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Violence Funny Poems | Violence Poems About Funny

These Violence Funny poems are examples of Violence poems about Funny. These are the best examples of Violence Funny poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Limerick | |

Batman And Robin

(Limerick)


Batman and Robin hit the Joker
But their blow was only a croaker
The Joker hit back
But instead hit Jack
Who said "I'm glad, the Joker's an smoker!


Dorian Petersen Potter
Aka ladydp2000
Copyright@2014


09.16.2014

Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

Voodoo Doll

There's a person you'd like to curse,
so a voodoo doll, then make first;
Upon that doll now cast a spell, 
summoned from the wicked in hell;
Now you need some pins and needles,
bring the pain of pitch forked devils;
The length of pins make sure are long,
the devils pain will be more strong;
The more a needle's thick and round,
will make the pain be more profound;
Must take your victims' lock of hair,
attach it to the doll to wear;
The doll, up high, hold in the air,
Into the doll's eyes, you must stare;
Call the doll by your victims name,
while at the doll, the needle aim;
Curse the name as you stab it in,
twisting and turn it as you grin;
With needles stuck about the head,  
each needle deeply did embed;
With legs, all over, stuck with pins, 
you now must wish the curse begins.

Copyright © Tony Sampson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

My Wife's Car Is In The Lake

I forgot to set the parking brake.
So now my wife's car is in the lake.
You're looking at a man who can never catch a break.
My wife kicked my ass just because I made a mistake.
She broke my left leg and I'm having to use a crutch.
I don't blame her for being mad but coming at me with a chainsaw is a bit too much.

(This is a fictional poem)

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

Your having a giraffe

Just a normal Sunday sitting on my chair
When all of sudden in walked my auntie uncle Claire

What the hell you doing barging in like that??
He said your not going fu**ing believe it? I just ran over your Cat

I said the only pussy in this house is my other half,
We played a few drinking games and i beat him at charades
He soon ad enough of that tho so i  pulled out deck cards then he stared moaning reckon the games i play are hard.

Well i had enough of his lip i couldn't take no more
so rubbed his face on cheese grater and now hes bloody sore.

Copyright © Lisa Costigan | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

THE EFFECT OF DRUGS AND VIOLENCE

People smoke weed, or crack to ignore problems and laugh hysterically,
coffee is my drug, it's my quick pick-me-up...I say it so proudly,
because it won't harm me, hallucinate me or make me feel afraid;
I will be alive tomorrow, not crash into into a lamppost as Freddy did.



I lived through the Hippie Era: bell-bottoms...long, frizzy hair
and funny clothes the kind that clowns wear,
no offense to those who thought they were cool;
it's my opinion, not of that guy who didn't see himself as a fool!  



I had no time to protest, or vindicate the Vietnam War as Omar;
off I went to work each morning as hippies hung out by a bar
shouting at me, " Kid, stay alive...don't ever go to war! "
They ran and screamed, knocking down police barricades...horror!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2012

Details | Grook | |

Constant bullshit

I'm bringing it hard like you've never 
seen,
showing you shit you won't ever 
believe.
You didn't remember now you're 
down on the pavement,
with your head split because you 
forgot our arrangement.
I have these evil intentions,
which are mixed with images too 
gruesome to mention.
I'll choke you and watch as you 
strangle,
I don't care I'll leave your ass 
mangled.
now listen up before your face gets 
rearranged,
and they're calling the corner to come 
pick up the remains.
If you're talking to me your ass will 
get hit,
you'll be crying like a baby who can't 
find the tit.
I told you once but you must not be 
listening,
Next it's going to be your grave that 
I'm pissing in.
I'll pop one in you and not feel guilty,
Looking like Dennis the Menace so 
nasty and filthy.
So I'm cracking your head back and 
forth,
trying to drill this shit into your 
cerebral core.
It's time you paid your dues and dealt 
with this bitch,
because I'm getting tired of your 
constant bullshit.

Copyright © Joan McCue | Year Posted 2014

Details | Political Verse | |

TRUMP: Persistently Steamy Poetry

By: Moji Agha -- June 24, 2016 -- Tucson, Arizona

Last dusk at a small Tucson park,
my 3-year-old dear friend, Rafi,
insisted unhesitatingly on imitating, 
no, actually embodying, a baby dog.

REALLY! As real is Trump's candidacy.  

It was as if he was saying this to Donald Trump:

"HAY! You finally convinced me,
to finally give up on being human."

"If humanity has been reduced to Trumpicity,
I'd rather be civilized in the dog-eat-dog world."

"Do you, the Trumpet of Ultimate Ignorance, 
understand the significance of my giving up 
on humanicity at my adorably tender age?" 
"Do you even give a damn? 
I highly doubt it."

O' and of course we all know
how perfectly our fellow 3-year-old humans 
know the art of insisting;
Much like Donald Trump knows 
how to perfect the art of being an insistent ass.

In the mean time,
I insistently wonder why Rafi
(who insisted on factually being leashed 
and be physically walked,
in part by myself--leash in hand)
manifested so perfectly at yesterday's sunset 
an unbelievably adorable actually barking "doggie" 
that did not poop.

Yupp! You heard it right! 
Rafi-the-cute-doggie
did NOT poop!

So again I wonder insistently,
if his trans-species dog and pony show
(I played the pony, I suppose) 
was meant, 
at its profoundest level of canine contemplation,    
to symbolically show authentic poop-less solidarity
with those evolved dogs
(and ponies)
who don't poop the world;
perhaps to differentiate themselves
from the words that insist on pouring out
of Donald Trump's ass-imitating mouth,
further polluting our wounded Mother Earth.

And no doubt, 
you see, 
Rafi and I have persistently no doubt, 
on these Trumpian days 
of sickening surreality, 
that our Mother Earth must be insistently asking herself 
agonizing existential questions like these:

"O' my God: 
How the hell did I end up giving birth 
to an insistently white, yet 
persistently steamy pile of shit, 
like Donald?
How did this orange-hued artificially hairy tragedy happen? 
Whose fault is it?

And alas: 
How should this grotesque Trumpesque pollution be cleansed,
wherein the narcissistic shit 
and the exhibitionistic asshole 
are of the same socio-psychotic DNA?"

O' my God: 
How on Earth can THIS kind of ass be wiped?

Hoping for some answers 
(before it's too late), 
will our civilizing 3-year-old Rafi,
now a proud poop-less citizen 
of the dog-eat-dog world, 
come back as some kind of a Doggie Super-Hero
to rescue humanity,
making our Mother Earth "GREAT AGAIN?"

Copyright © Moji Agha | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

Murder, In The First Degree

He went to a public library that's quiet and free; 
And was arrested for murder,  in the first degree; 

Inside the library, there was a book to find, 
Slowly he approached his victim, an ol' woman who's kind; 

Close to her backside, he stood lurking behind, 
Little ol' granny was reading and paid him no mind; 

The quick use of his weapon caused her to drop dead on the spot, 
It was the eyeball witness who saw, that's how he got caught; 

The jury must now see the weapon t'was horribly used, 
But the killer tried to hide his nose and loudly refused; 

Now her death that came from his loud sharp sneeze, 
Made her heart quickly stop, quiver, and seize; 

So his hands were shackled and the murder weapon was viewed, 
The jury gasped loudly for air, outraged was their mood; 

Soon after his shnozzle was clearly depicted, 
The jury was unanimous, ... they quickly convicted.

Copyright © Tony Sampson | Year Posted 2006