lover.
The mother learnt about the brother,
And she wanted retribution.
So got together with Stephen’s dad
Just increasing the confusion.
When Stephen learnt the awful truth
He was truly devastated.
So he took his gun and shot them all;
Situation terminated.
Uncle’s Poetry
My uncle was a poet,
He wrote poems all the time,
But the public didn’t like them,
For his poems didn’t rhyme.
His subjects were too complicated,
And they just made sense to him.
So he bagged them altogether,
And he dumped them in the bin.
Miscarriage of Injustice
I didn’t do it, can’t you see,
I wasn’t even there!
Even though you found my fingerprints
On door and kitchen chair.
Your reasons for detaining me
Are weak beyond compare,
It matters not I have the knife
Or blood amongst my hair.
Yes these are his car keys
But it doesn’t prove a thing,
And yes I’ve used his credit card
And I wear his wedding ring.
I respect you have a job to do
And I’m sure your mum is proud,
But now it’s time to say you’re wrong
Let me hear it clear and loud.
The fact you found his severed head
In the freezer in my shed
Does not conclude definitively
That the man is really dead.
Your argument is totally flawed
And the judge he will agree.
Forensic proof is often wrong!
Stop the tape and set me free!
Gary’s Sandwich
Gary had a sandwich
That he made all by himself.
He wrapped it up so tightly
And he left it on the shelf.
But Gary’s memory failed him
And he forgot about his lunch,
Instead preferring Burger King
And a Whopper Meal to munch.
The sandwich remained forgotten,
Ignored for years and years,
Finally turning moldy green and sprouting tiny hairs.
Soon it began to twitch and move,
And started thinking for itself;
An intellectual sandwich, sat up high upon the shelf.
Why am I here?
And who am I?
And will I find love soon?
The deep, but troubled sandwich
Descended into doom.
Eventually it became too much,
More than it could contain,
And sandwich threw itself from shelf,
Thus ending all its pain.
Aunty Sue
Aunty Sue likes Germaline
It’s her favorite anti-septic
She uses it to brush her teeth
Underpants
I’m sat here in my underpants
And I’ve been like this for days.
I’m eating Frosties out the box,
In my horizontal laze.
I find the low light wonderful,
And although it’s bright outside,
The curtains block the sunshine out,
And the darkness helps me hide.
Top Gear keeps me company
As does Fifteen to One.
Most people think I’m lonely
But I’ve never had such fun.
I’m staying like this forever,
Drenched in glorious gloom.
Just me, myself and Countdown,
In the blackness of my room.
POO
Angry Neighbor
My neighbor doesn’t like me much
He shouts and shakes his fist.
He pulls my hair and makes me cry
When he grabs me by the wrist.
He drags me to his garden
And demands an explanation,
For why I sneak onto his lawn
To do my defecation.
Previous Poo
Rumbling tummy
Have to go
To lighten my load
To let it flow.
Must pick my cubical
Most carefully
Avoid a previous poo
Waiting for me.
Short and Sweet
When I poo, I think of you,
And when I think, I stink.
Toilet Cruelty
The man in cubical number 3
Drops his pants for poop and wee.
He calls to me as his rolls empty
But I say no, yet I’ve got plenty.
I leave him weeping at his plight,
And on the way out, turn out the light.
Marathon Poo
Marathon poo, I hate you,
You never arrive when I need you too.
You never come at the needed time,
Instead you wait for the starting line.
It’s hard to run when you’re fit to burst,
Spoiling my chances of coming first.
Oh marathon poo, you frustrate me.
Why can’t you be like helpful race wee?
Delayed Due To Poo
I’m late, but must wait, to evacuate.
Cannot commit when full of it,
To the open road with my full load.
Hartshead Moor is just too far,
For poo plus me plus company car.
Unable to go I have to stay,
And when it’s flowed,
I’ll be on my way.
Cubical Fear
I found a poo in cubical 2
Which was really terrifying,
But it was what I found in number 3
That made me burst out crying.
Poo Stand Off
Here I sit in cubical 3
My private world for poop and pee
When a man arrives in number 2
For noisy wee and angry poo.
I wait and hope that he will leave
Allowing me to push and heave.
But fast he’s not, his poo is slow,
And so I wipe and flush and go.
Twenty Four Seven Toilets
Alone he died in cubical 2.
Death came and took him during his poo.
But it was three weeks
Before he was found,
Slumped with trousers upon the ground.
For they thought 2 was occupied;
No one realised that he had died.
SPUNKY THE CLOWN
Grumpy Spunky
Spunky put the gun down!
You’re a naughty little clown.
You’re an angry entertainer,
Frightening people in this town.
Spunky drop your weapon!
Get yourself onto the floor,
Lie down with your legs apart,
Point your arms towards the door.
That’s it Spunky, nice and slow,
Don’t make us use the tazer.
Slide across the gun, the knife,
The bullets and the razor.
Now put your hands behind your back
And we’ll cuff you up so tightly
Then off we’ll go to see the judge
And I doubt you’ll get off lightly.
Spunky Must Die
Spunky is so chunky,
And he has been for some time.
He likes his cakes and biscuits,
And he’s always eating mine.
If you’re sat there munching pancakes
Then he’ll sit and stare at you,
Until you hand them over;
There is nothing you can do.
Even if I hide my pies
In a place so secretly,
He’ll just find them and
consume them
Leaving not a scrap for me.
Spunky is so chunky
But his stealing days are over,
For I’ve laced my apple strudel
With a little poisonous clover :-).
Clowning Around At The Farm
Spunky the clown.
The clown with the frown.
Watch over the livestock,
When he is around.
A clown no one wants.
No matter how cheap.
Except magistrates,
With a date he must keep.
Spunky the clown,
You’re not leaving town.
You’ve been fiddling with bovines;
And they’re sending you down.
Swim With Spunky
Spunky loves the swimming pool
He likes to do his splashing.
He’s very good at mushroom floats,
And he keen to do some flashing.
When the lifeguard isn’t looking
And the water’s not too deep,
Then he whips away his clown trunks
To give the girls a peep.
Spunky’s Secret
Spunky has a secret
(That everybody knows)
About his need to squish his poo
Through his fingers and his toes.
No one wants to shake his hand
Or wear his platform shoes
For fear of catching something
From the clown who plays with poo.
NIGEL
Nigel’s Lunch
I ate my lunch at half past 10
And now my stomachs empty.
But I’ll steal from Nige,
As he was patient,
And I know he’s got plenty.
Nigel in a Crate
Nige asks me to let him out
As he’s feeling claustrophobic.
Which I find strange as he told me
He’s mildly agoraphobic.
But even if I wanted too,
I couldn’t set him free.
So in the crate, Nigel must stay,
Until I find the key.
Dirty Nigel
Nigel hasn’t washed his hands,
And he hasn’t washed his willy.
He says his boiler’s faulty,
And it makes the water chilly.
He tells me that his bum is clean,
But I’m simply not convinced,
So next time Nigel falls asleep,
I’ll check that it’s been rinsed.
Nigel’s Angry Cake
When Nige makes cake,
He’s usually angry,
And he doesn’t take much care.
He’s sloppy with his mixing,
And he lacks a certain flare.
His cakes are more like porridge,
With a burnt and crispy coating.
And have an acrid taste,
That stings the throat,
And can cause painful bloating.
Unwelcome Nigel
Nigel made a pass at me
Down the corridor.
I thought he was being friendly
But then he wanted more.
So I got him in a headlock
And I broke his collar bone.
Then I grabbed my coat,
My bag, my keys,
And drove myself straight home.
Nigel’s Mayonnaise
Nigel’s made egg mayonnaise
But we think it tastes funny.
It’s dark and smelly and very strong,
And it’s frothy, warm and runny.
Poor Nigel
With joy, he cried,
When the doctor lied.
But because he lied,
Poor Nigel died!
Nigel’s Cake
Nigel