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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
A humorous farce (poem)...begins with about running out of gas, then goes in many different directions. Doesn't make any sense, but it should be fun for you to read.

Submitted: October 28, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 28, 2013











Out of fuel? That’s cool

Won’t start? Be smart!

It drank the tank

Now you’ll ride-a mule…

I guess, unless

Your money, my honey

Will bide a ride

To school. How cruel!

If not you’ve got

The time to climb

A tree to see

The fool at the pool.

He swims? Not him

That’s why the guy

Just stands with his hands

In his pocket. Don’t knock it

That’s better than wetter,

Soaked clothes. Who knows?

The guy is spry

He runs for fun

You crazy? Or lazy.

Go to work! Don’t shirk

Your job. Or th’mob



Will getcha. You betcha

‘Snot funny, my honey

Get serious-- you’re furious

‘Cause ucan’t rave&rant

So fellow, be mellow

By th’way, Jo-se

Who’s that at bat?

Bob Bonds had brawn

One stroke and broke

The record…Star Trekker!

Ball raced in space

Not sharin’ with Aaron

The glory, I’m sorry

But you? Not a-clue

Why ur-readin’ and feedin’ on

This rhyme. It’s time

To stop, find-a cop

And arrest the pest

Who wrote this note

And throw’em and th’poem

In jail with-out bail

He’s clev’r. But’ll nev’r

Get out-- No doubt!

Now guys, you try

To chuck this muck

Or verse (The worst)



In th’trash real fast

If not my tot

I bet you’ll get

Very sick, real quick

Stay away okay?

From th’ poem --Go home

Spend time-- write a rhyme…

That means-- something

Not th’ words of nurds--

Go to bed airhead

Tomorrow you’ll borrow

‘The Best of Guest’

Edgar A. they say

Wrote a bunch with punch!

Emerson’s the one

I liked. You’re right!

Get at it -- fanatic

Grab a pen, it’s in…

The study, my buddy

See ya later alligator

Come back at th’ crack

Of dawn… I’ll be gone

Are you sad? Too bad!

I gotta date-- First rate!

Fine lass, got class

Outta here, my dear



I’ll go-- Real slow

So you can shoo

‘N catch up(catsup) buttercup

To the pickle, costs a nickel

Mustard I heard’s

Even less. The best

Hot dogs & groundhogs

They went… were sent

Underground where they found

Some buns and tons

Of fries, large size

Let’s eat the meat

Then bye! Small fry

I’m leavin’-- You’re greavin’

Don’t cry-- I’ll try

‘N do better, I’m your debtor

See ya soon Baboon

But chao for now

I’m done-- you’ve won

Adios, Carlos



C. Aaron


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