Verses 401-450 – For some reason, my dog especially loves to pee

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401. For some reason, my dog especially loves to pee
on leafy branches that've fallen off a tree.
Why he thinks it’s so special to whizz
on fallen parts of trees like this
is pure mystery to me.

402. Christian denominations limericks / verses

a. The religion professor gave us a quiz that was complete insanity.
He said list at least 100 denominations of Christianity.
And as if that wasn't enough,
to make it extra tough,
he asked, "And which one is most likely to lead to the salvation of humanity?"

b. A Christian? Is that what you want me to be?
Tell you what, get all your denominations together and get them all to agree.
And when all of you Christians are on the self-same page,
preaching the same exact message of that loving Nazarene sage,
I may just bent my knee — and give real consideration to your plea.

403. Sometimes when I hear a particular song,
a tucked-away feeling comes flashing back so strong
that the tears just start falling —
and why? — I have no way of recalling.
And so I just say, "Nothing," when my wife asks — "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

404. When at sixty, I looked in the mirror and caught sight of my ass,
I saw that my ass still had a little pizzazz.
But now that I'm seventy-five,
I can see the jiggle's no longer alive.
I guess my ass ─ finally just ran out of gas.

405. I said to Jo,
"Just let it go.
You can't hold on
to a past that's gone.
She said, "Oh? — Is that so?"

406. The rain fell out of the sky
in buckets on the land nearby.
But on the land where I did dwell,
not a single raindrop fell.
I guess heaven wasn't open for prayers ─ when my prayer came by.

407. That creepy looking house on other side of the street?
That's where the ghosts and the ghoulies meet.
And there they go to bed,
with the living and the dead,
each night before their QAnon retreat.

408. My doggy's sniffing is like people perusing the news.
And each sniff gives him info that my doggy can use
to work out, in his doggy imagination,
epic works of doggy versification
with which his doggy audience to delight and amuse.

409. I believe that in paradise
everything is perfect and everything is nice.
Even souls from Russia and Ukraine
can celebrate newfound friendship over a glass of champagne,
and laugh about their ultimate sacrifice.

410. When I grow up, what I wanna be
is a bona fide child prodigy.
Those cats are so smart
that by the age ten, they know all of math, science, and art —
practically by heart.

411. At a poetry reading in Monterey,
a poet got on stage and said she had nothing to say.
So the audience went ballistic,
and some even got pugilistic,
till authorities came and took their poetry away.

412. By the river, we babble on,*
while our parents sleep from midnight till dawn.
That's what you do at camp when you're young and in love
and have only the stars above
keeping track of what's going on.
* Play on the title of Psalm 137, "By the rivers of Babylon."
413.  The doctor said to the preacher, "Good news!
This seems to be only a superficial bruise.
So just lie back on the gurney,
and let that shot work that you got from LVN Ernie,
and then I'll reattach your severed soul while you snooze."

414. The girl I met was such a dish!
She said, “I'll see you around 8-ish?”
So I knocked on her door,
a good fifteen minutes before,
because I didn't want to be late-ish.

415. Hi, I'm here to atone
for my dog stealing your stinky dog's bone.
So here is a treat
of two pickled pigs’ feet,
and a big bottle of doggy eau de cologne.

416. Two gay guys were going straight
to the bus station because they were running late.
One dropped his party hat,
and the other one said, "Don't stop for that!
It's late. We gotta go mate go, mate!"

417. Have you ever thought about how tyrannosaurus rex
might have gone about having a tender moment of hot, passionate sex?
He, with possibly a meter-sized peter,
and she, getting into position for a sperm load of perhaps more than a liter.
Man! It must've been so darn cumbersome — and so darn complex.

418. For talking too much in class, we've buttoned your lip.
If the teacher does ask you to talk, here is a little tip.
You unbutton your lip just like a button on your shirt.
The first few times, you may feel a little hurt.
So be gentle, so your lip doesn't rip.

419. Geese flying south limericks/verses
a. If you spot a V of geese heading south,
you might consider closing your mouth.
Otherwise, they might just fly in,
unless, of course, they crash on your chin,
and make a mess on the front of your blouse.

b. When I daily see geese flying south,
I ask myself what I'm still doing in this house
where the temperature's freezing,
and I walk around sneezing,
and the cat no longer plays with the mouse.

420. She called me the other day,
to pronounce she had nothing to say.
I said, "So ─ should we just hang up?"
She said, "That’s up to you, buttercup."
I said, " ─ Okaaay!"

421. Tithing limericks/verses
a. You know why holy men created the idea of hell?
Because the idea was so fricking easy to sell.
Simply by linking deadly sin to a god who's forgiving,
these men knew they’d be able to make a pretty good living,
given that fools are so easily fooled into tithing so well.

b. The wisdom throughout the ages
has been to rely solely on religious sages,
who, with their good news and good cheer,
promise to keep God and the angels near
at a charge of only 10 percent of your wages.

c. Heaven? What kind of place is that?
Let me tell ya, it’s a place where you can get the best sex, tit for tat,
where tables are always piled high with savory food, strong drink, and sweet dessert,
and everyone can eat and imbibe all they want and never have their head or tummy hurt.
And best of all, no one ever has to go to school, or work, or even do a single chore.
And all that can be yours for as little as a tithing of 10% ─ and never a penny more!

422. In the school latrine, Mister Rich,
ran into quite an embarrassing little glitch.
While pulling up his zipper,
the zipper caught the skin of his big dipper,
and he yelled, "Oh, fuck! Oh, shit! Oh, son of a bitch."
"Ooooooooooooooooooooh! Mister Rich!"

423. We're speeding faster and faster
to each new climate disaster.
But in heaven's name! ─
don't say mankind and fossil fuels are to blame! ─
that's per the preaching of every other rich, Christian pastor.

424. We went in with our guns a-blazing.
And what we found there was truly amazing:
two chickens and a turkey,
looking at us all smug and smirky,
as if to say, “Is there really a need for this hell y’all are raising?"

425. In his gospel, Matthew says you can buy two sparrows for a penny;
but in his gospel, Luke says you can buy five sparrows for two.
If I gave you a dime to buy me a bunch sparrows, Jenny,
would you get more if Matthew or if Luke bought them for you?

426. She had the ass of the ages,
two hemispheres where the thunder rages.
And unless you crept inside,
there was no place to hide.
Read all about it in these Middle Age Poetry pages.

427. Entering the park to meet my blind date, Charlotte,
I was awestruck by a beauty dressed from head to toe in scarlet.
And my opening line, as she sat on a wooden bench
was "My — you look so incredibly French."
At which she gushed, "I do?
I can understand it a bit — but I don't really parle it."

428. Sometimes, I'm scared of being a poet because the fact is hard to hide —
so many of them come to an untimely end by committing suicide.
So, whenever I venture too close to the abyss,
I quickly turn away from where the darkness is,
and jump on my camel, Clyde — and go for a ride. *
* Play on a line in the song "Ahab the Arab"

429. If you'd been there during Noah's great flood,
you would've been put to work shoveling animal crud.
All that piss, menses, and shit —
you would've seen no end to it,
till the ark finally touch ground with a big fat thud,
and the animals were all set free for a life-or-death struggle — in Ararat's mud.

430. Worldwide in 1777
there was an untold number of children who were barely eleven.
And today, it can safely be said,
every single one of them is dead.
But how many of them are in hell, and how many of them are in heaven?

431. The horse, the donkey, and the pig
played as a trio at a rebel-rousing rock-'n-roll gig
for the sheep, the geese, and the cow
and the rabbits, and the chickens, and the sow
and the llama with her mama in a crazy orange wig.

432. It's never a given — what you've got.
It's all assigned or taken away by lot —
whatever joy, whatever pain,
whatever loss, whatever gain —
whether you deserve it — or not.

433. Did you know Virgil Kane?
I just saw him go swirling down a drainage drain,
followed by a black, bloated birdy,
and that geeky girl's nerdy gurdy
in a flood zone of Lake Pontchartrain.

434. “Well! Come!”
“Okay.”
“You know, you're always welcome.”
“Thanks.”
“You're welcome.”

435. Man, oh man, oh man!
What I couldn’t stuff into your magnificent can! ─
the pennies I've found,
and the marbles so round,
and the spellwork of that Wiccan from the Yucatan.

436. In the second millennium B.C.E.,
there lived a guy who was a lot like me.
He too was a skeptic and a scholar,
eking out an existence in loneliness and squalor,
and just as clueless as me ─ about what life was meant to be.

437. Here's something I learned from Mister Magoo.
It’s something you should never, ever do.
Never stick a hose
made of rubber up your nose,
no matter how many times kids dare you to.

438. Oh, the language
of that dang witch
was so acerbic, strident, and stinging,
that every sound
of that foul-mouthed hellhound
still pesters my ears with its pitiless pinging.

439. As I look in the mirror, I bewail the wrinkles acquired over the years.
And I also rue the loss of an innumerable amount of hairs.
But I do take comfort that some things are still exactly the same:
for example, my ID number, and my first and last name ─
proof that I'm still me, no matter what face in the mirror appears.

440. The way to end everything in the world that irks
is first to get rid of all the fricking male jerks.
Then, when it's only powerful women who remain,
let them be the ones who take the rein
and guide everyone back to everything that works.

441. This is a poem of advice to my fellow man.
Always try to do more than you think you can.
But don’t be upset about what you never did.
And be sure to make others finish their quo before you start your quid.
And have a bold game plan ─ for your entire life span.

442. She said, "Let's just compromise.
Let's give her your nose and give her my eyes.
So, we punched in the required DNA,
and when she was born, I can truly say,
there was absolutely no surprise.

443. Well, another 5th of July,
a day to get ready to bury those who did fry.
If they'd known, when lighting that shit,
that losing their lives woulda been the consequence of it,
they coulda taken the time to kiss their asses goodbye.

444. The nurse's words couldn't've been any sweeter,
as she gently grabbed me by the peeter,
and eased the catheter in.
She said, "See ─ no big deal ─
and any sec now, you should feel
the release of the painful pressure begin.

445. On a day when it no longer mattered,
I said to the multitude glumly gathered,
"It's of no use to pluck the day
see how the edges have rotted away —
and momentarily, we're all just gonna be scattered."

446. The last time we sat down to discuss
what is likely to become of us,
you said, "The next time we're both in New York,
we might take a little time out to pork —
unless you see that as a minus — and not as a plus."

447. Whenever the Count left town,
the Countess was amenable to messing around.
Quite often, she and the Baron
had a wonderful time sharin'
the counting of opening the buttons of her evening gown — down.

448. When she used those big brown eyes to flirt with me,
all I could do was smile at her sheepishly.
And when she motioned, I nervously followed her out back,
where she proceeded to push me down on her sack
and where I, against all expectations, proceeded to bat 353.

449. When writing a new poem proves to be way too hard,
after about five minutes, I’m usually ready to discard.
If I have to get in a fight with every word
and lose every nuance I would've preferred,
I'd just as soon say, "Fuck it!" and let it be written by much better bard.

450. One day when you're old, sex will walk out the door.
It will turn and wave, and you won’t see it anymore.
But from time to time, at a town or a country fair,
you may still espy its ghost among young people loitering there,
beckoning you with the same allure — as of yore.

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