Today's poems [8.9.08]

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There was a young lady who said
As her bridegroom got into bed,
"I'm tired of this stunt
That they do with ones cunt.
Put it up my bottom instead." 

There was a young man of Natal 
Who was fucking a Hottentot gal. 
Said she, "You're a sluggard!" 
Said he, "You be buggered! 
I like to fuck slow, and I shall." 

To quote, or not to quote;
That is the question.
Whether 'tis cluefuller on the Net to re-post
The tos and fros of diverse opinions,
Or to take arms against such attributions,
And, by excision, end them. 
                             To trim, to snip:
No more, and by a snip to say we end
The widows and the thousand orphaned words
That posts are heir to,  'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished.
                        To trim, to snip.
To snip, perchance too much. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that joyous chop the sense we lose
When we have taken out the fluff and dross
Must give us pause. 
                     There's the factor
That makes calamity of so long threads.
For who would bear the tos and fros of chat,
Th' cascader's screed, the geek's anality,
The pain of misplacéd tags, the reeking trolls,
The cliquiness of in-jokes, and the flames
That studied satire draws from clueless fools,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a mere bobbit?
                     Who would cudgel brains
To write a piece, witty and thoughtful too,
But that the hope of making people laugh,
That blesséd gift of humour from whose touch
No traveller is safe, spurs on the soul,
And makes us rather bear those ills we read
Than carve them up,and mayhap lose the joke?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And Usenet posters of great sense and content
In this confusion quote more than they should,
And lose the name of Clueful.
                               Read you, now,
The fair Emilia! [1]  Nymph, in thy reminders
Be all my posts remembered.

I hate you, you hate me,
We're a disfunctional family.
Then a shot rang out and Barney hit the floor,
No more fucking dinosaur.

                              Modern Love Poem
     
   
      A Trite Redundant Poem With a Laughable Excuse For a Structure
  Addressed To Absolutely No One in Particular and Whose Only Redeeming
                          Value is That It's Short
                         a.k.a. A Modern Love Poem

My dearest darling with long dark hair and eyes azure,
My love for you is eternal, tried, and sure.
I stare into the infinite depths of your eyes,
But I often find my gaze directed at your thighs.

Everyone appreciates your unsurpassed beauty and grace,
Your perfect supple form and enchanting face.
Some say beauty is fleeting, and boy do I agree.
Your personality sucks, so when you're 40, with you I will not be.

My sweet, how do I love thee?  Let me count the ways...
One...uh...one...hmm...number one...gimme a chance... how about the
way your body sways?

Let me once more restate my love for you.
65% of the time, to you I'm true.
There is no other woman with whom I lay,
At least, not at this particular time of day.

My dear, you're absolutely the best.
How 'bout accompanying me to the next Centralfest?
(That is, unless I don't have another date)
The events that brought us together must have been fate.

I love you, I love you, I love you.
You're the greatest, Jenny, I mean Cherry, I mean Sue.
  

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