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301. There's never a good reason to lie,
unless it's the only thing you can do to get by.
And then it should be ─
lie with impunity ─
even if they made you swear, "Cross your heart, hope to die."
302. Dear Sun, why are you so hot?
Why are you hitting us with everything you got?
The forests are all ablaze,
and the sky is a mucky haze,
and there's not a single free spot ─ in this Antarctica, beach-front parking lot.
303. "Okay," said the fox to the wolf in a huff.
"We're making this problem way too tough.
You take that pig, Sandie,
and I'll take that lamb, Randy,
and we'll share that goat, Billy, if that ain't enough."
304. Whenever Jnai races her Camaro down the street,
she's always way too fast for anyone to beat.
The cops sometimes give it a try,
as in their Dodge Chargers, they give chase to Jnai.
But you'll never see them cop to their defeat.
305. Oh wait!
I just caught a glimpse of God looking irate.
He must've seen us trying to do what —
the Bible explicitly says — "Do not!"
Let's refrain — before it is too late!
306. Who knew that this day was coming,
when we'd no longer hear the bees a-humming,
and we could no longer trust that the fields
would ever again produce the requisite yields,
this fricking soon before the promised second coming?
307. I heard that men and women on Venus
have no concept of the idea of a vulva and a penis.
On Venus, each sex tries to arouse the other's erogenous zone
through an encrypted, erogenous thought process alone.
And the way we do it on here Earth, they find a boorish uncleanness.
308. I heard one dog bark at another:
"You're uglier than you're very own mother."
"Oh, yeah? And you're uglier than your dad
after he really started looking bad."
Isn’t it sad to see such enmity between stepsister and stepbrother?
309. Peter and Paul verses
a. It's sad that Saint Peter three times denied,
or, to say it more bluntly — flat-out lied —
or, perhaps, was not at all aboveboard
when questioned whether he was a follower of the Lord —
and sadly wasn't even present at the cross when He died.
b. Did you know that the apostles Peter and Paul could raise the dead?
At least, that's what it said in the Scriptures I read.
It's amazing that when you read these books on your own,
you discover things you may never have known,
and things so different from what the preacher always said.
c. When I reach the pearly gates with the grim reaper as my guide,
I hope the question of whether I get heaven or hell is only for Jesus to decide.
Because if Peter is allowed an opinion and then the apostle Paul,
I don't think I stand much of a chance at all.
d. When the apostle Paul made that fateful decision
not to require that his male converts undergo circumcision,
he, in effect, said that for their faith, they needn't suffer,
like Christ on the cross, who had it just a little bit rougher.
e. I saw a guy rob Peter to pay Paul.
It was a crime of unmitigated gall.
And to have it be Peter to whom this was done,
the one whom Christ had built His church upon!
And I wonder—what was Paul's role in this all?
f. Saint Peter was fretting at Heaven's gate.
He looked at his watch and saw it was getting nerve-rackingly late.
So in a frenzy, he called Saint Thomas More
and said, "Saint Thomas, can you please come guard this door?
I gotta run. I got a hot date to go roller skate.”
g. Saint Peter said, “Hurry in, quick, so I can shut the door —
you were being closely followed by the Babylonian whore.
And if she were to get in,
God only knows what kind of trouble I'd be in.
Heaven would never again be the same as before.
h. “Is that you, Uncle Saul?
I didn't recognize your voice at all.
Yes, one way or another,
I'll try to explain to mother —
That from now on, we need to start calling you Paul.”
i. The billionaire complained, “Today, Saint Peter is being a big butt.
He’s keeping the gates of heaven for all of us rich folk shut.
He’s letting in the poor, the displaced, and the lonely
the oppressed, the unloved, and the downcast only.
So guess what! Today, we rich have no chance of making the cut!
310. The reason our world is in such a crisis
is that we've stopped worshipping the goddess, Isis.
So let's gather wheat, and honey, and freshly-brewed tea,
red wine, and incense, and stones of lapis lazuli,
and let's begin offering them again in daily Isis sacrifices.
311. Oh, you think I'm not serious?
Yes, I find that hilarious!
Have you read my work front to back?
And you still persist in this attack?
They used to send guys like you to Siberious!
312. We can debate the what if —
we can debate the what then —
as long as we're fully prepared
for when it all happens again.
313. He said he was good at math, but he wasn’t a great mathematician.
He said he could do much better at math in his role as a magician.
For example, as a magician, he could make one and one equal three
just by sawing one of the ones in half, you see.
I said, "Yeah, but ─ what do you do with that three in long division?"
314. In the life that's to come after this,
here's something that I don't wanna miss.
In the eternal hereafter,
I don't want to be without your laughter,
or without your morning or goodnight kiss.
315.I picked up a hitchhiker in my pickup truck., Louise Glück.
It turned out to be Nobel prize winner
She asked me to trash the scribblings of some poems she'd rejected,
which, of course, I didn't, as anyone might've expected.
Rather, I used them to write a poem of my own called, "That was some luck."
(Ooops. Her name’s not pronounced "Gluck!" Oh, fuck!)
316. After I built her a stately, glass house,
I said to my easily angered, indelicate, new spouse ─
"Don't you be throwing no stones
at my erogenous zones,
and don't you go walking around this new house ─ without a skirt or a blouse."
317. For people's take-home pay, nothing’s been a bigger curse
than these years of Republican control of the national purse.
If they could — these financial sages —
they would even reduce the wages of the Rock of Ages,
and connive to make the viability of social security even worse.
318. Papa is just the sweetest little guy.
He's always the very first to say, "Hi."
He may be the world’s only parrot
who gets high on a teeny bit of carrot,
and low ─ when there's no one nearby.
319. I listen to "Silent Night" throughout the year.
If someone says, "it's not Christmas," I say, "I don't care.”
I'm always deeply moved by that song,
and stirred by the varied memories that come tagging along ─
some of great sadness ─ and some of great cheer.
320. I’ve lived a long life of wealth and leisure,
and I’ve always been fond of wild, sensual pleasure.
So, when the nurse came to my bed
and said, “Shall I put some pomade on your head?”
I said, “Yes, Dear, you’re such an absolute treasure.”
321. “Well, show me the way to the next whiskey bar,”
Jim Morrison sang, driving a car,
when the news broke in and said,
“It's been reported Jim Morrison’s dead.
But what the cause was ─ hasn't been made public thus far.”
322. I know this is not my best, it’s too blue.
And I know I’m a great disappointment to you.
I coulda tried to add a little bit more yellow.
But then, I only woulda been copying that other fellow.
And then we woulda had an even bigger issue to work through.
323. The good thing about going nowhere
is that you're practically already there.
So, no need to hurry,
and certainly, no need to worry,
because you'll get there with plenty of time to spare.
324. A dog, a rabbit, and a kitty,
were out playing in a sunny park in the city,
when suddenly they saw two yellow butterflies
doing loop-d-loops right in front of their eyes,
which made the dog, the rabbit, and the kitty
so exceedingly happy, and ever so giddy.
325. "Get cracking!"
said the foreman to the ten men fracking.
"If you don't toil,
we don't get no oil,
and the boss man's gonna give me a big, fat shellacking.
326. I've come back to the Pacific shore.
I've been here so many times before.
This is where God opened the curtain
on my theater of hurtin',
and the devil welcomed me to hell's open door.
327. There once was girl from Beverly Hills
who sold a potpourri of mind-bending pills.
I bought one and ate it,
and my entire mind got negated.
It was one of my life's most forgettable thrills.
328. The furthest I ever got with Anne
is half a block past the church of St Stan.
And there, she rushed from my car,
yelling, "This time you've gone way too far!
See if you'll ever be driving me to church again!
329. When I walk my dog, one thing that doesn't give me a kick
is when he bends his head down in the grass and intensely starts to lick.
What I think he's imbibing,
I'll refrain from describing,
because I don't want to make anyone sick.
330. I said to my doggy, “Hey, you!”
Don't you be chewing my shoe.
You're about as bad as the cat,
who yesterdayshatspat
in the stew of Madame Magoo ─ ew!
331. When I have trouble capturing a thought in rhyme,
I wonder why do I have to rhyme all the time?
It's not even the style.
So why do I straitjacket myself all the while ─
when free verse would make it so much easier to spread all my guile?
332. When, from my apartment window, I stealthily watch you and your beau drop off the kids,
I feel the slow, welling up of tears behind my burning eyelids.
And as I hear the kids happily yelling "Daddy, daddy!" as they reach the top of the stairs,
I hastily brush away this untimely accumulation of tears ─
open the door ─ and am ready for a weekend of some untimely good cheers.
333. If I could buy a ton of funny,
I’d be telling the world’s greatest jokes, my honey ─
jokes that would make people laugh
so hard they’d literally break in half —
but sadly, I don’t have that kind of money.
334. As I sit here, an old man, by the winter fire,
I can recall — but not actually feel — any sexual desire.
I can recollect —
but I can’t detect —
any positive charge along the length of the old wire.
335. Marjorie Taylor Greene limericks / verses
a. I’m no fan of Marjorie Taylor Greene.
I think in Hell, she’d make a perfectly unimpeachable queen.
Let her be the bride of the devil,
so together they can revel
in everything Jesus would’ve found so sickeningly obscene.
b. Jesus said to Marjorie Taylor Green,
“You white evangelical queen!
Why do you condemn a kid for their gender,
instead of spending your energy trying to defend her?
Who or what made you so goddamn mean?
336. Thanks for asking me in a letter
if I could explain myself a little better.
Yes, I do somewhat enjoy sex,
although the side effects can be exceedingly complex.
And I do like the occasional hug, although I’m not much of a petter.
337. If you think justice is hard to find,
just remember, Lady Justice is totally blind.
But she does have a very keen sense of smell,
with which she can quite easily tell
whether you sojourn among the rich or among the poor of mankind.
338. Today, I was caught in the middle ─
between continuing to fight to keep dry, or just to give in to the piddle.
I think the time’s finally come for adult diapers ─
it’s no weirder really than driving in the rain and using windshield wipers.
And it’s a good answer to the old age widdle riddle.
339. The moment I died, the world didn’t stand still,
even though I had requested it in my will.
But I guess that’s because my will wasn’t read
till a few days after I was dead.
340. This morning, a bird sang the prettiest song.
But then she kept it up for so goddamn long
that I found myself going a little crazy in the head,
to the point where I wished she’d just drop down dead.
Sorry ─ I know! That kind of thinking is totally wrong.
341. If I had to be a sardine in a can,
I wouldn’t wanna be squeezed in next to a man.
Cuz that would be really tough
to have to be feeling his manly stuff
all the way from Morocco to Japan.
342. We all have a part of our body
we don’t want to expose to anybody:
a mole, a breast, or a belly,
or some of the places that are just too smelly,
or features that God made way too shoddy.
343. To folks staring at a screen in a brightly lit room,
I said, “I have arrived in heaven, right, I presume?”
“Yes, yes,” they replied, my soon-to-be heavenly friends.
“But until this gosh darn epidemic ends,
there’s no other way to do heaven but by Zoom.”
344. Heaven is not at all what I expected.
It’s hell to be stuck in a room with the boring elected.
They do nothing but this goody-goody-two-shoe shit!
Believe me, after half an eon, you get pretty tired of it.
Oh, where’s the escape button? I wanna be ejected.
345. This morning, the early bird caught my worm.
Need I tell you how I did squirm?
You should’ve seen me freak
when I couldn’t get my worm’s skin out of her beak ─
her hold on me was just so vice-like firm!
346. Don’t give in to Rigga Mortes.
Don’t give that bully your warm embrace.
Don’t give in to Rigga Mortes,
or you’ll soon end up as a very cold case.
At every moment, he’ll try stiff you
and suck all the color from your face.
So don’t open your doors to Rigga Mortes,
or he’ll make rag-and-bone shop of your place.
347. “I’m outta here, see ya later,”
yelled the sink at the refrigerator,
and the screaming microwave did follow,
as did the shrieking stove, flying out through a hollow,
torn open by a twister gutting a kitchen in Decatur.
348. I’m being accosted by five lines in search of a poet.
They’re gonna request I turn them into a limerick, I just know it.
But I fear that their end rhymes are totally wrong,
and that three of the lines are just too wordy and long.
“Sorry, guys! You need to find yourselves a better poet,
cuz if I try — I just know I’m gonna blow it.”
349. You should never serve watermelon
to any convicted felon,
because they might take the seeds of the fruit
and aim it at the guards and shoot,
and as to the consequences of that, there just ain’t no tellin’.
350. Remember that day your mother unexpectedly came home,
when I was under your covers trying to write you a new poem?
You shushed me and told me to be quiet as a mouse
because if your mother caught us like that in your house —
her eyes would shoot fire, and her lips would foam.
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Comments, suggestions, or questions? Please email Rio Jansen at rio_jansen@hotmail.com