Today's poems [2.3.08]

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There was a sad prude out in Iowa 
               Who would say, "Please say it my way: 
                    Do not say fuck, 
                    It don't rhyme with duck. 
               Say untcay and itshay and uckfay." 

There was a young peasant named Gorse 
               Who fell madly in love with his horse. 
                    Said his wife, "You rapscallion, 
                    That horse is a stallion--- 
               This constitutes grounds for divorce." 

                    We once had a clerk named Pyle
                            
                    Who had an affair with our file.
                            'Twas strewn askew
                            From K through Q,
                            
                    And the P's were all sticky and vile.
                            

Chaos reigns within.

Reflect, repent, and reboot.

Order shall return.

               There once was a man from Rangoon 
               Who was born 9 months too soon. 
                    He didn't have the luck 
                    To be born by a fuck; 
               He was scraped off the sheets with a spoon. 

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