not to blame it all – on J (Jay)! Have-some-creme-de-menthe-on-ice!
“STAND UP ROUTINE!” a poem March 18, 2019 (Monday)
In: The Loftiest Heavenly Realms AND-also: The Cesspools of “lowest” H – LL, The topic[s] are pretty-much-the-same! and-no-one’s-tryin’-to-sell, Their style – or their topic(s) – as really any better, Than anything else you might talk about – and-there’s-also an-IRISH-setter,* Who LOVES IT when St. Patrick’s Day – comes-around so-he, Can be The Center of Attention – when-he-does his “green-y pee!”
So, we talk NOT ONLY ABOUT BODILY FLUIDS! but, also, different “Tantric” ways, And this is how THE REALLY HOLY – whittle-away their HOLY days, Waiting for their compadres, from the vilest levels of H – L L, So they can all get together – and ring the supper bell, And eat and “roast” and “shoot-the-s – – t,” Talkin’ about topics – for just a bit, But-mostly-anticipating the-best-stand-up-comics-who-come, And then, there’s lots o’ laughter, for we are now among, FOLKS! who judge not – lest they be found, “Perfectly imperfect,” but – we’re ALL-so bound, To appreciate Jesus’ Stand-Up, when-he-goes-“Down-South!” His nickname? That’s-right! It’s: “The-Potty-Mouth!”
Based on Cai-phas and Pilate too, Jesus really – knew how to “spew,” And got crucified [mainly] for-his “bad jokes!” “Don’t CROSS me, man, or Death I-might-just-coax!”
* – Well, it IS the day after St. Patrick’s Day, so you might have expected that! 🙂
“A RHYME TO LOVE!” a poem in the series: “Mr. & Mrs. Cuddly Poo!” a.k.a.: “I Adore You Too!” March 18, 2019 (Moon Day)
I think of your a – – and-it drives me crazy! I think of your b r – – – t s, and I get real lazy, ‘Cause I just want to linger – there, on your t – – t, And suck and suck – and make you we[a]t, And tighten your muscles – in your-tummy-and-v a – – – a! Your b—–milk – just! makes-me-whine-a- And close my eyes and breathe your scent!
Licking your p – – – – ! YOU’RE HEA-VEN-sent!
I am SO hard – and soft for you; Your skin and hair – just make me COO, Like the nursing child – I-AM all right!
Your va- – – – l muscles? They hold me tight!
Our skin is flushed – our breathing’s-slow; I eat your body – and want-you-to-know, THERE ARE NO THOUGHTS WHEN WE’RE EMBRACED! The warm-flowing-liquids we crave to taste, Although perhaps-loathsome? – to-our-neighbors and “friends,” WHO JEALOUSLY ENCOUNTER – OUR “SEXUAL ENDS,” Which ERUPT in passion – and/or-laughter-and-play! If we don’t watch it, we’ll DO IT all day, Sleeping forever, CUDDLED-BEYOND TIME!
His name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer. One day, while trying to make a living for his family, he heard a cry for help coming from a nearby bog. He dropped his tools and ran to the bog.
There, mired to his waist in black muck, was a terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free himself. Farmer Fleming saved the lad from what could have been a slow and terrifying death
The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman’s sparse surroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved.
‘I want to repay you,’ said the nobleman. ‘You saved my son’s life.’
‘No, I can’t accept payment for what I did,’ the Scottish farmer replied waving off the offer. At that moment, the farmer’s own son came to the door of the family hovel.
‘Is that your son?’ the nobleman asked. ‘Yes,’ the farmer replied proudly.
‘I’ll make you a deal. Let me provide him with the level of education my own son will enjoy If the lad is anything like his father, he’ll no doubt grow to be a man we both will be proud of.’ And that he did.
Farmer Fleming’s son attended the very best schools and in time, graduated from St Mary’s Hospital Medical School in London, and went on to become known throughout the world as the noted Sir Alexander Fleming, the discoverer of Penicillin.
Years afterward, the same nobleman’s son who was saved from the bog was stricken with pneumonia.
What saved his life this time? Penicillin.
The name of the nobleman? Lord Randolph Churchill . His son’s name?
Sir Winston Churchill.
Someone once said: What goes around comes around.
Work like you don’t need the money.
Love like you’ve never been hurt.
Dance like nobody’s watching.
Sing like nobody’s listening.
Live like it’s Heaven on Earth.
It’s National Friendship Week Send this to everyone you consider A FRIEND.
Pass this on, and brighten some ones day.
AN IRISH FRIENDSHIP WISH:
I hope it works…
May there always be work for your hands to do;
May your purse always hold a coin or two;
May the sun always shine on your windowpane;
May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain;
May the hand of a friend always be near you; May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.
and may you be in heaven a half hour before the devil knows you’re dead.
Always remember….animals don’t have feelings or emotions….seriously…do I actually to make it clear that my comment is an ironic statement aimed at the scientific institutions that are still debating whether or not animals have feelings and emotions….?