M.D's comedy collection

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

My own comedy collection.

Submitted: April 30, 2018

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Submitted: April 30, 2018



The brave warrior faced the dragon. with a fiery soul and a blazing wagon.

The dragon attacked with its tail! And in the warriors butt he flail


The warrior was moaning with a scorching rectum

Just to see it through pornhubs spectrum


The man could walk no longer

The dragon was defeated

That man was a true warmonger

and now in a wheelchair he is seated




(Part Comedy) 

See that boy up the Mill

Down below a quaking drill

A field around filled with cotton

Spiky wood, half-way rotten

Piercing through his skull to kill


a heart impaled with a wooden stake

The painful memories of misery it' rake

Drowning down in the lake

for being horrid and being fake


Life and love are things for yearning

Ever living ever learning

Jealousy calls to set us free

Free our hearts from slavery

In the boiling cauldron there

i find the truth i find despair

Hearts are tender, handle with care

Or they end up in the hollows lair

Eternal suffering for the fair

Take the fight if you dare

perhaps another destiny another flare

awaits you in the moments clare


The princess of autismo

Was out in the field of Magaland

Learnt that what you reap is what you sow

Waving her hair in the green band


Her smile was bright 

her cheeks were red

Angry and ready to fight

for no cred

She saw the light

as she bled

With all her might 

she shook her head

Fell down then took flight

And woke up in the mornings bed


If time could stop and i could keep going

If everything could be changed

If i could just rewind the time

If my heart could stop beating

And not even mime

And stop myself from seating

In this prison of time


If life is a game then aint it a shame

that without a dame, life is yours to blame

Life is crap but it's all the same

Cause in the rain

you fight the Cain

But ifyour main

goal's to stain

It leads just to pain

And is so vain

You paint it red

your saint has bled

It's faint but shed

My blood instead.


(Back to comedy)

Laying down on the top of the mountain

the sun shines and the breeze touches me softly

The birds are singing,

the joy they're bringing

is slowly being destroyed

Fucking bugs...





© Copyright 2019 M.D Knightley. All rights reserved.

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