It Don't Make Cents

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
The whole poem's a farce that rhymes

Submitted: October 26, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 26, 2013





This poem won’t make sense

‘Cause you know I’m quite dense

I’ve gone over the fence

On my horse, like a prince

You believe not my word?

Think that I am absurd?

Well now you are the third

Unbeliever—you nurd!

And I’m gonna complain

Don’t come in here again!

So will you please explain

Why you’re such a half-brain?

That’s too much…just a quarter

Of your brain is not mortar

That’s what says the reporter

He’s the guy that’s much shorter

Than you. You believe it?

Can you even conceive it?

Don’t be so naïve. It

Is true! Your wife grieves it.

She’d wish you were much taller

Like her, and not smaller…

And were smart like a scholar

Who makes more than a dollar

But alas, that’s her lot

In this life. What’s my thought?

That you don’t give a squat

About her; when you ought

To be happy and thankful

So now let us be frank(ful)

‘Cause your wife has her tank full

Of grief. Not a bank full

Of money, like she wishes

Not a sink full of dishes

And sometimes there are fishes

Floating there with radishes

On top of the water

There’s been even an otter

In the water that’s hotter

That can bear your sweet daughter

Is your daughter a bear?

Or do we even dare

To look at her and stare.

‘N Is she covered with hair?

Because bears are not bare

No they’re abounding in hare

Oh, I think I did err

‘Cause I just spelled hair hare

And the hares are a-bounding

Yes, their paws are a –pounding

On the dirt. Now they’re sounding

Like the dogs that are hounding…

One request: please don’t hound me

So that when you have found me

If the planes didn’t ground me

Nor the cord’s wrapped around me

I’ll do you a great favor

It will have a great flavor

‘’Twill be one that you savor

Like that food I just gave her

That’s not just any food

‘Ts-from the cow that just moo’d

U-Say you’re in a good mood?

Is that the horse you just shoe-d?

You put shoes on a horse?

Sure, they’re pretty of course

It could be a lot worse

Could-wear high heels with a purse

Put high heels on their hoofs?

That’s like putting poles on their roofs

Now did you make some goofs?

‘N are you telling the truths?

‘Cause I can tell when you’re lyin’

I see you sitting there tryin’

But then you let the fly in

And it’s on what you’re fryin’

Are you cooking a goose

In a quart-full of juice?

I’ve got it! Let’s make a truce

And then I’ll stop this abuse

‘Cause I don’t want to abuse you

Nor do I want to use you

And especially not lose you

Don’t worry. I won’t Tom Cruise you

How about a cruise on a boat

Only if it stays afloat

Or doesn’t get stuck on a moat

Hey, I’ve got a sore throat

From all of this chatter

It makes my heart pitter-patter

But it don’t really matter

‘Nless it makes me much fatter

‘Cause bein’ fatter’s bad news

And it gives me the blues

That’s not the color I choose

And I don’t want to lose

My keys, comb, or my wallet

If that happened then you’d call it

Bad luck. That’s not all. It’s

Bad news, my downfall. It



Doesn’t get any worse.

For a girl, it’s her purse

Yes, the words are quite terse

‘Cause when it happens you curse

Not the curs in a movie

He’s the bad one. He’s not groovy

But that still doesn’t prove he

Has done it…it was the juvie

Yes, the young boy in trouble

Now his worries are double

Did you say ‘double trouble’?

‘Twas all witnessed by Hubble

That’s the guy who had hope

He built the telescope

For sure he was no dope

No. He threw others a rope

So they could see the blue skies

And the moon when it rises

I think he won the prize

For the soft lullabies

That the young baby hears

Yes, the sweet loving dears

They lull all the babes’ tears

And calm their rattled fears

You say fears with a rattle?

Is that not like a battle

With a herd full of cattle

But cows don’t have a saddle

They just stand there and chew

On the hay, ‘til they’re through

Eat like a cow? Yes, that’s true

Like a horse? That’s me and you

If your stomach can take it

Then you cannot forsake it

A habit you just can’t break it

You should try now to make it

Take a break once in a while

Leave the house! Walk a mile

Down the road. That’s my style

But for some, it’s a trial

Yes, it can be quite hard

It could leave your eyes starred

And if you’ve eaten some lard

It’s much worse. You’re off guard

That’s because you’re a forward

And you always lean toward

The ball, and the backboard

And you never get bored

No. That’s your life’s greatest treasure

It brings joy you can’t measure

It’s the fans greatest pleasure

To stuff it. That says your


One of the top stars

You could e’en jump to Mars

If your shoes didn’t have tars

On their bottoms. That mars

All of the varnished wood

You’d clean it off, if you could

But you’re ahead and it would

Stop the win streak. The coach could

Pull you out and then bench you.

And that’s not Johnny Bench. You

Can win! It’s a cinch. You

Wake up and don’t flinch. You

Are taking a chance

‘Cause there’s just one last dance

That’s the one where you prance

Down the court, yes real fancy

And you stop and you dunk it

In the basket you plunk it

Some would say that you sunk it

‘Cause you sure didn’t flunk it!

It’s your style that you’re sellin’

Yeah! The fans are all yellin’

At this point there’s no tellin’

If their coach is still well. In

A minute they’ll tell us

The other team, they can’t quell us

And the subs now, can’t spell us

‘Cause we’re as high as a trellis

Well we won. That’s the ending

And I think I’ll stop spending

My free time. It’s called blending.

It’s the trail I’ve been wending.


Did this trick

Make you sick?

Next time pick

Another Stick!


Hi, bye

I’m gone!



C. Aaron










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